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Title: The Chautauquan, Vol. 04, October 1883

Author: Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle
Chautauqua Institution

Editor: Theodore L. Flood

Release date: February 13, 2016 [eBook #51196]
Most recently updated: October 23, 2024

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE
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THE CHAUTAUQUAN
A Monthly Magazine Devoted to the Promotion of True Culture. Organ of
the Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle.

———————————

VOLUME IV.

FROM OCTOBER, 1883, TO JULY, 1884.

———————————

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

THE CHAUTAUQUA PRESS,
MEADVILLE, PA.

Copyrighted by Theodore L. Flood, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington,
D. C., 1883-4.

INDEX TO VOLUME IV.
Agassiz. Prof. J. Tingley, Ph.D. 462.

Alaska—Its Missions. Rev. Wm. B. Lewis. 592.

American Literature, Criticisms on. 503.

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

Warner, Charles Dudley. 394.
Washington, George. 78.
Whittier, John G. 264.

Americans, Eccentric. C. E. Bishop. 43, 95, 211, 275, 348, 510, 584.

Amusements of the London Poor. Walter Besant. 457.

Ardent Spirits. B. W. Richardson, M.D. 347.

Arnold, Matthew. Prof. A. B. Hyde, D.D. 270.

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

Astronomy of the Heavens. Prof. M. B. Goff.
December, 183.
January, 218.
February, 278.
March, 346.
April, 405.
May, 455.
June, 528.
July, 569.
August, 570.
September, 571.

Banquet to Chautauqua Trustees. 307.

Blue Laws. 156.

Book Knowledge and Manners. Lord Chesterfield. 161.

Books Received. 127, 187, 249, 314, 496, 556, 612.

Botanical Notes. Prof. J. H. Montgomery. 227, 287.

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

Cañons of the Colorado, The. Major G. W. Powell. 564.

Character Building. James Kerr. 153.

Charity of Paris, A Private. 471.

Chautauqua Children’s Class (1883). 62.

Chautauqua for 1884. 543.

Chautauqua to California. Frances Willard, Pres. W. C. T. U. 81.

Chautauqua Winter, Echoes from a. Rev. H. H. Moore. 419.

Class of ’85, To the. 356.

Climate Seeking in America. Geo. A. Townsend. 516.

C. L. S. C. Course for 1884-’85. 600.

C. L. S. C. in Canada, The. 481.

C. L. S. C. in the South. 292.

C. L. S. C. in Toronto, The. 167.

C. L. S. C. Notes on Required Readings.
October, 57.
November, 120.
December, 183.
January, 243.
February, 304.
March, 370.
April, 432.

May, 491.
June, 551.

C. L. S. C. Reunion. 104.

C. L. S. C. Testimony. 103, 606.

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

C. L. S. C. ’84. 355.

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

Cooper Institute. J. M. Buckley, D.D. 398.

Council of Nice, The. 581.

Courts of Three Presidents—Thiers, MacMahon, Grévy. 566.

Dead-Letter Office, The. Pattie L. Collins. 460.

Dreamy Old Town, A. Edith Sessions Tupper. 520.

Earthquakes—Ischia and Java. 83.

Editor’s Note-Book. 54, 117, 180, 241, 302, 368, 430, 488, 548, 610.

Editor’s Outlook:
C. L. S. C. an Educational Necessity, The. 53.
C. L. S. C. Plan, The. 178.
C. L. S. C. Course for 1884-5, The. 607.
Chautauqua Outlook for 1884. 609.
College Reform, A. 116.
Complaint, An Unjust. 367.

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

Editor’s Table. 56, 119.

Education of Negro Population. A. G. Haygood. 148.

Electricity. 89.

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

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

Etiquette. 99.

Experience, A C. L. S. C. 167.

Failings. J. Mortimer-Granville. 39.

Flowers, Early. Francis George Heath. 225.

France, Republican Prospects in. Joseph Reinach. 80.

French History, Readings in. J. H. Vincent, D.D. 315, 377.

From the Baltic To the Adriatic. 36, 87.

Gardening Among the Chinese. 215.

German History. Rev. W. G. Williams. 1, 63, 129, 189, 251.

German Literature. 66.

German Literature, Extracts From.
Goethe, Johann Wolfgang. 194.
Heine, Heinrich. 253.
Humboldt, Alexander von. 253.
Lessing, Gotthold Ephraim. 134.
Luther, Martin. 134.
Sachs, Hans. 133.
Schiller, Friedrich von. 193.

Schleiermacher, Friedrich. 254.
Schopenhauer, Arthur. 255.
Schlegel, Friedrich. 195.
Walther von der Vogelweide. 132.
Winckelman, Johann Joachim. 193.

Going to Europe. 598.

Gospels, The, Considered as a Drama. D. H. Wheeler, D.D. 412.

Graduates C. L. S. C. 310.

Great Organ at Fribourg, The. Edith Sessions Tupper. 94.

Hesitation and Errors in Speech. J. Mortimer-Granville. 454.

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

Hyacinth Bulbs. Grant Allen. 351.

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

Intermediate Normal Class. 188.

Island Park Assembly. 31.

Landmarks of Boston. E. E. Hale. 572.

Lakeside Assembly. 31.

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

Life of a Planet, The. Richard Proctor. 157.

Local Circle, How to Conduct a. 107.

Local Circle Notice. 47.

Local Circles. 105, 169, 230, 288, 356, 422, 478, 539, 601.

London, Disraeli’s. 157.

London Preachers, Some. 536.

Low Spirits. J. Mortimer-Granville. 85.

Man of Learning, Tell Me Something. Margaret Meredith. 150.

Mendelssohn’s Grave and Humboldt’s Home. 339.

Migrations on Foot. Rev. J. G. Wood, M.A. 353.

Missions, Christian. 221.

Monono Lake Assembly. 30.

Monteagle Assembly. Rev. J. H. Warren. 29.

Monterey Assembly. 28.

Mountain Lake Assembly. 31.

Mythology, Slavonic. A. H. Cummings. 34.

Napoleon’s Marshals. 100.

Naval Force, Our. Lieut. G. W. Mentz. 595.

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

New England Assembly. 32.

New England Branch, Class of ’86. 103.

Normal Class, Chautauqua Graduates (1883). 374.

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

Nurses, Trained. Lulie W. Winchester. 466.

Ocean Monarch, An. G. Browne Goode. 582.

Ostrich Hunting. Lady Florence Dixie. 220.

Outline of C. L. S. C. Readings.
October, 47.
November, 112.
December, 166.
January, 228.
February, 288.
March, 355.
April, 422.
May, 478.
June, 539.

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

Phillips, Wendell. Edward Everett Hale. 451.

Physical Science. 3, 67, 135, 196, 255.

Plant Nutrition. Maxwell T. Masters, M.D. 164.

Poachers in England. Jas. Turves. 90.

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

Political Economy. G. M. Steele, D.D. 9, 73, 140, 202.

Popular Education, C. L. S. C. Announcement. 48, 175.

Prisoners and Prisons, Military. O. W. Longan. 475.

Prohibition in Maine. Hon. Neal Dow. 415.

Questions and Answers. A. M. Martin. 49, 109, 172, 234, 294, 362, 425,
482, 544.

Recreation. James Paget. 274.

Recreations of Paris Workmen. R. Heath. 153.

Reunion at Milwaukee. 166.

Roman History, Readings in. W. C. Wilkinson. 437, 497.

Round-Table, C. L. S. C. 171, 233, 292.

Russian Novelist, A. Gabriel Monod. 154.

Schools of Boston, Industrial. E. E. Hale. 417.

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

Sea as an Aquarium, The. C. L. Anderson, M.D. 279, 341.

Skating and Skaters. Robert MacGregor. 159.

Soldiers’ Home. O. W. Logan. 529.

Speculation in Business. Jonathan. 281.

Stationery, C. L. S. C. 103.

Steel Horse, Our. 523.

Summer Meetings at Chautauqua. 597.

Sunbeams from the Circle. 167, 229.

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

Sun and Strange Sunsets, Green. 400.

Table-Talk of Napoleon Bonaparte. 224, 269.

Talk about Books. 126, 248, 314, 436, 495, 556, 612.

Temperature. J. Mortimer Granville. 158.

Tenement House Life in New York. Geo. A. Townsend. 561.

Tricks of Conjurors. Thomas Frost. 125.

Trollope’s (Anthony) Autobiography. 400.

United States History. 267, 336, 395, 448, 506.

University, Chautauqua. 478.

Vanishing Types. Rev. Edward Sprague. 577.

Vegetable Villains. R. Turner. 33, 86.

Waverley Novels. Wallace Bruce. 17.

White House, The. Mrs. Pattie L. Collins. 557.

Wine and Water. Benj. W. Richardson, M.D. 283.

Women as Mistresses of Households, Duties of. F. P. Cobbe. 473.

Women, Work for. 219.

Wreckage, Social. Ellice Hopkins. 40

POETRY.

At Rest. Sarah Doudney. 42.
Autumn Sympathy. E. G. Charlesworth. 80.
Blossoms, To. R. Herrick. 529.
Chillon, Sonnet on. Byron. 582.
Cracked Fiddle, A lay of. Fred. Langbridge. 155.
Divine Sculptor, The. Mrs. Emily J. Bugbee. 451.
Fir Tree, The. Luella Clark. 347.
Flotsom (1492). J. Logie Robertson. 341.
Flowery Fields, In. Mary Harrison. 38.
Gone. E. G. Charlesworth. 40.
Growth. Mrs. Emily J. Bugbee. 561.
Helen’s Tower. Chas. Blatherwick. 338.
His Cold. Foliot S. Pierpoint. 269.
How we Came Together. W. C. Wilkinson, D.D. 32.
Ivy, The. Henry Burton. 19.
Light at Eventide. E. G. Charlesworth. 397.
Luther. Mrs. S. R. Graham Clark. 275.

My Years. Ada Iddings Gale. 343.
Night. Charles Grindrod. 510.
Night. A. St. J. A. 211.
Prayer of Socrates, The. Stuart Blackie. 537.
Returning. Mary Harrison. 148.
Rise Higher. Helen G. Hawthorne. 571.
Sabbath Chimes. Phebe A. Holden. 402.
Self-dependence. Matthew Arnold. 472.
Still Young. Ellen O. Peck. 412.
Stork, The. Translated from the Swedish. 214.
Summer, A Remnant of. E. O. P. 156.
To My Books. Lady Sterling Maxwell. 83.
Under the Autumn Skies. Mrs. Emily J. Bugbee. 161.
Where Lies the Music? Alice C. Jennings. 17.
Zenobia. Ada Iddings Gale. 152.

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

Vol. IV. OCTOBER, 1883. No. 1.

Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle.
President—Lewis Miller, Akron, Ohio.
Superintendent of Instruction—Rev. J. H. Vincent, D.D., New Haven,
Conn.
Counselors—Rev. Lyman Abbott, D.D.; Rev. J. M. Gibson, D.D.;
Bishop H. W. Warren, D.D.; Rev. W. C. Wilkinson, D.D.
Office Secretary—Miss Kate F. Kimball, Plainfield, N. J.
General Secretary—Albert M. Martin, Pittsburgh, Pa.

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

Contents
REQUIRED READING
German History 1
Physical Science
Chapter I—The Air 3
SUNDAY READINGS.
[October 7.]—“Tendencies to Error.” 6
[October 14.] 7
[October 21.] 7
[October 28.] 8

Political Economy 9
Readings in Art
I.—Sculpture: Its Varieties and Materials 11
Selections from American Literature 14
Modern State of Ancient Countries 14
The Design of the New England Plantations 14
Extracts from “Essays to Do Good” 15
Spiritual Knowledge 16

Where Lies the Music? 17
Waverley Novels 17
The Ivy 19

C. L. S. C. Commencement 20
Monterey Assembly 28
Monteagle Assembly 29
Monona Lake Assembly 30
Island Park Assembly 31
Lakeside Assembly 31
Mountain Lake Park Assembly 31

New England Assembly 32
How We Came Together 32
Vegetable Villains 33
Slavonic Mythology 34
From the Baltic to the Adriatic 36
In Flowery Fields 38
Failings 39
Gone! 40
Social Wreckage 40
At Rest 42
Eccentric Americans
I.—The Sailor, Peddler, Farmer, Preacher 43

C. L. S. C. Work 47
Local Circle Notice 47
Outline of C. L. S. C. Studies 47
Popular Education 48
Questions and Answers 49
I.—One Hundred Questions and Answers on “History of Greece,”
Vol. II.,
Parts Seventh and Eighth—Theban Supremacy, and Macedonian
Hellenism 49
II.—Fifty Questions and Answers on American Literature 51

Editor’s Outlook 52
Editor’s Note-Book 54
Editor’s Table 56
C. S. L. C. Notes on Required Readings For October 57
Notes on Required Readings in “The Chautauquan” 60
Chautauqua Children’s Class, 1883 62

REQUIRED READING
FOR THE
Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle for 1882-
83.
OCTOBER.

GERMAN HISTORY.

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

I.

The student of history has need of divisions. By their aid alone can he
hope to have command of the facts and events with which history in so
large part deals. It is well therefore to begin the study of any particular
history by noting such changes, such epoch-making events as may form
partition walls of boxes in which may be placed our classified information.
The history of Germany has been variously divided into periods by the
different authors. That which we have adopted here has the sanction of the
majority and will be found exceedingly natural, and hence simple and
convenient. The student should memorize it thoroughly, being assured that
though a very general history of itself, nevertheless it is more than many of
supposed information could tell of the history of this wonderful people.

DIVISION OF THE HISTORY OF THE GERMANS INTO TEN
PERIODS.
First—From the most ancient times to the conquests of the
Franks, under Clovis (A. D. 486).
Second—From conquests of Clovis to Charlemagne (511-768).
Third—Charlemagne to Henry I. (768-919).
Fourth—Henry I. to Rodolphus of Hapsburg. The Saxon,
Swabian, and Hohenstaufen houses (919-1273).
Fifth—Rodolphus I. of Hapsburg to Charles V. (1273-1520).
Sixth—Charles V. to Peace of Westphalia (1519-1648).

Seventh—Peace of Westphalia to French Revolution (1648-
1789).
Eighth—French Revolution to Peace of Paris (1789-1815).
Ninth—Peace of Paris to Franco-Prussian War (1815-1870-
1871).
Tenth—From Franco-Prussian War to present time.

THE PRIMITIVE POPULATIONS OF GERMANY, THEIR ORIGIN,
CUSTOMS, RELIGION, ETC.
“Germany, or Deutschland, occupies a large part of Central Europe.
Speaking roughly, it now reaches from the Alps to the Baltic and the North
Sea, and from the valleys of the Rhine and the Maes to the Danube as far as
the March and the Mur, and to the Prosna and the Lower Niemen. The
country is mountainous in the south, hilly in the center, and flat in the north,
where it forms part of the great plain which takes in the whole of north-
eastern Europe. The western part of this plain takes in the country between
the Teutoburg Wood and the North Sea. As it passes eastward it widens till
it reaches from the Erz and Riesen Mountains to the Baltic. A part of South
Germany slopes toward the east, and is watered by the Danube; but the
general slope of the country is toward the north. Among the rivers flowing
northward are the Rhine, the Ems, the Weser, the Elbe, the Oder, and the
Vistula.”—Sime.
“Germany has varied very much in extent at different times. This is due
partly to the fact that it has no clearly-marked natural boundaries on the east
and west, but chiefly to the peculiarity of its position. It is the central
country of Europe. Being surrounded by most of the leading nations of the
Continent, the Germans have been involved, more than any other people, in
the general history of Europe. Of all their neighbors, the Scandinavians are
most nearly allied to the Germans. Both are branches of the Teutonic race.
But the Germans are also connected, although not so closely, with the other
surrounding peoples. All, if we except the Magyars or Hungarians, who are
Turanians, belong to the great Aryan family.”—Sime.

“Ancient authors mention several German tribes, as well as their
dwelling places, with greater or less precision. Several of them also speak
of the chief tribes, among which the single septs united themselves. But
their statements are not sufficiently unanimous or precise to give us that
clear view which we would so willingly obtain. The origin of the Germanic
nations, therefore, like that of all others, is uncertain. To assign to them a
distinct historical origin is to make an assertion without evidence, though it
is now indisputably established that the Teutonic dialects belong to one
great family with the Latin, the Greek, the Sanscrit, and other European and
Asiatic tongues. All the positive knowledge that we have of the German
nations, previous to their contact with the Romans, is exceedingly vague
and mere conjecture.”—Menzies.
“The Romans first heard the name ‘Germans’ from the Celtic Gauls, in
whose language it meant simply neighbors. The first notice of a Germanic
tribe was given to the world by the Greek navigator Pytheas, who made a
voyage to the Baltic in the year 330 B. C. Beyond the amber coast, eastward
of the mouth of the Vistula, he found the Goths, of whom we hear nothing
more until they appear, several centuries later, on the northern shore of the
Black Sea. For more than two hundred years there is no further mention of
the Germanic races; then, most unexpectedly, the Romans were called upon
to make their personal acquaintance.”—Bayard Taylor.
“At the time of their first contact with the Romans, these Germanic
tribes had lost even the tradition of their Asiatic origin. They supposed
themselves to have originated upon the soil where they dwelt, sprung either
from the earth or descended from the gods. According to the most popular
legend, the war-god Tuisko, or Tiu, had a son, Mannus (whence the word
man is derived), who was the first human parent of the German race. Many
centuries must have elapsed since their first settlement in Europe, or they
could not have so completely changed the forms of their religion and their
traditional history.”—Taylor.

MANNERS AND CUSTOMS.
“The early Germans were noted for their love of feasting, which was
carried to such excess that they would sometimes spend whole days and
nights at table, drinking and gaming, in consequence of which they often

quarreled and fought so that a convivial meeting frequently terminated in
bloodshed. They gambled with dice, as Tacitus, with astonishment, informs
us, in a sober state and as a serious occupation, and with so much eagerness
for gain, that when they had lost all they hazarded their freedom, and even
their very persons, upon the last cast. The loser freely delivered himself up
to slavery, although even younger and stronger than his adversary, and
patiently allowed himself to be bound and sold as a slave; thus steadfastly
did they keep their word, even in a bad case. ‘They call this good faith,’
says the Roman writer. There were various circumstances under which a
German might forfeit his liberty, such as marrying a bondwoman, or of not
being able to pay his debts; but the generality of the slaves were captives
taken in war.
“The Germans did not all sit down at the same table, but each man had
his own seat and board, which were of a very rough description, being
merely a wooden stool and table, furnished with drinking horns, wooden
bowls, spoons, and platters. Each person of rank had his servant behind him
to hold his shield and spear. He kept his sword by his side, for on no
occasion would a German part with his arms, which was a proof that he
expected to have frequent need of them.
“The wives and daughters of the Germans, we are told, shared in all the
public entertainments, for however rude and fierce these people might be in
other respects, they were distinguished, even in the most barbarous ages, for
their attention and respect to the female sex, whom they consulted on the
most important affairs, and by whose opinions they were very often guided.
The feasts of the Germans, like those of the Gauls and Scandinavians, were
always attended by a number of bards, several of whom were attached to
the family of every chief, and were treated with the highest respect. They
played on the harp and flute, and when they sang of war, the company took
part in the concert by clashing their swords against their shields.
“The Germans, in very remote ages, were dressed in skins of wild
animals, and afterward in a coarse kind of linen, made by the women; but as
they intermixed more with the Gauls, they learned from them to make a
finer sort of linen, and woolen also, and as soon as they were acquainted
with these useful arts, spinning and weaving became the principal
occupations of German women, and a more civilized costume was adopted

than that which was made from the skins of the elk and reindeer. These
animals, in the time of Julius Cæsar, were very numerous in the forests of
Germany, from which, however, they have long since disappeared.
“The Romans justly considered the German nation as an aboriginal,
pure, and unmixed race of people. They resembled themselves alone; and
like the specifically similar plants of the field, which, springing from a pure
seed, not raised in the hot-bed of a garden, but germinating in the healthy,
free, unsheltered soil, do not differ from each other by varieties; so, also,
among the thousands of the simple German race, there was but one
determined and equal form of body. Their chest was wide and strong; their
hair yellow, and with young children it was of a dazzling white. Their skin
was also white, their eyes blue, and their glance bold and piercing. Their
powerful gigantic bodies, which the Romans and Gauls could not behold
without fear, displayed the strength that nature had given to this people; for,
according to the testimony of some of the ancient writers, their usual height
was seven feet. From their earliest youth upward they hardened their bodies
by all devisable means. New-born infants were dipped in cold water, and
the cold bath was continued during their whole lives as the strengthening
renovator, by both boys and girls, men and women. The children ran about
almost naked, and effeminate nations wondered how those of the Germans,
without cradles or swaddling bands, should grow up to the very fullest
bloom of health.
“Cæsar, Tacitus, and Suetonius, with many others, have pointed to one
and the same characteristic of the Germans, as the secret of their power and
prosperity. The Kelt had everywhere yielded to the eagles of Rome, while
the Teuton everywhere checked their flight. Amazed, and even alarmed, at
those tall fair-haired, blue-eyed enemies, who had to be conquered with
gold instead of steel, Tacitus examines the reasons of their prowess, and
finds it in the soberness of their blood, in their reverence for women and for
the laws of nature, in their deference to parental authority and their
marriages of maturity. ‘Chastity is a custom with them,’ says the ‘De
Moribus Germanorum,’ and a passage to the same effect might be cited
from Cæsar. Those southern soldiers and statesmen saw, in truth, with a
terrible sense of overhanging fate, that race of hardy, chaste, home-loving,
free and fearless barbarians, of whom the Emperor Titus said, ‘Their bodies
are great, but their souls are greater.’ The tone of Tacitus is that of a man

who bitterly feels how much greater, after all, as a moral being, the
barbarian may be than the civilized man, when civilization recognizes no
higher aim than material splendor, and that utility which subserves material
wants. Other civilizations than that of the Empire may read a lesson in those
brief pages where the philosopher of a worn-out world records his
impression of the races from which the world was hereafter to be
reconstituted.”—Menzies.
“The three principal vices of the Germans were indolence, drunkenness,
and love of gaming. Although always ready for the toils and dangers of war,
they disliked to work at home. The women ruled and regulated their
households with undisputed sway. They were considered the equals of the
men, and exhibited no less energy and courage. They were supposed to
possess the gift of prophecy, and always accompanied the men to battle,
where they took care of the wounded, and stimulated the warriors by their
shouts and songs. They honored the institution of marriage to an extent
beyond that exhibited by any other people of the ancient world. Those who
proved unfaithful to the marriage vow were punished with death.”—Taylor.

RELIGIOUS BELIEFS AND USAGES.
“The worship of the ancient Germans coincided with their natural
character, and consequently was much more simple and elevated than that
of other peoples. Although uncultivated, they carried in their hearts the
sentiment of an infinite and eternal power, and they regarded it as an affront
to the divinity to enclose it within walls, or to represent it under human
form. They consecrated to it the woods and forests as a spacious temple of
which nature itself erected the pillars, and to which the immensity of the
heavens formed the roof.
“The ancient Germans adored, like the Persians, the sun and fire, but
they regarded Wodan as their supreme god. They called him also Alvater,
father of all things. Their most beneficent goddess was the mother of the
earth (Hertha). The Germans attached great importance to divinations and
prognostics. The crow and the owl signified misfortune; the cuckoo
announced long life. They discovered the future by means of the branches
of fruit trees (runes). Various signs were cut upon each rod, and afterwards
the rods were thrown upon a white cloth; then the priest, or father of the

family, offered up a prayer to the divinity, and thrice chose from among the
rods those which were to give the divine revelations. The clairvoyants were
held in high estimation, and history has preserved some of the names of
those to which the belief of the people had given a great influence over the
decision of public affairs.”—Menzies.
“The people had their religious festivals at stated seasons, when
sacrifices—sometimes of human beings—were laid upon the altars of the
gods in the sacred groves. Even after they became Christians, in the eighth
century, they retained their habit of celebrating some of these festivals, but
changed them into the Christian anniversaries of Christmas, Easter, and
Whitsuntide.
“Thus, from all we can learn respecting them, we may say that the
Germans, during the first century before Christ, were fully prepared by their
habits, laws, and their moral development, for a higher civilization. They
were still restless, after so many centuries of wandering; they were fierce
and fond of war, as a natural consequence of their struggles with the
neighboring races; but they had already acquired a love for the wild land
where they dwelt, they had begun to cultivate the soil, they had purified and
hallowed the family relation, which is the basis of all good government, and
finally, although slavery existed among them, they had established equal
rights for free men.
“If the object of Rome had been civilization, instead of conquest and
plunder, the development of the Germans might have commenced much
earlier and produced very different results.”—Taylor.
[To be continued.]

PHYSICAL SCIENCE.

I.—THE AIR.
When we begin to look attentively at the world around us, one of the
first things to set us thinking is the air. We do not see it, and yet it is present
wherever we may go. What is this air?
Although invisible, it is yet a real, material substance. When you swing
your arm rapidly up and down you feel the air offering a resistance to the
hand. The air is something which you can feel, though you can not see it.
You breathe it every moment. You can not get away from it, for it
completely surrounds the earth. To this outer envelope of air, the name of
atmosphere is given.
The air is not a simple substance, but a mixture of two invisible gases,
called nitrogen and oxygen. But besides these chief ingredients, it contains
also small quantities of other substances; some of which are visible, others
invisible. If you close the shutters of a room, and let the sunlight stream
through only one chink or hole into the room, you see some of the visible
particles of the air. Hundreds of little motes, or specks of dust, cross the
beam of light which makes them visible against the surrounding darkness,
though they disappear in full daylight. But it is the invisible parts of the air
which are of chief importance; and among them there are two which you
must especially remember—the vapor of water and carbonic acid gas. You
will soon come to see why it is needful for you to distinguish these.
Now what is this vapor of water? You will understand its nature if you
watch what takes place when a kettle boils. From the mouth of the spout a
stream of white cloud comes out into the air. It is in continual motion; its
outer parts somehow or other disappear, but as fast as they do so they are
supplied by fresh materials from the kettle. The water in the kettle is all the
while growing less, until at last, if you do not replenish it, the whole will be
boiled away, and the kettle left quite dry. What has become of all the water?
You have changed it into vapor. It is not destroyed or lost in any way, it has

only passed from one state into another, from the liquid into the gaseous
form, and is now dissolved in the air.
Carbonic acid gas is also one of the invisible substances of the
atmosphere, of which, though it forms no more than four parts in every ten
thousand, yet it constitutes an important ingredient. You will understand
how important it is when you are told that, from this carbonic acid in the
air, all the plants which you see growing upon the land extract nearly the
whole of their solid substance. When a plant dies and decays, the carbonic
acid is restored to the air again. On the other hand, plants are largely eaten
by animals, and help to form the framework of their bodies. Animals in
breathing give out carbonic acid gas; and when they die, and their bodies
decay, the same substance is again restored to the atmosphere. Hence the
carbonic acid of the air is used to build up the structure both of plants and
animals, and is given back again when these living things cease to live.
There is a continual coming and going of this material between the air and
the animal and vegetable kingdoms.
You know that though you can not see the air you can feel it when it
moves. A light breeze, or a strong gale, can be just as little seen by the eye
as still air; and yet we readily feel their motion. But even when the air is
still it can make itself sensible in another way, viz: by its temperature. For
air, like common visible things, can be warmed and cooled.
This warming and cooling of the air is well illustrated by what takes
place in a dwelling-house. If you pass out of a warm room, on a winter’s
day, into the open air when there is no wind, you feel a sensation of cold.
Whence does this sensation come? Not from anything you can see, for your
feet, though resting on the frozen ground, are protected by leather, and do
not yet feel the cold. It is the air which is cold, and which encircles you on
all sides, and robs you of your heat; while at the same time you are giving
off or radiating heat from your skin into the air. On the other hand, if, after
standing a while in the chilly winter air, you return into the room again, you
feel a sensation of pleasant warmth. Here, again, the feeling does not come
from any visible object, but from the invisible air which touches every part
of your skin, and is thus robbed of its heat by you.

Now, how is it that the atmosphere should sometimes be warm and
sometimes cold? Where does the heat come from? and how does the air
take it up?
Let us return again to the illustration of the house. In winter, when the air
is keen and frosty outside, it is warm and pleasant indoors, because fires are
there kept burning. The burning of coal and wood produces heat, and the
heat thus given out warms the air. Hence it is by the giving off or radiation
of the heat from some burning substance that the air of our houses is made
warmer than the air outside.
Now, it is really by radiation from a heated body that the air outside gets
its heat. In summer, this air is sometimes far hotter than is usual in
dwelling-houses in winter. All this heat comes from the sun, which is an
enormous hot mass, continually sending out heat in all directions.
But, if the sun is always pouring down heat upon the earth, why is the air
ever cold? Place a screen between you and a bright fire, and you will
immediately feel that some of the heat from the fire place has been cut off.
When the sun is shining, expose your hand to its beams for a time, and then
hold a book between the hand and the sun. At first, your skin is warmed; but
the moment you put it in the shade, it is cooled again. The book has cut off
the heat which was passing directly from the sun to your hand. When the
atmosphere is felt to be cold, something has come in the way to keep the
sun’s heat from directly reaching us.
Clouds cut off the direct heat of the sun. You must often have noticed the
change of temperature, when, after the sun has been shining for a time, a
cloud comes between it and the earth. Immediately a feeling of chilliness is
experienced, which passes off as soon as the cloud has sailed on, and
allowed the sun once more to come out.
The air itself absorbs some of the sun’s heat, and the greater the
thickness of air through which that heat has to make its way, the more heat
will be absorbed. Besides this, the more the rays of heat are slanted the
weaker do they become. At noon, for example, the sun stands high in the
sky. Its rays are then nearest to the vertical, and have also the least thickness
of air to pass through before they reach us. As it descends in the afternoon,
its rays get more and more slanted, and must also make their way through a

constantly increasing thickness of air. Hence the middle of the day is much
warmer than morning or evening.
At night, when the sun no longer shines, its heat does not directly warm
the part of the earth in shadow. That part not only receives no heat from it,
but even radiates its heat out into the cold sky. Hence night is much colder
than day.
Then, again, in summer the sun at noon shines much higher in the sky
with us, or more directly overhead, than in winter. Its heat comes down less
obliquely and has less depth of air to pass through, and hence is much more
felt than in winter, when, as you know, the sun in our part of the world
never rises high even at mid-day.
If we were dependent for our warmth upon the direct heat of the sun
alone, we should be warm only when the sun shines. A cloudy day would be
an extremely cold one, and every night as intensely frosty as it ever is in
winter. Yet such is not the case. Cloudy days are often quite warm; while we
are all aware that the nights are by no means always very cold. There must
be some way in which the sun’s heat is stored up, so that it can be felt even
when he is not shining.
In summer the ground gets warmed; in some parts, indeed, becoming
even so hot at times that we can hardly keep the hand upon it. In hot
countries this is felt much more than in this country. Soil and stones absorb
heat steadily, that is to say, soon get heated, and they soon cool again. When
they have been warmed by the sun, the air gets warmed by contact with
them, and keeps its heat longer than they do; so that even when at night the
soil and stones have become ice-cold, the air a little above is not so chilly.
On the other hand, when the surface of the ground is cold, it cools the air
next it. The ground parts easily with its heat, and a vast amount of heat is in
this way radiated at night from the earth outward into the cold starry space.
Much more heat, however, would be lost from this cause did not the
abundant aqueous vapor of the atmosphere absorb part of it, and act as a
kind of screen to retard the radiation. This is the reason why in hot climates,
where the air is very dry—that is, contains a small proportion of the vapor
of water—the nights are relatively colder than they are in other countries
where the air is moister. In like manner, clouds serve to keep heat from

escaping; and hence it is that cloudy nights are not so cold as those which
are clear and starry.
The atmosphere, then, is heated or cooled according as it lies upon a
warm or cold part of the earth’s surface; and, by means of its aqueous
vapor, it serves to store up and distribute this heat, keeping the earth from
such extremes of climate as would otherwise prevail.
The air lying next to a hot surface is heated; the air touching a cold
surface is cooled. And upon such differences of temperature in the air the
formation of winds depends.
Hot or warm air is lighter than cold air. You have learned how heat
expands bodies. It is this expansion of air, or the separation of its particles
further from each other which makes it less dense or heavy than cold air,
where the particles lie more closely together. As a consequence of this
difference of density, the light warm air rises, and the heavy cold air sinks.
You can easily satisfy yourselves of this by experiment. Take a poker, and
heat the end of it in the fire until it is red-hot. Withdraw it, and gently bring
some small bits of very light paper, or some other light substance, a few
inches above the heated surface. The bits of paper will be at once carried up
into the air. This happens because the air, heated by the poker, immediately
rises, and its place is taken by colder air, which, on getting warmed,
likewise ascends. The upward currents of air grow feebler as the iron cools,
until, when it is of the same temperature as the air around, they cease.
This is the principle on which our fire-places are constructed. The fire is
not kindled on the hearth, for, in that case, it would not get a large enough
draft of air underneath, and would be apt to go out. It is placed some way
above the floor, and a chimney is put over it. As soon as the fire is lighted,
the air next it gets warmed, and begins to mount, and the air in the room is
drawn in from below to take the place of that which rises. All the air which
lies above the burning coal gets warmer and lighter; it therefore flows up
the chimney, carrying with it the smoke and gases. You will understand that
though a bright blazing fire is a pleasant sight in winter, we do not get all
the heat which it gives out. On the contrary, a great deal of the heat goes up
the chimney; and, except in so far as it warms the walls, passes away and
warms the outer air.

What happens in a small way in our houses takes place on a far grander
scale in nature. As already pointed out, the sun is the great source of heat
which warms and lightens our globe. While the heat of the sun is passing
through the air, it does very little in the way of warming it. The heat goes
through the air, and warms the surface of the earth. You know that in
summer the direct rays of the sun are hot enough to burn your face, and yet,
if you put even a thin sheet of paper over your head, enough to cut off these
rays, the sensation of burning heat at once goes off, although the same air is
playing about you all the time.
Both land and water are heated by the sun’s rays, and the same change in
the air then takes place which we find also at our firesides. The layer of air
next the warmed earth becomes itself warmed. As it thereby grows lighter it
ascends, and its place is taken by colder air, which flows in from the
neighborhood to take its place. This flowing in of air is wind.
One of the most important ingredients in the air is the vapor of water.
Let us try to see, first of all, how it gets into and out of the air. And in this
case, as before, you will find that great questions in science often admit of
being simply and readily illustrated by the most familiar things.
You may have noticed that on very cold nights the windows of sitting-
rooms, or crowded public halls, are apt to be found streaming with water on
the inside.
Now, in such cases, where does the moisture come from? Certainly not
out of the glass. It is derived from the vapor of water present in the air. This
word vapor is often used to describe some kind of visible mist or fog. But
these visible forms of moisture are not properly vapor in the sense in which
the term is used in science. The aqueous vapor of the air is always invisible,
even when the air is saturated with it, and only when it passes back into the
state of water do you actually see anything.
When the invisible vapor dissolved in the air becomes visible, as in
mists, clouds, dew, or rain, it is said to be condensed, and this process of
liquefaction is called condensation.
The quantity of vapor which the air can contain varies according to
temperature, warm air being able to hold more than cold air.

As the air is cooled, its power of retaining vapor diminishes. When it
becomes colder than the temperature at which it is able to keep its supply of
vapor dissolved, the excess of vapor is condensed and becomes visible. The
temperature at which this takes place is the point of saturation, or dew-
point.
Perhaps you may ask how it is that the vapor so universally present gets
into the atmosphere, and where it comes from. If you pour a little water into
a plate, and set it down in the open air, you will note in the course of a day
or two, that the water has sensibly diminished. The air has drunk up part of
it, and will drink up the whole, if the water is allowed to stand long enough.
What takes place from a small quantity of water goes on from every surface
of water on the face of the earth, from every brook and river and lake, and
from the great sea itself. Water is constantly passing off into vapor, which is
received and retained by the air. This process is called evaporation, and the
water which passes off into vapor is said to evaporate.
Since warm air can hold more vapor than cold air, evaporation must be
more vigorous in sunshine than at night, and during summer than during
winter.
On a dry, bracing day, evaporation goes on rapidly, because the air has
not nearly got all the quantity of vapor it can hold in solution. On a damp
day, however, when the air contains about as much vapor as it can hold at
that particular temperature, evaporation is quite feeble, or ceases altogether.
This varying capacity of the air for vapor is the reason why laundresses find
so much difference between days, in the ease with which they can have
their clothes dried.
After sunset, when the sky is clear, you know that the grass gets wet
with dew. In the morning you may see mists hanging over woods, and
streams, and hills, and gradually melting away as the sun mounts in the sky.
At all times of the year you may watch how clouds form and dissolve, and
form again, ever changing their size and shape as they move through the air.
Now these are all examples of the condensation of vapor. Let us see how
the process takes place.
Condensation, as we have seen, results from a cooling of the air. When
vapor is condensed, it does not at once take the form of running water. The

cold glass brought into the warm room has first a fine film of mist formed
upon it, and then by degrees the clear drops of water come. In reality mist is
made up of exceedingly minute particles of water, and it is the running
together of these which makes the larger drops. So in nature on the great
scale, when condensation occurs the vapor first appears as a fine mist. This
is always the result of cooling; so that, whenever you see a mist or cloud
forming, you may conclude that the air in which it lies is being cooled.
Dew is the name given to the wetness which we notice appearing in the
evening, or at night, upon grass, leaves, or stones, or even sometimes on our
hair. In the morning you have, no doubt, often watched the little dewdrops
sparkling upon the foliage and the delicate threads of gossamer. Now this
wetness does not come out of the leaves or stones, nor out of your hair. It is
all derived from the air by condensation, exactly as we see the film of mist
form upon the cold tumbler in the warm moist air of a room. In fact, that
film of mist was really dew, and all dew is formed in the same way, and
from the same cause.
At night, when the sky is clear, the earth radiates heat rapidly; that is to
say, it gives off into cold space a great part of the heat which it has received
from the sun during the day. Its surface consequently becomes cold, as you
may have felt when you put your hand upon leaves or stones after nightfall.
The layer of air next the cooled ground is chilled below its point of
condensation, and the excess of vapor is deposited as dew upon the grass,
twigs, stones, and other objects. Hence it is that the temperature at which
this condensation begins to take place is called the dew-point.
Another way in which a cold surface of the earth may produce
condensation is shown by what takes place among mountains. When a
warm moist wind blows upon a chill mountain top, the air is cooled, and its
vapor becomes visible in the form of a mist or cloud. You can often see that
the cloud is quite solitary, and even shapes itself to the form of the ground,
as if it were a sort of fleecy cap drawn down over the mountain’s head. This
is often well marked in the morning. As day advances, the ground, warmed
by the sun, no longer cools the air, and hence the mist is gradually re-
absorbed into the atmosphere. But by and by, at the coming on of night,
when the ground is once more cooled by radiation, if there should be vapor

enough in the air, the mist will re-form, and the mountain put on his cap
again.
Cold air, as well as cold ground, condenses the vapor of warmer air. If
you watch what goes on along the course of a river, you will often see
examples of this kind of condensation. The ground on either side of the
river parts with its heat after sundown sooner than the river itself does, and
consequently cools the air above it more than the air above the river is
cooled. So when this colder air from either side moves over to take the
place of the warmer damp air lying on and rising from the river,
condensation ensues in the form of the mist or river-fog, which so
commonly hangs at night and early morning over streams.
A cloud is merely a mist formed by the cooling of warm moist air, when
it loses its heat from any cause, such as expansion during ascent, or contact
with currents of cooler air. If you watch what goes on in the sky, you may
often see clouds in the act of forming. At first a little flake of white appears.
By degrees this grows larger, and other cloudlets arise and flock together,
until at last the sky is quite overcast with heavy clouds, and rain begins to
fall. The vapor which is thus condensed in the air has all been obtained by
the evaporation of the water on the earth’s surface. It rises with the warm
air, which losing its heat as it ascends, and coming too in contact with
colder layers of the atmosphere, can not hold all its vapor, and is obliged to
get rid of the excess, which then condenses into cloud.
On a summer morning the sky is often free from cloud. As the day
advances, and the earth gets warmed, more vapor is raised; and as this
vapor, borne upward by the ascending air-currents, reaches the higher and
colder parts of the atmosphere, it is chilled into the white fleecy clouds
which you see forming about mid-day and in the afternoon. Toward
evening, when less evaporation takes place, the clouds cease to grow, and
gradually lessen in size until at night the sky is quite clear. They have been
dissolved again by descending and coming in contact with the warm air
nearest to the earth. Again, you have often noticed that clouds move across
the sky. They are driven along by upper currents of air, and of course the
stronger these currents are the faster do the clouds travel. In this way the
sky is sometimes completely overcast with clouds which have come from a
distance.

You are well aware that rain always comes from clouds in the sky. When
the sky is clear overhead, no rain falls. Only when it gets overcast does the
rain come. You can watch a dark rain-cloud gather itself together and
discharge a heavy shower upon the earth. When a cold glass is brought into
a warm room, you will remember that the film of mist formed upon the
glass is found by degrees to gather into drops, and trickles down the cold
surface. Now the mist on the glass and the cloud in the sky are both formed
of minute particles of water, separated by air. It is the running together of
these particles which gives rise to these drops. In the one case, the drops run
down the cold glass. In the other case, they fall as drops of rain through the
air. Rain, therefore, is thus a further stage in the condensation of the
aqueous vapor of the atmosphere. The minute particles of the cloud, as
condensation proceeds, gather more moisture round them, until at last they
form drops of water, too heavy to hang any longer suspended in the air.
These then fall to the earth as rain-drops.
But there is another important form in which the moisture of the clouds
may descend to the surface of the earth. When the weather is cold enough,
there fall to the ground not drops of rain, but flakes of snow.
If you bring snow indoors, it soon melts into water. If you expose this
water for a time it evaporates. Snow, water, and aqueous vapor are thus only
different forms of the same substance. We say that water can exist in three
forms—the gaseous, the liquid, and the solid. Snow is an example of the
solid condition.
On a frosty night pools of water are covered with a hard, transparent
crust, of what is called ice. You may break this crust into pieces, but if the
cold continues, a new crust will soon be formed with bits of the old one
firmly cemented in it. And the greater the cold the thicker will the crust be,
until perhaps the whole of the water in the pools may become solid. If you
take a piece of this solid substance, you find it to be cold, brittle, and
transparent. Brought into a warm room it soon melts into water, and you
may drive off the water as before into vapor. Ice is the general name given
to water when it is in the solid state, such forms as snow and hail being only
different appearances which ice puts on. Whenever water becomes colder
than a certain temperature it passes into ice, or freezes, and this temperature
is consequently known as the freezing-point.

The upper layers of the atmosphere are much colder than the freezing-
point of water. In the condensation which takes place there, the clouds do
not resolve themselves into rain. The vapor of the up-streaming currents of
warm air from the earth’s surface is condensed and frozen in these high
regions, and passes into little crystals, which unite into flakes of snow. Even
in summer the fine white cloudlets which you see floating at great heights
are probably formed of snow. But in those countries, such as ours, where in
winter the air even at the surface is sometimes very cold, the snow falls to
the ground, and lies there as a white covering, until returning warmth melts
it away.
Besides rain and snow, the moisture of the air takes sometimes the form
of hail, which consists of little lumps of ice like frozen rain; and of sleet,
which is partially melted snow. But rain and snow are the most important,
and it is these two forms which we must follow a little further.
Before doing so, let us gather together the sum of what has been said
about the aqueous vapor of the air. We have learned that, as every sheet of
water on the face of the globe evaporates, the air is full of vapor; that this
vapor is condensed into visible form, and appears as dew, mist, and cloud.
We have learned further, that the vapor of which clouds are formed is
resolved into rain and snow, and, in one or other of these forms, descends to
the earth again. There is thus a circulation of water between the solid earth
beneath and the air above. This circulation is as essential to the earth in
making it a fit habitation for living things, as the circulation of blood is in
keeping our bodies alive. It mixes and washes the air, clearing away
impurities, such as those which rise from the chimneys of a town. It
moistens and quickens the soil, which it renders capable of supporting
vegetation. It supplies springs, brooks, and rivers. In short, it is the very
mainspring of all the life of the globe. So important a part of the machinery
of the world deserves our careful consideration. Let us next attend,
therefore, to what becomes of the rain and the snow after they have been
discharged from the air upon the surface of the earth.
[To be continued.]

SUNDAY READINGS.

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

[October 7.]
“TENDENCIES TO ERROR.”

By Rev. WILLIAM FRASER, LL.D.
“Let no one, upon a weak conceit of sobriety or an ill-applied
moderation, think or maintain that a man can search too far, or be
too well studied in the book of God’s word, or in the book of God’s
works—divinity or philosophy—but rather let men endeavor an
endless progress or proficiency in both; only let them beware that
they apply both to charity and not to arrogance; to use, and not to
ostentation; and again, that they do not mingle or confound these
learnings together.”—Bacon.
Many have lost their early faith in the Bible and are following its
guidance with faltering footstep. Between them and hitherto accepted truths
the sciences have been placing apparently insurmountable obstacles. The
trustful simplicity with which they once read the sacred record has almost
perished. Inferences by the man of science, conflicting with the
interpretations of scripture by the theologian, have rudely shaken their most
cherished convictions. They are not infidels, they are not skeptics, for doubt
is distasteful to them, they long for more definite expositions and a firmer
faith.
Such, possibly, may be some of you. In the midst of such discussions as
are at present in progress, perplexity is not unnatural. Your most anxiously
sustained investigations have hitherto only multiplied difficulties, and a
sense of responsibility alone constrains you to linger over conclusions from
which your judgment recoils. This hesitancy of belief may be at the outset

disheartening; yet it may be inseparable from that clearness of insight and
that force of character which, in the end, commonly create the stablest
convictions, and evoke adequate proof to shield them. To shun or to
denounce you because you can not acquiesce in what we believe is
inconsistent, not only with the lessons of philosophy, but with his example
to “bear witness to the truth.”
What is your duty, with the natural sciences on the one hand, appealing
so largely to your reason, and the scriptures on the other hand, appealing so
constantly to your faith? Obviously, to depreciate neither, but to welcome
both the sciences and the scriptures, to ascertain their harmony, to note their
differences, and to accept all the treasures of truth which they may bring.
Indifference is inexcusable as is excessive zeal, and apathy as antagonism.
The Bible, free to us as are the fields of science, challenges the severest
scrutiny. It is the boldest of books, and demands the application of every
test. As it is the most comprehensive history in the world, and gives amplest
scope for research; as its earliest records are the oldest in existence, and its
latest prophecies shed light far into the future; as it touches depths and
reaches heights which no other book can approach; as it brings into closest
connection the visible and invisible, natural law and supernatural force, the
condition of man and the character of God, it is exposed to assaults which
no other book can bear.
Systematic and persistent study is required at your hand, that you may
estimate aright not only the facts and arguments brought against the Bible,
but those also which are adduced in its favor. The task may be arduous, but
this price is not too great for the settlement of questions so momentous; and
if the solution of some of them may have to be for a season postponed,
yours will be the satisfaction which the conscientious improvement of every
opportunity invariably fosters.
Different lines of investigation may be profitably followed, but we may
suggest the following as exhaustive, or nearly exhaustive, of the most
prominent questions which modern research has raised.
As the Bible is confessedly related to the natural sciences, archæology,
history, and modern civilization, let it be placed successively in the midst of
their facts, and let us see to what extent its statements can bear their light.

There are many questions which none of us can honestly avoid; and
while some may remain unsettled, the unbiased review of those solutions
which have been already offered, and which have been generally accepted,
will be found to confirm scripture instead of confuting it.
1. As to science. Have astronomy and geology given evidence for or
against the eternity of the visible universe? Has biology determined the
origin of life? Whence it is? Have comparative anatomy and physiology,
psychology and ethics, established more than one origin for the human
race? Are the incidental allusions in scripture contradicted or confirmed in
natural science?
2. As to archæology. Can the Bible confront prehistoric revelations?
Antiquity is pouring over the oldest records, increasing light. Ruins,
monuments, inscriptions, parchments, have been emitting their wondrous
testimonies, parallel with scripture histories. Assyria, Egypt, Palestine,
Greece, Rome, in their histories, revolutions, and domestic episodes, have
all been interwoven with the statements of scripture as with those of no
other book. To what purpose has historic criticism dealt with the sacred
page? Is the Bible yielding or is it growing brighter in the crucible of
archæology?
3. As to modern history and civilization. By its claim to uplift and bless
the human race, the Bible is separated from all other books. It proposes to
revolutionize man’s moral history here, and to prepare him for a future
whose course it in part delineates. Has it failed, or is it failing? Has it been
enfeebled by the lapse of ages? Has it become effete amid changes which
have given intellect new instruments and reason new spheres? Has it lost its
former hold of the human mind, and is it sinking amid the tumult of bitterly
conflicting opinions? Has ever tribe been found which it could not raise and
enlighten? Or has ever civilization outshone, in any land, its intellectual and
moral splendor?
4. As to the supernatural. If the Bible is the book which it professes to
be, and which we hold it is, the ordinary and the extraordinary, the natural
and the supernatural, must be associated in its character and history. What is
the warrant which men of science adduce for repudiating the supernatural
while they accept the natural? And by what reason does the Christian

apologist attempt to preserve their connection? Is there no evidence around
us in the contrasts of barbarism and civilization, as well as in the histories
of nations, in their relation to prophecy? And are there no facts in the
strangely revolutionized lives of thousands in the Christian church, which
proclaim the singular moral force of the word of God?

[October 14.]

Assuming that you are willing to follow such a course of study as we
have sketched, either to remove doubts which may be lingering in your own
mind, or to aid some brother in his struggle to win the repose which you
have gained, we shall, at the outset, offer some suggestions as to the spirit
and the method by which your work should be characterized. It is of much
importance to know, what is, and what is not, within our reach.
1. Do not assume the possibility, in the present state of our knowledge,
of demonstrating a perfect agreement between science and scripture, or
rather between the inferences of the philosopher and the interpretations of
the theologian. Much remains to be ascertained before that result can be
realized. The natural sciences are confessedly incomplete; some of them are
only in their infancy, and can teach us little. Many years may pass before
they can be brought into perfect accord with the Bible. As the facts of
natural science have not been all ascertained and classified, as its laws have
not been all recognized, and as the inferences of to-day may be modified by
the discoveries of to-morrow, it is absurd to be demanding immediate
evidence of a perfect agreement between science and scripture. Apparent
contradictions are, at the present stage unavoidable. There must first be an
exact and exhaustive examination of all those points at which the scriptures
and the sciences touch each other; for so long as a single fact or a single law
remains unknown, some important or essential truth, intimately related to
the Bible, may be concealed. While the natural sciences continue
incomplete, natural theology must necessarily have an imperfect
foundation. As confessedly dependent on what is incomplete, natural
theology can have neither the comprehensiveness nor the definiteness
which characterizes supernatural theology, as dependent on what is now
complete and unvarying. We can not force the legitimate yet somewhat

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

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

[October 21.]

4. Neither accept nor offer apologies for the Bible. It has, of late, become
common on the part of those who are alarmed by the temporary triumphs
which scientific investigation has given to those who are avowedly hostile
to the Bible, to demand that its propositions be altogether disassociated
from both science and philosophy, on the plea that the Bible was not given
to teach either the one or the other. The proposal is plausible, but it is really
unnecessary, for although not given to teach physical science, the Bible can
not contradict either its facts or its legitimate inferences. The word of God
can not be regarded as by any possibility contradicting the just lessons of
his works. Like every other book, the Bible must bear all the light that can
fall on its pages; and it must not only stand the tests of criticism and history,
but vindicate all its claims as the “more sure word of prophecy.” Otherwise,
appeals for leniency are profitless. True, in its highest connections, the

Bible is unapproachable by other books; it is easily distinguishable from
them all; yet in its human relations it must submit to all the ordinary
appliances of scholarship. No apologies can justify a single error in either
its science or its history, and its propositions are obviously inadmissable if
they contradict human reason; they may be above, but they can not be
opposed to it.
5. Akin to an easy escape from difficulties, through apologies for the
Bible, is the tendency to glide into conclusions directly hostile. The
prevailing activity of the age is so unfavorable to leisurely investigations as
to facilitate the subtle advances of error. While many writers of the present
day are as preëminently gifted, and as distinguished in the different
departments of learning, as those of any preceding age; and while their
reasonings and their conclusions are borne by the daily and the serial press
to every man’s door, multitudes think and decide by substitute. They want
leisure, and trust to others. Rapidity of locomotion, the chief physical
feature of our time, betokens also its intellectual tendencies. Men read
cursorily and decide rapidly. The daily newspaper is making book-study
rarer than hitherto. It is felt in ten thousand instances to be distasteful or
difficult. The subtle influence of the daily newspaper is telling on our
thoughtfulness. We really seem to be approaching the fulfillment of
Lamartine’s prediction, “Before this century shall have run out, journalism
will be the whole press, the whole of human thought. Thought will not have
had time to ripen, to accommodate itself into the form of a book. The book
will arrive too late; the only book possible soon, will be a newspaper.”
As one result of this process, truth and error are often imperceptibly
mingled. So swift is the transition from one fact and inference to another,
that truth and error, like different colors blent into one by rapid motion,
become so much alike, that few can separate them. Thus with every
advance of truth, error is wafted forward. The seeds of future tares and
wheat are being profusely scattered. It can not be denied, that while to
almost every man’s door are daily wafted accurate records of passing
history, of the discoveries of science, of the triumphs of art, and of the
generalizations of philosophy, the same messengers no less sedulously
exhibit, now faintly and now in the strongest light, every difficulty
connected with the Bible, both real and imaginary, the boldest objections of
historic criticism, the theories of speculative philosophy, the apparent

contradictions of science and scripture, and the saddening conflicts of
professing Christians. The constant diffusion of such influences does tell in
the long run, not only on less active minds, but on the most energetic, and it
renders easier of acceptance every erroneous conclusion.
But this incessant activity is a symptom of health. It augurs good.
Rightly directed, it may strengthen character while it develops mental
power, and gives a more exquisite appreciation of the just and true. But
remember that everything depends on this rightness of direction; and to
secure this, unfailing caution is required. The wind and tide which, rightly
used, would hasten the voyager to his harbor, may, if unheeded, strand him
on an unexpected shore; and those subtle forces, and those under-currents,
which should have aided in guiding us to a satisfying intellectual and moral
repose, may, through the thoughtlessness or the indolence that at the outset
disregarded a slight divergence from the truth, almost but not altogether
imperceptible, destroy our happiness through the shipwreck and the
ultimate abandonment of our Christian faith.
6. Another common tendency in the wrong direction claims your
attention. It manifests itself in repugnance to controversy or discussion in
every form. Many shrink from it as unseemly, and seek escape in either
solitude or study. While peace is in itself desirable, it is not always
attainable. You cannot escape conflict by letting go the Bible; nor can you
traverse any fields of science without entanglement in the intellectual
struggles of disputants whose reasonings have sometimes but little of the
calmness of philosophy. Nor is this to be regretted. The repose of
meditation is not so bracing as the discipline of occasional contest for the
truth.

[October 28.]

There are other advantages. The attrition of discussion often reveals and
beautifies truths which would otherwise have remained unrecognized.
Apathy or silence may shelter error without preserving truth. Intellectual
indolence, bad for the world, is still worse for the Church. The highest life
is demanded by the Bible, and, therefore, also the greatest activity. From
intellectual warfare, the sciences and the scriptures have nothing to lose, but

everything to gain. On Christian or skeptic, on prophet true or false, the
Bible never enforces silence. It seals no thinker’s lip. “The prophet that hath
a dream, let him tell a dream; and he that hath my word, let him speak my
word faithfully. What is the chaff to the wheat? saith the Lord.” In the field
of thought, nothing save the chaff perishes. Lost truths spring up again; and,
beneath their spreading branches, vitiated reasoning, unsound criticism, and
erroneous conclusions, ultimately decay as briers beneath the spreading
oak.
There are those also who deplore discussion only because it raises
questions hostile to the scriptures, and alarms the weak. This anxiety,
though laudable, is fruitless. Vital questions are already discussed on all
hands, and in every variety of aspect. There are disadvantages, but they are
generally inseparable from the progress of truth.
It will be admitted on both sides, that while the extension of exact
knowledge contracts the sphere of superstition, it enlarges at the same time
the sphere of skepticism. Superstition may be displaced without Christianity
becoming its substitute; there may be a high and an attractive civilization,
based on science and its applications, which, in acknowledging the
intellectual and moral supremacy of the Bible, and nothing more, may for a
season destroy credulity, only to give fuller scope to no-belief, and to evoke
ultimately an opposition to the Bible hitherto repressed or unknown. For
such results we must be prepared; they are collateral, not essential or direct.
They are, in fact, the price which we pay for our intellectual freedom. We
are neither to falter nor hesitate because the increasing light, which is
dissipating ignorance and extending the boundaries of truth, is at the same
time indirectly opening to error a wider field for the distribution of her
forces, revealing new weapons for her armory, and enabling her to seize and
for a season to retain, positions hitherto unknown and unassailed. In the
history of the physical sciences, and of archæological discovery, error has
often rushed to the battlements of truth, and, seizing some detached or
imaginary facts, has wielded them against the Bible, until the sciences have
themselves expelled her, and repudiated her reasoning. Such agitation is not
to be deplored; it conducts to stability, it evokes more good than evil, and
not unfrequently has it happened that the superstition which long benumbed
the Church, and the infidelity which aroused her, have yielded to the

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

mistakes and the arrogance of many of their students, but rebuking the too
hasty concessions of Christian apologists, and either directly or indirectly
revealing, at the same time, the impressiveness and the majesty of scripture
truth.

POLITICAL ECONOMY.

By G. M. STEELE, D.D.

I.

I. DEFINITIONS—UTILITY OF THE SUBJECT.
1. Social science comprises the statement and explanation of the natural
laws which govern men in their mutual relations. Political economy is the
application of that portion of those laws which pertain to the production and
distribution of wealth. Now we are not to be discouraged by this term
wealth, as though the subject were one which concerns only rich men, and
in which a poor man could have no interest. The man who has a little
property, worth only one or two hundred dollars, is just as really a possessor
of wealth as one who has one or two millions; and to be able to acquire and
rightly use these small fortunes is, in the aggregate, of more importance
than the acquisition and management of the greater riches of the few.
2. But what is meant by wealth? For the present it is enough to say that it
comprises all things which have value. A more complete definition will
follow by and by. What, then, do we mean by value? This, too, has many
forms of definition, but they for the most part have one element in common.
The general notion concerning it is that it has reference to the amount of
one commodity that may be equitably given in exchange for a designated
amount of another; this is a correct notion. Thus a bushel of wheat may be
exchanged for two bushels of oats, or a cord of wood for twenty yards of
cloth. That is, the value of a bushel of wheat is that of two bushels of oats,
and the value of twenty yards of cloth is the same as that of a cord of wood.
It is thus seen to be a relative term, and not indicative of any quality of any
one thing considered by itself. But in all instances of relationship there must
be some ground of the relation. Let us try to determine what it is in this
case. A superficial thinker might decide that it is money, from the fact that

value is generally estimated in money. But money is itself in the same
relation to all other commodities in this respect as they are to one another,
and its value rests upon the same basis.
3. The chief element in value, and that constitutes its original standard, is
the cost of production; and by cost is meant the amount of labor involved.
Labor is the voluntary effort put forth by man to secure some desired object.
But when we say this, a little caution is needed. We are not to infer that the
present value of an article is estimated by the amount of labor required at
the time of its production, especially if that was a long time ago. A hundred
years since, it required the labor of a man for days to produce a yard of
cotton cloth. A dozen yards of better cloth can now be produced by the
same amount of labor; of course the present value of the latter is superior to
the present value of the former, even if this were as good as new. It is the
labor that would be required to reproduce or replace an article which
determines its value.
4. But there is another element which is essential to value; this is utility.
It comprises all those qualities in an object which make it available to
gratify any desire. It will readily be seen that there are objects which have
utility and at the same time are without value. They are such objects as cost
nothing; that is, such as involve no labor in their acquisition. Thus air, and
sunshine, and rain, have no value; but they are of immeasurable utility.
Value is often in the inverse ratio of utility. Iron is a far more useful metal
than gold, but gold is vastly more valuable than iron. Still, though utility
may exist where there is no value, there can be no value where there is no
utility; because no one would put forth effort for that which could not
gratify any desire, and it is the ability to gratify desire that constitutes
utility. Sometimes utility becomes the paramount element in determining
value; but ordinarily it is subordinate to the cost of production. When the
article is one for which there is a very great demand, and of which there is a
great scarcity, the value may increase many times beyond the cost. In such
case the utility rather than cost rules. But where the demand is readily and
fully met by the supply, the cost controls.
5. But valuable things can not be produced very largely without tools,
implements, and various contrivances. These constitute capital. Capital is
the result of previous labor reserved and employed in further production.

This implies self-denial. A man can not consume what he has secured by
labor and at the same time preserve it to aid in additional production. Hence
he must restrain his desires if he would save something for this purpose.
This capital is sometimes called pre-existent labor. The point to be observed
is that its existence is due, not to labor alone, but to abstinence as well. The
two elements in the cost of production are labor and abstinence, and we
may combine these in the one term, sacrifice. Sacrifice and utility, then, are
the two essential conditions of value; and we may complete our definition
of value by saying that value is man’s estimate of the amount of sacrifice
requisite to the attainment of a desired object.
6. Hence, if wealth comprises all valuable objects, and if every desirable
object which involves sacrifice has value, it would be a proper definition to
say that wealth consists of all those objects and qualities useful to man, the
attainment of which involves sacrifice. This includes not only material
objects and qualities, but also all those human powers acquired by sacrifice,
which enable man to master nature. This is not admitted by many writers.
But Mr. Carey states, in a broad way, that “Wealth is the power to command
the always gratuitous services of nature.” When man is at his weakest
nature does nothing for him. Every infant, if dependent on nature alone,
would inevitably perish. So in the infancy of society, it is only by the most
strenuous exertion that a precarious existence is secured. But with every
increment of power in man, nature multiplies her services. They are not
bought but freely given, and given as soon as man is able to command
them. In the most advanced civilization the forces of nature have become so
subservient to man that in thousands of cases one can accomplish what a
score, or sometimes even a hundred, could not formerly have done. It is this
increase of power more than that of material commodities which constitutes
the real wealth of the world.
7. From this it follows that the proper subject of political economy is
MAN. The laws pertaining to the underlying science are found in the nature
and character of man—in his tastes, his desires, in the motives influencing
him and in the limitations to which he is subject. The results to be achieved
are his prosperity and freedom, his mastery over nature, and his happiness.
Here, then, is the prime reason why every person who aspires to any
intelligence at all should have some acquaintance with this subject. It has to
do more than any other study with his temporal welfare, and with the

welfare of society, without the prosperity of which his individual prosperity
will suffer.
8. A second reason is implied in the meaning of the terms used.
Economy is from a Greek compound signifying husbandry. It has reference
to the prudent management by a householder of his means so as to secure
the largest measure of prosperity for his family. It does not mean parsimony,
nor even mere frugality; that is, it does not consist in mere abstinence for
the sake of saving. It is rather a wise use of means and forces, so as to make
them as effective as possible. There is an old proverb which says, “There is
more in calculation than in hard work,” and though sometimes perverted in
the interest of human laziness, it is nevertheless full of philosophy. It is this
“calculation” which such a study greatly aids.
9. Political economy, as the term implies, has reference to man in
society,—to “the body politic.” The social element in man is as imperative
as any part of his constitution. Man’s greatest need is association. The
solitary individual is only a minute constituent of man in man’s relation to
the main purposes of life. No man is complete in himself. He must be
supplemented by others, generally by many others, and he must find a large
part of his own completeness in this association. Each has something that
others lack, and we are designed to be sources of mutual supply to our
several wants.
Here emerges another vital fact. Individuality is as indispensable as
association. A superficial thinker might regard these characteristics as
antagonistic. The fact is so far otherwise that each is really dependent on the
other. Men must differ in order to be of any use to one another. It is the
difference that makes the individuality. Mutual aid is the object of
association. Hence the greater the difference, the greater the individuality;
and the greater the individuality, the greater the association. No man would
associate with another unless the one had something which the other lacked.
But for this there would be no commerce. Two farmers producing nothing
but wheat would have nothing to exchange with each other. Two men of
precisely the same mental possessions, habits and aptitudes, would never be
companions for each other.

On the other hand it is only by association that individuality becomes the
most highly developed. Only by such development do the differences
among men become great and numerous. In the lower grades of humanity
there is comparatively little difference between individuals, and there is
little association. It is only in advanced civilization that a strongly marked
individuality exists, and that we find those numerous differences which
make the mutual dependence the greatest. Here is a potent reason for the
study of this subject. It is impossible to estimate the power of association in
production alone. It is known in a general way that the combination of men
gives greatly increased results as compared with those of men working
separately. Yet it is not nearly realized that a hundred men properly
associated in an industrial enterprise will often effect two or three hundred
times as much as all the very same men working separately.
10. Again, this subject intimately concerns man in his governmental
relations. For governments must furnish many of the conditions for the best
economical results. Then, too, the great moral enterprises of the age, and of
all ages, have to do with the principles here involved; education, pauperism,
vicious social usages, the dangerous classes, have to be considered, and can
only rightly be considered in the light of these truths. It is wonderful how
closely this study is connected with all the great interests of humanity.
Whole communities which have been impoverished and demoralized by
neglecting some of the obvious principles of political economy, have
revived and prospered under their application. Portions of our own country
are examples of both these kinds of effects, and that, too, within the
memory of men now living.
We shall follow the usual plan of the division of the subject under the
heads of production, consumption, exchange and distribution.

II. PRODUCTION—LABOR.
1. Production is the creation of value by rendering the utilities of nature
available to man. The creation, it will be noticed, is not of matter but of
value. There are two great agencies which must co-operate in production—
nature and man. Man furnishes labor; nature furnishes materials and forces.
The former would be useless without the latter. There must be soils, and
mines, and trees, and animals, or no matter how much labor there may be,

there can be no grain, nor fruit, nor metals, nor lumber; no houses and no
meat, nor hides nor leather. So also there may be all kinds of material, but
without labor they are of no available service to man.
2. But nature furnishes not only materials but also forces to aid man in
his productive efforts. The more obvious and palpable of these are
gravitation, especially in falling water, wind, the explosive property of
gunpowder and dynamite, the expansive power of steam, magnetism,
electricity, and the forces of vegetation. There are also numerous passive
powers, or properties of matter which, when adapted by man, give him
much advantage; such are the mechanical powers of the lever, inclined
plane, wheel and axle, pulley and wedge, and those qualities of the metals
which render them capable of taking an edge for cutting purposes, as also
malleability, ductility, elasticity, etc. It is a beneficent fact of nature that she
furnishes these materials and forces gratuitously. She is not churlish nor
parsimonious in this respect. The more we avail ourselves of her help, the
more ready she is to help us; and the greater the advantage we obtain, the
more lavishly she bestows her gifts upon us.
It is thus seen that labor consists not in creating things but in moving
them; that is, in effecting changes. It directs the natural forces to the service
of man, and it is in this that production consists. It can move materials into
position where these forces can act upon them with the desired effect. Thus
an agricultural laborer can effect such changes in the soil as are requisite to
the growth of corn; he can place the seed in the ground, but he can not make
the crop. It is as impossible for him to create a kernel of grain as to create a
planet. Labor may move the fuel to the fire-place and properly dispose it for
kindling. It may move a match, which by a previous movement has taken
fire, to the prepared fuel; but all this would be useless but for the conditions
and forces which nature furnishes.
3. The application of labor to production is of two kinds, direct and
indirect. The direct changes effected by labor may be embraced under the
three heads of transmutation, transformation, and transportation. The first
comprises elementary changes, as when under required conditions
ingredients of the soil and of the atmosphere are changed into grain and
vegetables, and fruit. The second is where there is simply a change in the
form of the material, as when boards are made into a table, or leather into

shoes. The third implies merely a change of place, as when coal in a mine,
where it has no value, becomes valuable by being brought within reach of
those who desire it for fuel.
4. The greater part of labor is indirect; in some cases so much so that its
relation to the product is unseen. For instance, the man who makes your
shoes is not the only laborer concerned in that product. Some previous labor
produced the leather, and before that some labor produced the hide from
which the leather was made; some persons made the tools, some the house
or shop, and some provided sustenance for the shoemaker. All these are
conditions, without which no shoes can be made, and all who provide them
furnish a part of the labor on which the product of the shoes depends.
Of this indirect labor there are several kinds. (1) Those who provide the
materials, and there may be many grades of these; (2) those who furnish the
implements and the machinery; (3) those who supply the sustenance and
shelter, and raiment for the laborers; (4) the government agencies for
protecting the workman; (5) organizers and managers of business
enterprises, without whom production would often fall far short of what it
now accomplishes; (6) the labor of raising children who are subsequently to
become laborers; (7) all those engaged in the work of education, by which
men are prepared for the most efficient work—this includes not only
teachers, but writers, clergymen, etc.; (8) professional men, who devote
themselves to matters essential to the interests of the community and thus
not only save the time of the laborers, but often their property and their
health, and their lives; (9) inventors and discoverers, who ascertain new
conditions of more efficient production. These are the principal, though
there are also others.

READINGS IN ART.
I.—SCULPTURE: ITS VARIETIES AND MATERIALS.

All work cut out in a solid material, in imitation of natural objects, is
called sculpture. Thus carvings in wood, ivory-stone, marble, metal, and
works moulded from wax and clay, come under the head of sculpture.
But sculpture, as we are about to consider it, is to be distinguished by the
term statuary from all carved work belonging to ornamental art and
glyptics. It must be borne in mind, however, that the sculptor does not
ordinarily carve his work directly out of the marble; he first makes his
statue, or bas relief, in clay or wax. This method enables him to “sketch in
clay” and perfect his work in this obedient material. Michael Angelo, and
many great masters could dispense with this and carve at once the statue
from the block. The modeling in clay is, however, generally the primary
work. The “model,” as it is called, is afterward moulded, and by means of
this mould a cast of the original clay statue, or bas-relief, is taken by the use
of liquid plaster. The clay model is, therefore, like the original drawing of a
painter—a master work.
The model completed, most of the carving is done by a skilled laborer,
the sculptor taking it up to give the finish, which a master-hand alone can
bestow. The copying of the model into marble is accomplished by means of
a method of mechanical measurement, or “pointing.” The model and the
block of marble are both fastened to a base called a “scale-stone,” to which
a standard vertical rod can be attached at corresponding centers, having at
its upper end a sliding needle, so adapted by a movable joint as to be set at
any angle and fastened by a screw when so set. The master sculptor having
marked the governing points with a pencil on the model the instrument is
applied to these and the measure taken. The standard being then transferred
to the block-base, the pointer, guided by his measure, cuts away the marble,
taking care to leave it rather larger than the model, so that the general
proportions are kept, and the more important work is then left for the master
hand.

The character of work is influenced by the nature of the material in
which the sculptor carves; the harder the stone the more difficult to give it
the pliant forms of life. It is remarkable that the most ancient and perfect
Egyptian statues should have been formed of very hard stones; and, as the
ancient Egyptians were not acquainted with steel, they must have been
dependent upon bronze, of various degrees of hardness, for their cutting
tools. These works are remarkable for their excellence, both of form and
proportion, and in the finish given to the details of feature, the dress, and
the ornaments.
Assyrian sculpture was in softer stones, limestones and alabaster; only
small objects, such as seals, being worked in hard stones.
Greek and Roman sculptors made many statues and bas-reliefs in hard
stones, such as basalt, granite, and porphyry. The extreme difficulty of such
work may be understood when it is seen that the ordinary method of the
chisel and mallet, in the most skillful hands, would be quite unavailing in
this hard material. The treadle-wheel, the drill, and the file, are brought to
aid the chisel, and even these require the use of emery upon the wheel of
the lapidary, in the manner in which the hardest stones are cut.
Clay modeled and dried in the sun, or hardened by the fire, was naturally
one of the early forms in which sculpture was developed. At once ready to
hand, and easily modeled, it was adopted for the same reasons that made
clay convenient for the ordinary vessels of every-day use. We find countless
numbers of these baked, or sun-dried clay figures. They have escaped
destruction because of the little value of the material and because they resist
decay. The Egyptians and Assyrians applied a vitreous glaze to terra-cotta
objects, which made them more decorative and more durable.
Terra-cotta was chosen by many sculptors to preserve the spirit and
freedom of the original. Although some shrinking under the action of the
fire must be allowed for, yet what is well baked is certain to possess the
excellence of the fresh clay. It escapes the chances of over-finish, which too
often befalls marble and bronze.
Another form of sculpture to be noticed is called chryselephantine, on
account of the combined use of gold and ivory; the nude parts of the figure
being of ivory, probably with color applied to the features and the drapery

of gold. The statue was substantially but roughly made in marble, with
wood, perhaps, upon it; the ivory being laid on in thick pieces.
Statues of wood, of various kinds, were made by the most ancient
sculptors. Many small figures in wood, the work of the Egyptian carvers,
are to be seen in the museums, and the mummy cases show the practice of
carving the head, while the trunk is left only partly shaped out of the block.
Bronze was one of the most important forms of ancient statuary. It must
be remembered that bronze is an entirely different alloy from brass, the
former being an alloy of copper and tin, while brass is of copper and zinc.
Small proportions of gold, silver, lead, and iron, were mixed with the
bronze by ancient metal-workers to give various colors to their work; thus a
blush of shame was produced by allowing the iron in the bronze to rust.
Plutarch mentions a face which was pale, the sculptor having mixed silver
with the bronze.
The primitive bronze-workers, before they arrived at the knowledge of
casting, began by hammering solid metals into shapes. The toreutic art,
although not definitely known at present, was probably that of hammering,
punching, and chiseling plates of metal, either separately or with a view of
fixing them upon stone or wood. Both the solid hammered work and the
hollow-plate work is mentioned by the authorities. The hollow statues were
built up in pieces, fastened together with nails, rivets, and dove-tails, and it
is not improbable that some system of welding was practiced.
The casting of metals in moulds must have followed the discovery that
they could be melted. As the sculptor improved in his art of modeling he
would be able to make better moulds. He would soon observe that the solid
statue was not only very costly, but so very heavy that the whole figure
would collapse from sheer weight.
This trouble was corrected by the discovery of a contrivance for casting
metals in a hollow mould. It was done pretty much as it is at the present
day, by fixing within the mould a core, which did not touch the sides,
except at certain small points necessary for support. The space between this
and the surface of the mould was to be filled by the molten metal.

There is still another method, less common in modern times, but
employed by the ancients, for some of their smaller works. This is when a
wax model is encased in clay or plaster of Paris and the molten metal then
poured into it to melt the wax, and take the form of the work precisely as it
left the hand of the sculptor. The original model is thus destroyed and the
bronze takes its place. Some very large and important works have recently
been cast in this method, but with the core. In bronze casting with a core,
this contrivance must be made with great care. The mould, which is obliged
to be formed of pieces fitted together, in order that the model may be taken
out, is first well soaked in oil, then melted wax is applied to the inner side
of the moulded parts in such thickness as may be required in the metal of
the completed statue. But as a hollow metal statue would not be strong
enough to support its own weight, a sort of skeleton of iron bars is made to
take the general form of the figure, and this strong frame-work is firmly
fixed within the mould. We have then the mould, with its wax lining,
enclosing the iron skeleton, or armature, as it is called, with an opening left
in the proper place to allow of pouring in the liquid plaster of Paris mixed
with pounded brick, which fills the space about the armature. Therefore, if
at this stage, the mould were taken to pieces again, the sculptor would
behold his statue as one of apparently solid wax. Practically this is done in
order that he may satisfy himself of the success of his work, and correct it
where necessary. The model is then again placed in the mould preparatory
to casting.
Galvano-plastique, or the use of electricity, to deposit a thin layer of
metal in a pure state upon a model, is an important invention or application
of science to art.
Having described the various materials and methods employed in
sculptured art, we are ready to classify the different forms adopted and
arrange them under the proper terms.
Sculpture in relief is the first division. There are four varieties. Bas-
relief, or basso-relievo, is the term used when the work projects from the
plain surface, the forms being rounded as in nature. If the work is very little
raised, the forms being not so projecting as in nature, it is called flat-relief,
or stiacciato. If more raised, but not free from the ground in any place, it is
half-relief or mezzo-relievo. If the relief is still higher it becomes full-relief,

or alto-relievo, in which parts of the human figure are entirely free from the
ground of the slab. In sunk-relief, or cavo-relievo, the work is recessed
within an outline, but still raised in flat relief, not projecting above the
surface of the slab. Much of the renaissance and modern sculpture
combines the first-named kinds of work on different planes in degrees of
distance, with some under-cutting. The beauty and character of bas-relief
depend much upon the representation of outline.
Statuary proper is sculpture in the round. The statue is therefore seen on
every side.
Statues are, (1) standing; (2) seated; (3) recumbent; (4) equestrian.
Statues are classed into five forms as to size: Colossal, above the heroic
standard; heroic, above six feet but under the colossal; life-size; small life-
size; statuettes, half the size of life and smaller.
To know the proper proportions of the figures is a matter of the utmost
value in all sculpture, even more so than in painting, as the statue is
measurable on every side and in every direction. It would have been
impossible for the ancient Egyptians to carve out of the living rock their
tremendous figures unless they had arrived at a rule of proportion for their
figure. Without this their colossi would have been only rude monsters. Such
a rule they had discovered and laid down in a canon, as it is called, similar
to that which was followed by the Greek sculptors after them, and
especially made known by Polycletus, whose name it received. Though
there is some doubt about the precise terms of the canon, there can be no
doubt that it had for its unit of measurement some part of the human figure.
The version of Vitruvius Pollio is supposed to be the correct one. He says:
“Nature has so composed the human body that the face, from the chin to the
top of the forehead, and the roots of the hair, should be a tenth part; also the
palm of the hand from the wrist-joint to the tip of the middle finger; the
head from the chin to the highest point, an eighth; from the top of the chest
to the roots of the hair, a sixth.”
The rule of ten faces, or eight heads, derived from this, has remained to
the present time. Several sculptors of a later period, who have given much
attention to the subject of proportion, differ slightly from the canon of
Polycletus, though it is commonly accepted.

That strict rules of symmetrical proportion should be followed is
necessary in all statuary, but especially in that which serves as a decoration
for architecture. The knowledge of the figure acquired by eminent sculptors
inspired them with admiration for the beautiful, and enabled them to
express in the creation of their art an ideal of grand beauty, which was
guided by a taste and feeling which rarely failed to direct them aright. It
was the greatest sculptor of modern times, Michael Angelo, who said that
the sculptor should carry “his compasses in his eye.” Some one comments
on this that, “Sculptors, and painters especially, dread the rule of geometry.
They regard rule as a fetter upon their invention, not dreaming that this
great man (Michael Angelo), before he expressed himself thus, had for so
long a time had the compasses in his hand.” This points to a profound truth
in all practical art, that no man can be a great artist unless he have the
power of drawing in the true proportions of the beautiful.
Having pointed out the leading points in the technic of sculpture, we
take up its history, beginning naturally with the earliest forms as found in
Egypt.
The Egyptians, inhabiting a flat, uniform country, of pure and salubrious
climate, working as sculptors before a written language was invented,
carved their colossal sphinx almost entirely out of the living rock; an
amazing example of symbolic sculptural representation, combining the
human with the brute form of the lion. The date of this first great work is
probably earlier than that of the earliest pyramids—that built by Chofo,
King of Memphis, the Cheops of Herodotus, and the larger one by Nef
Chofo, his son. M. Renan, speaking for M. Mariette, states that a tablet was
found by him recording that Nef Chofo did certain repairs to the sphinx; so
that since it required repairs, it must already have existed for a considerable
time. All small barbaric or archaic work of the ancient Egyptians in
sculpture has perished in the vast lapse of time. But this one monument,
raised at least 4,000 years before the Christian era, stands to prove, with its
companion pyramids, the wonderful power of conception, the energy and
practical skill which characterized the early Egyptians. What they lacked in
ideas of beauty, they made up for by the simple grandeur in the colossal size
and perfection in execution.

The intention of producing a monument to last forever was shown in an
equally striking manner in the construction of the pyramids, and with an
exercise of science and skill even more remarkable.
Egyptian art, in the form of architecture, was, after the pyramids of
Ghizeh, further developed about 1650 B. C., under Osirtesen I., who built
the oldest of the temples at Thebes. Columns and obelisks were then
invented, and the cavi relievi were largely used. Statuary, however, did not
advance until after the Phœnician Shepherd Kings—a body of wandering
Arabs, so called, who conquered Upper Egypt for a time—were driven out
by Amosis, King of Thebes, about 1450 B. C.
Passing over Amunothph I. and his successor Thothmosis I., of whom
there is a fine statue in the Turin Museum, we come to Thothmosis II.,
whose reign marks a period of vast development, as he married Nitocris, the
last Queen of Memphis, capital of Lower Egypt, and thus united the two
kingdoms, about 1340 B. C. The great avenue of sphinxes, leading to the
temple of Karnak, was made in her reign, and there is a statue of
Thothmosis II., a seated figure seven feet nine inches high, in good
proportions, of about seven heads high, the fingers and toes straight, not
showing the knuckles, and the legs sharply chiseled at the shins, not
showing the small bone on the outside of the leg, as in the statues of the
later time of Amunothph III. (about 1260 B. C.).
The famous colossus, called the musical Memnon, one of the two still
standing in the desert near Thebes, more than fifty feet high, is of this
period. These statues are not in good proportion, being too short in the
waist. The two fine lions, carved in red granite, belonging to this time,
which Lord Prudhoe brought over and presented to the British Museum, are
remarkable as examples of fine typical treatment of the lion. They show
much grandeur of feeling, and, compared with the modern naturalistic
sculpture of lions, they are superior as examples of monumental art.
In 1170 B. C. reigned Ramses II., the greatest of the Egyptian kings,
under whom was invented all the wonderful adaptation of the lotus and
papyrus plant to the design of columns, as seen in the famous colonnade of
the hall of Karnak. His statue, in the Turin Museum, is in the finest style of
ancient Theban art; it is a seated figure carved out of a block of black

granite, and is not colossal, being only five feet seven inches high. The
point to be noticed in this statue is the effort at action, which is not seen in
earlier works. The right hand is raised to the breast holding the short sort of
crosier of the god Osiris; the left hand resting on the knee, strongly
clenched. The colossal statue of Ramses, as Osiris, may be taken as
examples, with that of the Memnon, in the British Museum, of the sculpture
of this time. The large sphinx in the Louvre bears the name of Ramses II.
The four-seated colossi, carved out of the living rock at the entrance of the
great temple of Abou Simbel in Ethiopia, represent the same king. They are
between sixty and seventy feet high, and wonderfully well sculptured, but
the proportions are not so good as in some smaller statues, as they are six
heads only in height, and short in the waist and thick in the limbs, showing
no attempt at any close or correct imitation of nature. They look straight
before them with a calm smile of confident power and contentment. These
statues, and others which are to be seen in the museums, are not equal to
those of the time of Amunothph III., previously referred to; they are not so
well carved, and the features are heavy, with thick noses and lips, while the
limbs are clumsy, and without any attempt at accurate modeling.
It will be observed, therefore, that Egyptian sculpture may be classed
broadly into three styles. (1) the Egyptian proper, reaching its finest period
in the reign of Amunothph III.; (2) the Ethiopic Egyptian; (3) the later
Egyptian, leading to the decline of that style of sculpture. Of the first it
should be noticed that the general proportions of the figure were more
accurately considered than the relative proportions of hands and feet to the
limbs, which are generally incorrect. There are, however, some examples of
excellent proportion, as in a colossal arm and fist in the British Museum.
This arm belonged to a statue of Thothmes III., and came from Memphis. It
is about ten feet long. The fist also came from Memphis, and measures four
feet across. The heads of statues of this period are of the pure Coptic type,
with a nose somewhat aquiline, and the lips comparatively thin. The eyes,
however, were always carved in full in profile representations; the feet, one
in advance of the other on the same plane. The details of form at the
knuckles and legs are well indicated.
In the Ethiopic-Egyptian statues, general proportion is lost sight of; the
figures become dumpy, being only six heads high; the limbs are clumsy and
wanting in modeling; the hands and feet stiff and not marked by details at

the joints; nor do they show the small bone of the leg. The heads are more
of the Negro type, with turned-up noses and thick lips.
In the later Egyptian it is remarkable that with more attempt to imitate
nature in the modeling of the muscles, the forms of the trunk and limbs
become unnaturally puffed. More is added in symbolic attributes; heads of
the cat, the hawk, and the ape, are placed on the human body; the dress is
more elaborate, that of the head especially, on which a disc for the sun was
often placed, as on the god Osiris. From the fall of Thebes, about 1000 B.
C., to the conquest of Egypt by the Persians, 523 B. C., sculpture became
more and more degraded, and soon lost its original style of simplicity and
grandeur of form.
After some two centuries of rule, the Persians were conquered by
Alexander the Great, 332 B. C., but there are no statues of Greek style of
this date found in Egypt; under the Ptolemies, his successors for 300 years,
new temples of inferior but still Egyptian style were built, such as those at
Phile, Edfou, and Denderah, and many statues were made, but nearly all
have been destroyed, and there is not one of any king or queen of the
Ptolemies.
After Egypt became a Roman province, in 38 B. C., Egyptian sculpture,
in a debased form, was still continued upon the decoration of the temples,
but the statues were then in the hands of Greek artists. Still later, there is the
well-known statue of Antinous as an Egyptian, the work of a Greek sculptor
of the time of the Emperor Hadrian (A. D. 117-138).
Assyrian sculpture is a discovery of recent times, first made in 1842-3
by Botta, the French consul at Mosul on the banks of the Tigris, and almost
simultaneously by Mr. Layard, who though he had seen the ruins of
Nineveh in 1840 did not get permission to examine and excavate till 1845.
The sculptures differ widely from any in Egypt in being nearly all in bas-
relief and high relief. There are very few statues, carved in the round, that
stand either with a support practically or on the legs. There are no colossi
nearly approaching in size the Egyptian and Greek colossal statues, none
being higher than eighteen feet, while as we have seen sixty feet was a
moderate height for an Egyptian or Greek colossal figure, and some were
higher. The colossal human-headed bulls and lions with wings, at the

portals of the king’s palace, are in high relief on huge slabs, one on each
side, facing outwards, and one on each side on the wall, with the head
turned to look to the front. It does not appear that any principal figure was
set up in an interior, either of these compound animals, or of any deity or
king. No colossal seated figures like the Egyptian statues have been found.
The standing figures carved in relief differ entirely in the expression of the
countenance and motive of the figure from the Egyptian. They have all
some action; the king grasps a captured lion, or as chief priest he walks with
his staff which he holds firmly, while the left hand rests on the hilt of his
sword. It is true that the legs are on one plane, and the feet in a position that
could not support the body; still the intention to show action and life is
there. There is none of the desire to express majestic, calm, eternal repose
and content which is so characteristic of Egyptian sculptured statues.
Throughout the great number of slabs in the British Museum and in the
Louvre there is a very vigorous descriptive power displayed in carving
figures of men, horses, chariots, battles, sieges of cities, hunting scenes,
processions, rivers with men swimming on inflated skins, with fish and
boats; implements, weapons, chairs, baskets, trees, birds, buildings, with a
close resemblance to the real objects that is very distinctive of the Assyrian
style. The quadrupeds and birds are much better done than the human
figures; the character of some of the mules is faithfully given, and there is
much feeling for nature in some of the lions in the hunting-scenes. There is
no doubt, also, that this naturalistic realism was carried further by painting
the sculptures. In none of these painted reliefs, however, is there anything of
the careful carving and delicate delineation of the Egyptian cavi relievi;
they are all boldly done, and with a good deal of skill, but by hands that
would seem to have been self-taught, and at liberty to represent as they
pleased so that the conventional attributes and symbolic objects were duly
made clear. There is scarcely any regulated use of typical forms; and in the
proportions of the figures especially there is no rule. The principal figures
are about 6½ heads high, and in others the heads are often larger, while the
arms and legs are out of all proportion gigantic, the muscles being
exaggerated into masses at the calf and knee, and the shin-bone absurdly
prominent. All truth seems to have been sacrificed for the sake of conveying
a violent look of immense strength. The battle scenes remind us of some of
the puerile representations by mediæval workmen of a poor style, or the
debased Roman work seen on sarcophaguses. The Assyrians, unlike the

Egyptians, were “mighty hunters,” consequently horses were favorites with
the Assyrian carvers, as they were with the Greek sculptors afterwards; they
seldom have more than one fore-leg and one hind one, but their heads are
carefully carved, and all the trappings show the same intention to obtain
exact resemblance as is displayed in the dress and ornaments of the kings
and other figures. It is important to observe that these sculptures are very
equal in merit; there is no sign of improvement and little of falling off. As to
the date of these sculptures, they are much later than all the Egyptian work
of the finer style.
It may be concluded that the Assyrian palaces, with their sculptured
walls, took a much shorter time to build than the Egyptian, as they were
built of sun-baked bricks, with ornamental slabs below, and wooden beams
and columns above, all which structures have perished leaving only the
stone slabs. The soft nature of the stone, which is a kind of grey alabaster,
extremely suited to carving in the manner employed, afforded the facility
that influenced the style and enabled the carvers to indulge their inclination
for realistic detail. They do not appear to have sought for fine colored hard
stones as the Egyptians did, nor do they show the same desire to make their
work monumental and enduring.
Assyrian sculpture was always archaic, though at the same time more
vigorous in what might be called graphic sculpture, and truer in imitation of
nature than Egyptian, which rarely attempted action in the figure or facial
expression. There is, however, no alliance between the two styles, and there
was never likely to be, as the Assyrians were not a people of poetic and
abstract ideas, but of facts, circumstances, and action. They thought of the
present glory, and did not trouble themselves about the future. The same
characteristics will partly account for the absence of any kind of reference
to a future state. The tree of life with the priest ministering before it and
holding fruit is to be seen; but it is remarkable that no sepulchral
monuments have been found; no tomb or mark of regard in any shape for
the welfare of the dead hereafter has been discovered.
Bearing in mind that the Assyrians were never a statue-making people,
and never attempted to follow the example of the Egyptians—do we find
them influencing the sculptural art of any other people in work like that of
the Assyrians? This question is answered at once by the remains found at

Persepolis, where there are to be seen similar winged and human-headed
lions and bulls, and sculptured slabs, but no statues either in the round or in
alto-relievo.
The ruins of the palaces of Cambyses, Darius, and Xerxes, the date of
which is from 560 B. C. to the conquests of Alexander the Great (331 B.
C.), show only sculptural remains left, after all the soft brick walls and the
wooden beams and rafters have long perished. Persian sculptural art since
those days never advanced to the dignity of statuary, but like its Assyrian
predecessor stopped short where Greek art began to develop. The same is to
be observed of that ramification of the Assyrian arts which is to be traced in
the building of the temple of Jerusalem under Solomon, which, however,
was some five centuries before the time of Cambyses, and about the same
length of time after the settling of the Israelites in the Delta of the Nile
(1550 B. C.). The law of Moses was sufficient to prevent any sculpture in the
likeness of living things; but the cherubim, with their wings, seem to have
been borrowed from the Assyrians. The temple was, no doubt, built of stone
and cedar-wood after the manner of the Assyrians, and with a profusion of
ornament in carving, of valuable marbles, wood, and embossed work in
precious metals.
The colossal sculptures in the rock-cut temples of India, whether taken
as derived from the Assyrian centre or not, may be classed with that style as
semi-barbaric and naturalistic, with a superadded symbolism which only led
to the most extravagant deformities of the human figure to express the
power and attributes of a deity. Statuary proper never existed in any shape
of beauty like the human form, throughout Persia, India, and China, and
there is no sign of any disposition amongst the Asiatics to learn the art from
their European conquerors; it is not in their nature.

SELECTIONS FROM AMERICAN
LITERATURE.

MODERN STATE OF ANCIENT COUNTRIES.

By GEORGE SANDYS.

The parts I speak of are the most renowned countries and kingdoms;
once the seats of most glorious and triumphant empires; the theaters of
valor and heroical actions; the soils enriched with all earthly felicities; the
places where Nature hath produced her wonderful works; where arts and
sciences have been invented and perfected; where wisdom, virtue, policy,
and civility, have been planted, have flourished; and, lastly, where God
himself did place his own commonwealth, gave laws and oracles, inspired
his prophets, sent angels to converse with men; above all, where the Son of
God descended to become man; where he honored the earth with his
beautiful steps, wrought the works of our redemption, triumphed over
death, and ascended into glory; which countries, once so glorious and
famous for their happy estate, are now, through vice and ingratitude,
become the most deplored spectacles of extreme misery; the wild beasts of
mankind having broken in upon them, and rooted out all civility, and the
pride of a stern and barbarous tyrant possessing the thrones of ancient and
just dominion. Who, aiming only at the height of greatness and sensuality,
hath in tract of time reduced so great and goodly a part of the world to that
lamentable distress and servitude, under which (to the astonishment of the
understanding beholders) it now faints and groaneth. Those rich lands at
this present remain waste and overgrown with bushes, receptacles of wild
beasts, of thieves, and murderers; large territories dispeopled or thinly
inhabited; goodly cities made desolate; sumptuous buildings become ruins;
glorious temples either subverted or prostituted to impiety; true religion
discountenanced and oppressed; all nobility extinguished; no light of
learning permitted, nor virtue cherished; violence and rapine insulting over
all, and leaving no security except to an abject mind, and unlooked-on
poverty; which calamities of theirs, so great and deserved, are to the rest of
the world as threatening instructions. For assistance wherein, I have not
only related what I saw of their present condition, but, so far as convenience
might permit, presented a brief view of the former estates and first
antiquities of those peoples and countries; thence to draw a right image of

the frailty of man, the mutability of whatever is worldly, and assurance that,
as there is nothing unchangeable saving God, so nothing stable but by his
grace and protection.

THE DESIGN OF THE NEW ENGLAND PLANTATIONS.

By the Rev. COTTON MATHER.

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

REMARKS ON THE CATALOGUE OF PLANTATIONS.
(1) There are few towns to be now seen on our list but what were
existing in this land before the dreadful Indian war which befell us twenty
years ago; and there are few towns broken up within the then Massachusetts
line by that war but what have revived out of their ashes. Nevertheless the

many calamities which have ever since been wasting the country have so
nip the growth of it, that its later progress hath held no proportion with what
was from the beginning; but yet with such variety, that while the trained
companies of some towns are no bigger than they were thirty or forty years
ago, others are as big again.
(2) The calamities that have carried off the inhabitants of our several
towns have not been all of one sort. Pestilential sicknesses have made
fearful havoc in divers places, where the sound have not perhaps been
enough to tend the sick, while others have not had one touch from the Angel
of Death, and the sword hath cut off scores in sundry places, when others, it
may be, have not lost a single man by that avenger.
(3) ’Tis no unusual, though no universal experiment, among us, that
while an excellent, laborious, illuminating ministry has been continued in a
town, the place has thriven to admiration; but ever since that man’s time
they have gone down the wind in all their interests. The gospel has
evidently been the making of all our towns, and the blessings of the Upper
have been accompanied with the blessings of the Nether Springs.
Memorable also is the remark of Slingsby Beibel, Esq., in his most
judicious “Book of the Interests of Europe:” “Were not the cold climate of
New England supplied by good laws and discipline, the barrenness of the
country would never have brought people to it, nor have advanced it in
consideration and formidableness above the other English plantations
exceeding it much in fertility and other inviting qualities.”
(4) Well may New England lay claim to the name it wears, and to a room
in the tenderest affections of its mother, the happy island. For as there are
few of our towns but what have their namesakes in England, so the reason
why most of our towns are called what they are, is because the chief of the
first inhabitants would thus bear up the names of the particular places there
from whence they came.
(5) I have heard an aged saint, near his death, thus cheerfully express
himself: “Well, I am going to heaven, and I will there tell the faithful who
are gone long since from New England thither, that though they who
gathered in our churches are all dead and gone, yet the churches are still
alive, with as numerous flocks of Christians as were ever among them.”

Concerning most of the churches in our catalogue, the report thus carried
unto heaven, I must now also send through the earth; but if with “as
numerous,” we could in every respect say as gracious, what joy to all the
saints, both in heaven and on earth, might be from thence occasioned.—
Magnalia Christi Americana.

EXTRACTS FROM “ESSAYS TO DO GOOD.”

By the Rev. COTTON MATHER.
To take a poor child, especially an orphan left in poverty, and bestow a
liberal education on it, is an admirable charity, yea, it may draw after it a
long train of good, and may interest you in all the good done by him whom
you have educated. Hence, also, what is done for schools, for colleges, and
for hospitals is done for the general good. The endowment and maintenance
of these is at once to do good to many.
But alas, how much of the silver and the gold is buried in hands where it
is little better than if conveyed back to the mines whence it came. How
much of it is employed to as little purpose as what arrives at Hindoostan,
where a great part of it, after some circulation, is by the Moguls lodged in
subterraneous caves never to see the light again. The Christian whose faith
and hope are genuine, acts not thus.
Sometimes elaborate compositions may be prepared for the press, works
of great bulk, and of greater worth, by which the best interests of
knowledge and virtue might be considerably promoted, but they lie, like the
impotent man at the pool of Bethesda, in silent neglect, and are likely to
continue in that state, till God inspires some wealthy persons nobly to
subscribe to their publication, and by this generous application of their
property to bring them abroad. The names of such noble benefactors to
mankind ought to live as long as the works themselves live; and when the
works do any good, what these have done towards the publishing of them,
ought to be “told for a memorial of them.” He urges gentlemen of leisure to
seek “some honorable and agreeable employments,” and says, “I will
mention one: The Pythagoreans forbade men’s eating their own brains, or
keeping their good thoughts to themselves.” The incomparable Boyle
observes that as to religious books in general, “those that have been written
by laymen, and especially by gentlemen, have (cæteris paribus) been better
received and more effectual than those published by clergymen.” Mr.
Boyle’s were certainly so. Men of quality have frequently attained such
accomplishments in languages and science that they become prodigies of
literature. Their libraries also have stupendous collections approaching

toward Vatican or Bodleian dimensions. It were much to be wished that
persons of wealth and station would qualify themselves for the use of the
pen, as well as of the sword, and deserve this eulogium: “They have written
excellent things.” An English person of quality in his treatise entitled “A
view of the soul,” has the following passage: “It is certainly the highest
dignity, if not the greatest happiness of which human nature is capable in
the vale below, to have the soul so far enlightened as to become a mirror,
conduit or conveyor of God’s truth to others.” It is a bad motto for a man of
capacity to say, “My understanding is unfruitful.” Gentlemen, consider
what subjects may most properly and usefully fall under your cultivation.
Your pens may stab atheism and vice more effectually than other men’s can.
If out of your tribe there come those who handle the pen of the writer, they
will do uncommon execution. One of them has ingenuously said, “Though I
know of some functions, yet I know no truths of religion that like the shew-
bread belong to the priests alone.” * * *
To do good is a sure and pleasant way effectually to bespeak God’s
blessings on ourselves. Who so likely to find blessings as the men who are
blessings? While we work for God, he certainly will work for us, and ours
—will do for us more than we have done for him; “more than we can ask or
think.” A good action is its own reward.
But what shall be done for the good man in the heavenly world? His part
and work in the city of God are at present incomprehensible to us, but the
kindness which his God will show him in the strong city will be truly
marvelous. The attempts which the Christian has made to fill this world
with righteous things, are so many tokens for good to him, that he shall
have a portion in that world wherein shall dwell nothing but righteousness.
He will be welcomed with “Well done, good and faithful servant.”
I will conclude with a declaration which I will boldly maintain. It is this:
Were a man able to write in seven languages, could he daily converse with
all the sweets of the liberal sciences to which the most accomplished make
pretensions; were he to entertain himself with all ancient and modern
history; and could he feast continually on the curiosities which the different
branches of learning may discover to him, all this would not afford the
ravishing satisfaction which he might find in relieving the distresses of a
poor, miserable neighbor, nor would it bear any comparison with the

heartfelt delight which he might have by doing service to the kingdom of
our great Savior in the world.

SPIRITUAL KNOWLEDGE.
By JONATHAN EDWARDS.
There is a kind of taste of the mind, whereby persons are guided in their
judgment of the natural beauty, gracefulness, propriety, nobleness, and
sublimity of speeches and action, whereby they judge, as it were, by the
glance of the eye, or by inward sensation, and the first impression of the
object; so there is likewise such a thing as a divine taste, given and
maintained by the Spirit of God, in the hearts of the saints, whereby they
are in like manner led and guided in discerning and distinguishing the true
spiritual and holy beauty of actions; and that more easily, readily, and
accurately, as they have more or less of the Spirit of God dwelling in them.
And thus “the sons of God are led by the Spirit of God, in their behavior in
the world.”
A holy disposition and spiritual taste, where grace is strong and lively,
will enable a soul to determine what actions are right and becoming
Christians, not only more speedily, but far more exactly, than the greatest
abilities without it. This may be illustrated by the manner in which some
habits of mind, and dispositions of heart, of a nature inferior to true grace,
will teach and guide a man in his actions. As for instance, if a man be a very
good natured man, his good nature will teach him how to act benevolently
amongst mankind, and will direct him, on every occasion, to those speeches
and actions which are agreeable to rules of goodness, than the strongest
reason will a man of a morose temper. So if a man’s heart be under the
influence of an entire friendship, and most endeared affection to another,
though he be a man of an indifferent capacity, yet this habit of his mind will
direct him, far more readily and exactly, to a speech and deportment, or
manner of behavior, which shall in all respects be sweet and kind, and
agreeable to a benevolent disposition of heart, than the greatest capacity
without it. He has, as it were, a spirit within him, that guides him; the habit
of his mind is attended with a taste by which he immediately relishes that
air and mien which is benevolent, and disrelishes the contrary, and causes
him to distinguish between one and the other in a moment, more precisely,

than the most accurate reasonings can find out in many hours. As the nature
and inward tendency of a stone, or other heavy body, that is let fall from
aloft, shows the way to the center of the earth more exactly in an instant
than the ablest mathematician, without it, could determine, by his most
accurate observations, in a whole day. Thus it is that a spiritual disposition
and taste teaches and guides a man in his behavior in the world. So an
eminently humble, or meek, or charitable disposition, will direct a person of
mean capacity to such a behavior, as is agreeable to Christian rules of
humility, meekness and charity, far more readily and precisely than the most
diligent study and elaborate reasonings of a man of the strongest faculties,
who has not a Christian spirit within him. So also will a spirit of love to
God, and holy fear and reverence toward God, and filial confidence in God,
and an heavenly disposition, teach and guide a man in his behavior.
It is an exceedingly difficult thing for a wicked man, destitute of
Christian principles in his heart to guide him, to know how to demean
himself like a Christian, with the life and beauty, and heavenly sweetness of
a truly holy, humble, Christ-like behavior. He knows not how to put on
these garments; neither do they fit him.
The saints in thus judging of actions by a spiritual taste, have not a
particular recourse to express rules of God’s word, with respect to every
word and action that is before them, the good or evil of which they thus
judge: But yet their taste itself, in general, is subject to the rule of God’s
word, and must be tried by that, and a right reasoning upon it. As a man of a
rectified palate judges of particular morsels by his taste; but yet his palate
itself must be judged of, whether it be right or no, by certain rules and
reasons. But a spiritual taste of soul mightily helps the soul in its reasonings
on the word of God, and in judging the true meaning of its rules: As it
removes the prejudices of a depraved appetite, and naturally leads the
thoughts in the right channel, casts a light on the word of God, and causes
the true meaning, most naturally, to come to mind, through the harmony
there is between the disposition and relish of a sanctified soul, and the true
meaning of the rules of God’s word. Yea, this harmony tends to bring the
texts themselves to mind, on proper occasions; as the particular state of the
stomach and palate tends to bring particular meats and drinks to mind, as
are agreeable to that state. “Thus the children of God are led by the Spirit of
God” in judging of actions themselves, and in their meditations upon, and

judging of, and applying the rules of God’s holy word: And so God “teaches
them his statutes and causes them to understand the way of his precepts;”
which the Psalmist so often prays for.
But this leading of the spirit is a thing exceedingly diverse from that
which some call so; which consists not in teaching them God’s statutes and
precepts, that he has already given; but in giving them new precepts by
immediate inward speech or suggestion, and has in it no tasting the true
excellency of things, or judging or discerning the nature of things at all.
They do not determine what is the will of God by any taste or relish, or any
manner of judging of the nature of things, but by an immediate dictate
concerning the thing to be done; there is no such thing as judgment or
wisdom in the case. Whereas, in that leading of the spirit which is peculiar
to God’s children, is imparted that true wisdom and holy discretion, so often
spoken of in the word of God; which is high above the other way, as the
stars are higher than a glow worm; and that which Balaam and Saul (who
sometimes were led by the spirit in that other way) never had, and no
natural man can have without a change of nature.
[End of Required Reading for October, 1883.]

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

Nothing is so dangerous as an ignorant friend; a wise enemy is
worth much more.—La Fontaine.

WHERE LIES THE MUSIC?

By ALICE C. JENNINGS.

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

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

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

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

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

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

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

By WALLACE BRUCE.

When Walter Scott, one morning before breakfast, while looking for
fishing-tackle, came upon his long neglected manuscript of Waverley, and
decided to publish it, he baited his hook, so to speak, with a plump literary
angle-worm, and carefully concealing himself, dropped it cautiously into
one of the quiet and almost stagnant pools which here and there break the
flow of the eighteenth century.
Not to carry the figure further he wakes up one morning to find the
“Author of Waverley” famous; but no one knew who the “Author of
Waverley” was. Romances, relating alike to the history of Scotland,
England, France, Switzerland and Palestine, covering a wide range of life
and character, with a varied record of eight hundred years, followed each
other so rapidly that the reading world opened its eyes in wonder, until the
“great unknown” was finally regarded the “great magician.” His books, as
they came wet from the press, were literally devoured by the story-loving
people of England and Scotland; and packages, shipped across the Atlantic,
were regarded the most valuable part of the cargo. I have heard elderly
people of New England speak of anxiously waiting for the next ship which
was to bring to their hands a new novel by the “Author of Waverley.” Never
before had the pen of any man awakened such responsive interest in his
own generation. The publication of Waverley marked a new era in romantic
literature.
During the eighty years that have followed that publication mankind has
had its hopes, longings, ambitions and jealousies mirrored in works of
fiction. Hundreds, ay, thousands of novels—most of them unworthy of their
high lineage—have contended with each other for the world’s approbation;
writers without number have flooded the century with romance; but through
all these years Walter Scott stands the acknowledged master, the purest-

hearted, the noblest-minded of them all; the man who could say upon his
death-bed: “I have not written one line which I would wish blotted.”
No words of re-invitation are necessary to those who have once read the
pages of Sir Walter, but it will be a “consummation devoutly to be wished”
if I can turn the coming generation of your readers away from the sickly
sentiment of the day to the works of him, whose influence, like that of King
Arthur of the Round Table, inspires the soul with
“High thoughts and amiable words,
And courtliness, and the desire of fame,
And love of truth, and all that makes a man.”
Some years ago, while preparing a lecture on “The Landmarks of Scott,”
I found myself confronted with twenty-six novels and five well-known
poems, besides innumerable essays and histories, all demanding at least a
passing word. I saw that two minutes devoted to each would more than fill
my lecture hour, and leave no room for the frame-work, viz: Loch Katrine,
Loch Lomond, the Trosachs, Melrose, Edinboro, the Yarrow, the Ettrick, the
Tweed, and the Border Country, where the Percy and the Douglas fought. It
then occurred to me that Scott had unconsciously prepared a panoramic
history of Europe from the time of the Crusades to the year 1812. Acting
upon this suggestion I examined the novels and poems and found to my
great delight, that with here and there an absent link of fifty or a hundred
years the chain was almost perfect. I condensed the prominent features of
eight hundred years, tracing their connection with Scott’s graphic pictures
into a pen-sketch of ten minutes, and I have been gratified to see that this
idea of chronological order has been recently followed by one of the
leading New York publishers. It is my object in a series of articles to
elaborate this historical sequence from the time of “Count Robert of Paris”
(1094) down to “St. Ronan’s Well” (1812), and to point out in passing some
of the beauties of the great author.
If the reader of these articles will follow with me the romances to which
I refer, I think he will say, at the close of the series, that he has found in the
Waverley Novels a vivid picture of the events and customs of Europe, from
the days of the crusades down to a time within the memory of men still
living. M. Augustin Thierry, one of the most philosophical essayists of

France, has eloquently said: “There are scenes of such simplicity, of such
living truth, to be found, that notwithstanding the distance of the period in
which the author places himself, they can be realized without effort. It is
because in the midst of the world which no longer exists, Walter Scott
always places the world which does, and always will exist; that is to say,
human nature, of which he knows all the secrets. Everything peculiar to the
time and place, the exterior of men, and aspect of the country and of the
habitations, costumes and manners, are described with the most minute
truthfulness; and yet the immense erudition, which has furnished so many
details, is nowhere to be perceived. Walter Scott seems to have for the past
that second sight, which, in times of ignorance, men attributed to
themselves for the future. To say that there is more real history in his novels
on Scotland and England than in the philosophically false compilations,
which still possess that great name, is not advancing anything strange in the
eyes of those who have read and understood “Old Mortality,” “Waverley,”
“Rob Roy,” the ”Fortunes of Nigel,” and the “Heart of Mid Lothian.”
Allison says in his essay on Chateaubriand, published in Blackwood’s
Magazine, March, 1832: “We feel in Scott’s characters that it is not
romance, but real life which is represented. Every word that is said,
especially in the Scotch novels, is nature itself. Homer, Cervantes,
Shakspere, and Scott, alone have penetrated to the deep substratum of
character, which, however disguised by the varieties of climate and
government, is at bottom everywhere the same; and thence they have found
a responsive echo in every human heart. He has carried romance out of the
region of imagination and sensibility into the walks of actual life. He has
combined historical accuracy and romantic adventure with the interest of
tragic events; we live with the heroes, and princes, and paladins of former
times, as with our own contemporaries; and acquire from the splendid
coloring of his pencil such a vivid conception of the manners and pomp of
the feudal ages, that we confound them, in our recollections, with the scenes
which we ourselves have witnessed. The splendor of their tournaments, the
magnificence of their dress, the glancing of their arms, their haughty
manners, daring courage, and knightly courtesy; the shock of their battle-
steeds, the splintering of their lances, the conflagration of their castles, are
brought before our eyes in such vivid colors, that we are at once transported

to the age of Richard and Saladin, of Charles the Bold and Philip
Augustus.”
The four novels, which deal with the history of the Crusades, are “Count
Robert of Paris,” “The Betrothed,” “The Talisman,” and “Ivanhoe.” It is a
singular fact that the one occupying the first place in chronological order
was written last, and hardly completed by the author when he died.
“Ivanhoe” is, without doubt, the great favorite. I have often thought that
“Ivanhoe” bears the same relation to Scott’s novels that “The Merchant of
Venice” does to the dramas of Shakspere. “Old Mortality,” and “Hamlet,”
may show deeper insight; but neither Scott nor Shakspere ever surpassed
the two I have associated in dramatic interest. The three novels which
precede “Ivanhoe” in point of time will give us a complete knowledge of
the times and manners of the Crusades, and lead us, as it were, from one
picture-gallery to another, until we come to the master-piece of the great
artist.
“Count Robert of Paris” opens with a description of the court of Alexius
Commenus—a wily monarch, who had ample need of all his strategy in
dealing with foes that menaced him from every side: the Franks from the
west, the Turks from the east, the Scythians from the north, the Saracens
from the south. The wealthy city on the Bosphorous, enriched by the spoils
of nations, whose golden gate symbolized the wealth and magnificence of
seven hundred years of prosperity, was on the great highway of travel,
where, so to speak, the “cross-roads” of Europe met, and presented a
tempting prize to the restless and barbarous hordes from the shores of the
Caspian to the German Ocean. “The superb successor of the earth’s
mistress,” decked in borrowed splendor, gave early intimations of that
speedy decay to which the whole civilized world, then limited within the
Roman Empire, was internally and imperceptibly tending. Intrigue and
corruption in the palace had compelled the Greek sovereigns of
Constantinople, for many years, to procure foreign soldiers to quell
insurrections and defend any traitorous attempt on the imperial person.
These were known as Verangians—a word signifying barbarians—and
formed a corps of satellites more distinguished for valor than the famed
Prætorian Bands of Rome.

The second chapter of the book reveals the hatred and jealousy existing
between these foreign soldiers and the crafty civilians. The Verangian, to
whom the reader is introduced, is an Anglo-Saxon too proud to bow his
head to a Norman conqueror, a wanderer from his father-land, a soldier in
search of better fortune, soon to discover by lucky chance among the
crusaders the fair Bertha of his early love. Upon this slender thread the
novelist hangs the romantic elements of the story. But Count Robert of Paris
is in no sense a love drama; in fact it can hardly be termed a romance. It is
rather a historic sketch, placing in sharp contrast the wild enthusiasm of
western Europe, her castles of rude masonry, her mud hovels, her rude
simplicity, with the over-refined manners and tapestried chambers of the
eastern court hastening to its decay. It is living Europe confronting the dead
centuries.
The third chapter introduces us to a richly furnished drawing room,
where the Princess Anna Commena—the first lady historian—sits reading
to a sleepy group her prolix history of the glory of her father’s reign. At this
gathering Scott brings together with great art all the leading actors of the
drama; the Emperor Alexius and his wife Irene; Nicepherous Briennius, the
intriguing son-in-law, husband of the fair historian; the crafty philosopher
Agelastes; Achilles Tatius, master of the guards, and the faithful Verangian.
This is the real commencement of the story, and to this gathering the news
is announced of another body of the great Crusade, consisting not of the
ignorant or of the fanatical like those led on by Peter the Hermit, but an
army of lords and nobles marshaled by kings and emperors. Against this
mass of steel-clad warriors the East had no power to oppose save the
inherent cunning and strategy of Commenus. Craft and wealth meet
stupidity and avarice. The more powerful chiefs of the Crusades are loaded
with presents, feasted by the emperor with the richest delicacies, and their
thirst slaked with iced wine; while their followers are left at a distance in
malarial districts, and intentionally supplied with adulterated flour, tainted
provisions, and bad water. Neglected by friends and insulted by foes, they
contracted diseases and died in great numbers “without having once seen a
foot of the Holy Land, for the recovery of which they had abandoned their
peace, their competence, and their native country. Their misfortunes were
imputed to their own wilfulness, and their sickness to the vehemence of
their own appetites for raw fruits and unripened wines.” By promises of

wealth and long-practiced arts of diplomacy, the Emperor Commenus at last
even induces the leaders of the crusade individually to acknowledge him—
the Grecian Emperor—originally lord paramount of all these regions, as
their liege lord and suzerain.
Scott takes advantage of this historical fact to draw one of his matchless
pictures, which in color and incident rivals the best pages of his more
dramatic romances; and it is here that Count Robert, when the emperor left
his throne for a single moment, dismounted from his horse, took the seat of
royal purple, and indolently began to caress a large wolf-hound, which had
followed him, and which, feeling as much at ease as his master, reposed its
grim form on the carpets of gold and silk damask which tapestried the
imperial footstool. It was a picture of modern liberty looking worn-out
despotism in the face. That sublime audacity revealed the mettle of the race
which was to make individual conscience supreme; and his haughty and
fearless speech was the prologue of Magna Charta, the Bill of Rights, and
the Declaration of Independence. We must pass over the meeting in the
garden of Agesilaus, the entertainment at the palace, the drugged cup, the
dungeon experience of the count, and his miraculous release, the fortitude
and virtue of his Countess Brenhilda, the meeting of the Verangian with
Bertha in the garden of the philosopher, the treachery of Briennius, his
imprisonment and death-decree, and many other incidents of interest, for
the remaining space of this article must be given to a brief consideration of
“The Betrothed;” but the reader will be happy to know that, after the
conquest of Jerusalem, Count Robert of Paris returned to Constantinople en
route to his native kingdom. Upon reaching Italy the marriage of the
Verangian and Bertha was celebrated in princely style; and on his return to
England a large district, adjacent to the New Forest, near the home of his
ancestors, was conferred upon him by William Rufus, where it is presumed
they spent their declining years in peace and happiness.
“The Betrothed” opens with the year 1187—the time of the Third
Crusade—when Baldwin, Archbishop of Canterbury, preached the crusade
from castle to castle, from town to town, awaking the inmost valleys of his
native Cambria with the call to arms for the recovery of the Holy Sepulcher.
As a connecting link between the stories we will say that the soldiers of the
First Crusade, after years of hardship and suffering, at last accomplished
their vows. Antioch and Jerusalem yielded to their arms, the Holy Sepulcher

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

Baldringham; and is compelled to sleep in a haunted chamber, known as the
“Room of the Red Finger.” The picture of Saxon life here presented is in
strong contrast with the life of the Norman nobles. The century that had
followed the Norman invasion of England had irritated wounded pride.
Overcome by superstition and terror, Eveline sees in her dreams the spectre,
and hears the fatal couplet, which gives name to the romance:
“Widowed wife and married maid,
Betrothed, betrayer, and betrayed.”
Eveline goes from her aunt’s to the abbess of a convent, a near relative,
and Hugo De Lacy, having signified his intention of going to the Holy
Land, asks a remission of his vow for two years; but the rigid prelate
Baldwin was inexorable: “The advancement of the crusade was the chief
business of Baldwin’s life, and the liberation of the Holy Sepulcher from
the infidels was the unfeigned object of all his exertions. The successor of
the celebrated Becket had neither the extensive views, nor the aspiring spirit
of that redoubted personage; but on the other hand, saint as the latter had
become, it may be questioned whether, in his professions for the weal of
christendom, he was half so sincere as was the present archbishop.”
The interview between De Lacy and Baldwin shows the great power of
the Church in the eleventh and twelfth centuries. He was compelled to leave
Eveline before wedlock had united them indissolubly, and the first line of
the couplet: “Widowed wife and married maid,” seemed already in the
course of fulfillment. Hugo de Lacy sets sail for Palestine with these good-
by words: “If I appear not when three years are elapsed let the Lady Eveline
conclude that the grave holds De Lacy, and seek out for her mate some
happier man. She can not find one more grateful, though there are many
who better deserve her.”
Eveline returns to the castle of her father; the care of the country against
Welsh invasion is assigned to Damian de Lacy, who had already by acts of
bravery won the esteem of Eveline. The days and months of indolent castle
life wear slowly away, with the occasional visit of a strolling harper, or a
hawking expedition near the castle, which Scott, with his love for out-door
amusements, enters into with apparent relish. On one of these excursions
Eveline is made prisoner by a party of Welsh soldiers, and she is led away

blindfolded through the recesses of the hills. She is rescued by Damian de
Lacy, who however is seriously wounded, and taken against the advice of
friends to the castle. Unfounded rumors poison the minds of the people, the
castle is attacked by the king’s forces, led on by a traitor of Hugo’s family.
Damian is taken prisoner and condemned to death. More than three years
had passed away, and now Hugo returns in poverty, and completely broken
in spirit. Damian is released, and Hugo waives his claim to the hand of
Eveline, and Damian wins one of the noblest women that Scott has made
immortal in the world. So much for the brief outline of the story, which
reveals the manner of life on the Welsh borders during the time of the Third
Crusade. The two novels which follow, “The Talisman” and “Ivanhoe,”
portray even in more vivid colors the sufferings of the crusaders in
Palestine, and the every day life of Merrie England.

THE IVY.

By HENRY BURTON.

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

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

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

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

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

C. L. S. C. COMMENCEMENT.[A]
CLASS OF 1883.

A special dispensation of weather seemed to have been prepared for the
accommodation of the second graduating class of the Chautauqua Literary
and Scientific Circle on Saturday. A bright warm day was benevolently
shaded and cooled by nature’s great sunshade of cloud during all the out-
door exercises, and promptly upon the entry of the multitude under the
cover of the Amphitheater it began to rain to still further cool the air.
Everything was opportune, and the surroundings faultless.
The management terrestrial was equally good. There were four different
processions, in five divisions, moving from different rendezvous in the
grounds and converging and articulating with each other. Each of them
started on time “to a tick,” got to and dropped into place, and everything
moved with the smoothness and precision of a well-adjusted machine. The
program, as prepared, was carried out to the letter and second.
The attendance was as immense, the feeling as good as the day and
management. The unprecedented crowd of the night before was augmented
in the morning by boat-loads and train-loads, and when the signal-bells for
beginning the day’s movement sounded the avenues were thronged.
Punctually at the hour the “Guard of the Gate,” H. S. Field, J. J. Covert,
Miss E. E. Tuttle, W. H. Rogers, Charles B. Wood, S. J. M. Eaton, Miss
Myrtie Hudson, A. M. Martin, J. G. Allen, A. M. Mattison, and the “Guard
of the Grove,” Miss Annie E. Wilcox, A. Wilder, Miss M. F. Wells, Miss E.
Irvin, Miss Eleanor O’Connell, E. C. Norton, Mrs. E. Howe, De Forest
Temple, Mrs. Isaiah Golding, George Seebrick, in charge of Marshal S. J.
M. Eaton, formed at the cottage of Lewis Miller (Auditorium), the right
resting on Hedding Avenue.
The keys of the Golden Gate having been delivered by President Miller
to the Messenger, Rev. A. H. Gillet, the division marched up Hedding
Avenue to Clark, and out Clark to the Hall of Philosophy, and were

distributed to their proper positions in charge of the inclosure of St. Paul’s
Grove.
The second division, consisting of fifty-two little girls, the youngest,
Jennie Templeton, four years of age, heading the procession, beautifully
garlanded and bearing artistic baskets laden with flowers to their very brim,
conducted by Mrs. Frank Beard, superintendent, assisted by Miss M. E.
Bemis, Miss Minnie Barney, Messrs. Garret E. Ryckman, and W. H.
Burroughs, and Miss Blanche Shove, was formed at the Children’s Temple,
the right resting on Clark Avenue. The “Society of the Hall in the Grove,”
(the graduates of the class of 1882, C. L. S. C.) were thus escorted by this
beautiful company of prospective Chautauquans through Clark Avenue to
Hedding, down Hedding to Simpson, through Simpson to Park Athenæum,
through Park Athenæum to Lake Avenue, to Dr. Vincent’s cottage.
The sixth division, consisting of the graduates of the class of 1883, and
the graduates of the class of 1882, who had not last year passed through the
Golden Gate, and under the Arches, met at the gate of St. Paul’s Grove, on
Merrill Avenue, each provided with a ticket, a garnet badge, and a copy of
the commencement service. A portion of the Guard of the Grove stood
within the gate, and a portion stood in waiting without. The Messenger
stood at the portal, holding the keys of the gate. The Guard of the Gate took
their places in order, near the Messenger, while the leaders of the graduating
class, Rev. H. C. Farrar, chairman, and Rev. George C. Wilding, took their
stations, one on the right and the other on the left of the gateway, that at a
given signal the class might read responsively the form of service provided.
The classes were arranged in parallel columns stretching from the portal
itself to the middle of Miller Avenue, a block and a half.
At precisely 9:45 the Chautauqua Band, headed by Frank Wright,
Marshal, marching up Lake Avenue, reached the cottage of Dr. Vincent.
Here the banner of the C. L. S. C., with the “Guard of the Banner,” Mrs. M.
Bailey and Mrs. Delos Hatch, were escorted to their places in the line. Four
little children, Chippie Firestone, Edna McClellan, Nellie Mallory and
Bobbie Davenport were conducted to their places as “streamer bearers,”
while the beautiful fabric itself was borne by Mr. W. E. H. Massey and Mr.
Will Butler. The Superintendent of Instruction, Dr. Vincent, took his place
in the line.

The procession took its order of march, moving through Lake Avenue to
Haven Avenue, and up Haven to the Hall of Philosophy, which it entered,
and the band departed to escort thither “The Chautauqua Procession.”
(Division V.) This division formed at the Hotel Athenæum, Frank Wright,
Marshal, the right resting on the north main front of the hotel, in the
following order:
Band.
Chautauqua Board of Trustees, led by Lewis Miller, Esq., President.
The Faculty and Students of the “Chautauqua School of Languages,” J. H.
Worman, Marshal.
The Normal Alumni, carrying their banners for the various years since
1874, Frank Beard, Marshal.
The members of the classes of the C. L. S. C. for the years 1887, 1886,
1885, 1884, Mr. Copeland, Marshal.
The guests of the Assembly, Rev. Frank Russell, Marshal.
The procession, thus constituted, moved at ten o’clock from the piazza
of the Hotel Athenæum, across the north side of the Park Athenæum, to
Lake Avenue, out Lake Avenue to Cookman Avenue, up Cookman to Clark,
halting on Cookman, the right resting on Clark, in open order, the Hall of
Philosophy being on its right flank.
At this time the entire neighborhood of the “Hall in the Grove” was
filled with interested crowds of spectators, whose eyes saw for the second
time the “Recognition Services” of the immense class in the “People’s
University.”
More than a hundred and fifty of the “Society of the Hall in the Grove”
(graduates of the preceding year), entered the Hall, and were seated in its
western side.
Precisely at ten o’clock, as the booming of the great bell at the Point
indicated the hour, the members of the Class of 1883, with such members of
the Class of 1882 as had not last year passed the Arches, standing at the
gate of St. Paul’s Grove, read responsively the devotional services, Rev.
George C. Wilding acting as precentor of the first section, and Rev. H. C.
Farrar as the precentor of the second section.

The “Messenger,” Rev. A. H. Gillet, in slow and solemn utterance gave
the announcement as follows:
I come to inform all candidates for enrollment in the “Society of
the Hall in the Grove” that the hour appointed for your reception has
arrived; the Hall has been set in order; the Path through the Grove
has been opened; the Arches under which you must pass have been
erected; the Key which will open this Gate has been placed in my
hands. And to you who, as members of the Chautauqua Literary
and Scientific Circle, have completed the four years’ Course of
Reading, and now hold in your hands a pledge of the same, I extend,
in the name of the authorities, a welcome into St. Paul’s Grove,
under the First Arch—and let the watchman guard carefully the
Gate.
After the announcement by the Messenger, he turned and opened the
gate. The first to enter was Mr. Miner Curtis, an invalid, borne in a wheeled
carriage by the advance members of the class of ’83, and accompanied by
his wife and son, who were graduates of last year.
Having entered the Gate, and the Gate having been closed, the class
proceeded very slowly toward the Hall, passing the second and third
Arches. As they walked up the beautifully decorated way, the “Choir of the
Hall in the Grove” stationed at the fourth Arch, and led by Prof. C. C. Case,
sang “A Song of To-day:”
“Sing peans over the Past!
We bury the dead years tenderly.”
At the entrance to the Hall stood the Superintendent of Instruction to
welcome the coming class, and as they passed by the Arch nearest the Hall,
the fifty-two little girls standing in double columns, scattered the way of the
coming graduates with the beauteous flowers, emblematic of the flower-
strewn paths of intellectual light which they may hope to tread in the
coming years.
On entering the building the “Society of the Hall in the Grove” received
their brothers and sisters with the most marked tokens of good cheer,

waving their handkerchiefs and vocally expressing the kindly feeling of the
seniors of the year agone.
At precisely 10:20 the “C. L. S. C. Glee Club,” Prof. W. F. Sherwin,
conductor, led the classes (which filled the Hall to repletion), as they sang
“A sound is thrilling thro’ the trees
And vibrant thro’ the air.”
After the reading of the responsive services came the “Recognition,” by
the Superintendent of Instruction, Dr. J. H. Vincent, as follows:
Fellow Students of the Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle of
the Class of 1883:
Dearly Beloved—You have finished the appointed and accepted course
of reading. You have been admitted to this sacred Grove. You have passed
the Arches dedicated to “Faith,” “Science,” “Literature” and “Art.” You
have entered in due form this Hall, the center of the Chautauqua Literary
and Scientific Circle; and now, as Superintendent of Instruction, in behalf of
my associates, the counselors, who are this day absent, I greet you, and
hereby announce that you, and your brothers and sisters absent from us this
day, who have completed with you the prescribed course of reading, are
accepted and approved graduates of the “Chautauqua Literary and Scientific
Circle,” and that you are entitled to membership in the “Society of the Hall
in the Grove.” The Lord bless and keep thee; the Lord make his face to
shine upon thee and be gracious unto thee; the Lord lift up his countenance
upon thee, and give thee peace.
I may say on behalf of the only counselor who is on the ground, Dr.
Lyman Abbott, that his indisposition renders it unsafe for him to be here,
but at my cottage he will join the procession, and go with you to the
Amphitheater. We will now unite in singing
“Bright gleams again Chautauqua’s wave,
And green her forest arches.”
During the singing of the ode, according to the direction of the
Superintendent of Instruction, the class of 1882, under the marshalship of
W. A. Duncan, quietly marched from the Hall in double column, taking

their position on Haven, Clark, and Cookman avenues, that the graduating
class might pass through their ranks at the close of the service of
recognition.
The Superintendent of Instruction, Dr. Vincent, Lewis Miller, the
Messenger, the Secretary of the C. L. S. C., preceded by the children
(flower bearers) and the Banner of the C. L. S. C., headed the procession,
which passed out of the south side of the Hall, around Clark to Cookman
Avenue, and passed down through the opened ranks of the classes of the C.
L. S. C., from whom they received constant marks of recognition and
affection, the classes in some cases waving their Chautauqua salute to the
Chief as he passed by.
When the head of the procession reached the cottage of Dr. Vincent, a
halt was made for a few moments, during which Dr. Lyman Abbott, one of
the counselors of the C. L. S. C., and the orator of the day, took his place in
the ranks.
As the procession marched up the long walk to the north door of the
Amphitheater, immense throngs filled all the available standing room on the
slopes of the ravine, and the “Blooming of the Lilies” (the Chautauqua
salute) was given by all the opened ranks of the classes as the head of the
procession passed through.
The Chautauqua Band, stationed at the entrance of the north gate,
discoursed sweet music during the passage of the long cortege.
All the officers, invited guests, members of the board of Chautauqua
trustees, officers and members of the Chautauqua School of Languages, the
Normal Alumni, and the various classes of the C. L. S. C., passed into the
great Amphitheater, when the ropes were dropped, and sooner than we write
it, all the remaining seating space was filled to overflowing.
The platform was filled with distinguished Chautauquans and others; the
organ gave forth its sweet harmonies under the manipulation of Prof.
Andrews; the Chautauqua Banner of the C. L. S. C. was stationed in full
view of the vast throng; and after the devotional exercises Dr. Vincent
introduced Dr. Lyman Abbott, who delivered the Commencement oration,
as follows:

THE DEMOCRACY OF LEARNING.

Fellow Chautauquans:—I see in some of your eyes triumph. You have
run in four years a race with uncertainty whether you could ever reach the
goal. You have carried on your work under difficulties and
discouragements, such as are never known to him who has perfect and
continual leisure for the pursuit of studies; but in the midst of employments
which were incessant and imperative in their demands upon you; and your
courage, your patience, your hope, have vanquished the obstacles, and you
are here to-day to receive the outward sign and symbol of your inward
victory. In other eyes I see expectation. You have commenced a course and
you are hopeful of achieving a result, which has been made possible to you
within the last few years, that the fruits and results of study might be yours
though you could not give yourself to a life of study, still less to the
persistent and professional pursuit of scholarship. In other eyes I see desire
dimmed by fear and doubt; you do not know whether this great realm is
open to you or not; you wish that you could be assured that it is. Is this all a
mistake? Is your triumph a false one, your expectation a delusive one, your
hope and your desire one impossible of attainment? This is so asserted.
There are not a few in our times who are of the opinion that learning is of
necessity only for the few, or at all events if the many can enter a little upon
the realm, they must always live upon the border and never can enter into
the heart of the country.
I desire, if I may this morning, to meet and to answer this objection of
skepticism, and to show that learning is within the possible reach to-day of
the great body of industrious, hard-working, perplexed, and driven people
of America; that it is not the privilege of the few; that it is the prerogative of
the many. I desire to show you that we are entering into an epoch which I
may call the “Democracy of Learning.” We have already entered into the
epoch of democracy in religion. The time has gone by, at least for all
Protestant people, of believing that religion is for the few, or that even the
higher and larger privileges of religious life are for the few. It has been
established for all those who believe in an open Bible and in the universal
religion of Jesus Christ that the innermost sanctuary of the temple is for
every one. The great wall that before separated the court of Israel from the
court of the priests has been broken down; there is but one court. The great

veil that hung between the holy of holies and the court of the priests has
been torn asunder, and every one of us is not only priest but high-priest, free
to enter into the very holy of holies. And we have entered into the epoch of
democracy in public affairs. The time has gone by when political power
belonged to the few, and political intelligence was believed to be the
prerogative of the few. We have come into an epoch in which political
power is lodged in the hands of the great masses of the people; and it is
lodged there because we believe that, on the whole, political intelligence is
lodged in the hands of the great masses of the people. I desire to show you
this morning that we are entering upon an epoch of the Democracy of
Learning, in which the highest and best fruits of scholarship are also the
privilege and the prerogative of the many. When we have entered upon that
land, then we shall be ready to enter upon the last and the completest phase
of the triumphant democracy, the Democracy of Industry. Then, when
intelligence shall be universally diffused, and when all men shall have the
power at least of acquiring the largest and the best and the ripest fruits of
knowledge and of intelligence, we shall come into that epoch in which no
longer the few will control the industries of the many, but in which industry
will be the controlling power, and wealth will be its servant.
I have a three-fold object this morning—I desire in the first place to
show you that the fruits of learning are fruits which hang on the lower
boughs of the tree where we may all pluck them; to show you not only that,
but that the ripest and the best fruits of learning hang there. I desire to show
you that it is not necessary that men should go through a college course and
should have four years of leisure and of quiet for college study in order to
reap the best fruits of a college education. The process of investigation must
always be carried on by the few. The results of education may be, yea! are
already becoming the property of the many. Only a few explorers can bear
the perils of the Arctic Sea and investigate the mystery of the North Pole;
but we can all have the fruits of their investigation. Only a few men can
labor and toil in the great libraries searching out the course and progress of
history and its sacred events, but we can all have the garnered fruits of their
toil and their industry. Not only may we pluck a single blossom, and here
and there a single half-ripened fruit from this tree; but the ripest, the best,
that which has hung the longest in the sun-light, that whose cheeks are

painted the most rosy red, and whose heart has in it the most saccharine
juice, that is ready to-day to fall into our open palm if we will but extend it.
In endeavoring to show you this, I shall also necessarily ask you to
consider with me what are the ripest and best fruits of learning. What is the
object of education? It is not an end, it is a means to an end. It is a great pity
that our colleges do not understand this better; for if they did better
comprehend that education is a means, and that the end lies behind, fewer
students would come out with empty diplomas when the college course is
ended.
And incidentally I shall hope also to answer one argument which is
sometimes used, and oftener, I think, lies secretly in the minds of people,
against a popular and universal education. Some satirist has said that
“Ignorance is the mother of devotion.” If that were true, we might well
doubt whether universal education is worth the price we should have to pay
for it. If it were true that God held out in one hand devotion to us and in the
other hand education, and said, “You must choose between these two; if you
become educated you must be skeptical, if you would be devoted you must
remain ignorant”—it would be a difficult question for most of us to decide
whether we would have intelligence without piety or piety without
intelligence. I shall show you that it is not learning, but a little learning
which is a dangerous thing; and that if our work is thorough, the broader the
culture, the profounder the piety.
For our purpose this morning, learning may be divided into four
provinces: literature, history, science and philosophy, to which must be
added in any complete topography of the realm, pure mathematics. By pure
mathematics I mean arithmetic, algebra, geometry, logarithms, the calculus
and the like. But pure mathematics is simply an instrument by which the
scientific mind reaches certain results. I shall not therefore consider this
department at all; it is not necessary for our purpose. Some one must look
through the telescope, some one must know how to use the spectroscope in
order to tell us what is the size of the sun and its constituent elements; but
we do not need to examine the telescope or the spectroscope. Some one
must be skilled in pure mathematics in order to tell us how many miles the
sun is distant from our own earth, but we may take the result without going
through the process. This instrument must always be left in the hand of the

specialist. I wish to show you that all that is best, highest and most
important in literature, history, science and philosophy lies within the power
of your acquisition. I wish to show you the spirit with which you must
study, and the purpose with which you must acquire it; and I wish to show
you that if you acquire in that spirit and with that purpose you can not but
gain in your religious nature.
I. In the first place, then, what is literature, and why do we study it?
Literature is the expression of human life, in its innermost experiences, and
in its outward forms. Sometimes it is the expression of social life,
sometimes of the intellectual life, sometimes of the emotional life; but
always and everywhere literature is a mirror held up either before society or
before the human heart; no, not a mirror, but the sensitized plate in a
photographic apparatus; and the picture, now of society, now of the brain,
now of the palpitating heart with its fears, hopes, joys and experiences, is
given upon the plate; and literature is the picture brought out for us to
examine. To study literature is not to study language. Language is merely
the instrument which we use for the study of literature. To study literature is
to study life—life in its outward semblance or life in its inward experiences.
It is to study the life of the community and of society as we study it in
Thackeray; or it is to study the life of the brain and the thought as we study
it in Plato and Bacon; or it is to study the life of the inward emotions as we
study it in Tennyson or Wordsworth. Now, in order to study life as it is
portrayed in literature it is not necessary to know the original language in
which that life was portrayed. Some one must have studied the Greek
language in order to bring Homer to our intelligence; some one must have
studied Latin and brought Horace within our horizon; some one must have
studied French and brought Molière within our knowledge; some one must
have studied Italian in order to introduce Dante to our acquaintance; but it is
not necessary for us to do so. Some one must have taken the negative and
printed the picture on the paper for us; but we need not all be photographers
in order to get the picture for our own enlightenment. I hold a silver dollar
in my hand. Some one must have gone to the mines and dug out the ore
with a pick; some one must have put it under the great stampers and beaten
it out in the stamping mill; some one must have put it in the sieve and
shaken it and shaken it until the grosser dross was washed away; some one
must have put it into the furnace and heated it until the finer dross was

eliminated; some one must have carried it to the mint and put the stamp of
the United States authority upon it; but we need not all be miners digging in
the mines; we need not all be workers in the stamping mill; we need not all
be toilers in the furnace room; we need not all be masters or mechanics in
the mint. The money was coined by those who have wrought for us, and to
whom our gratitude is due, but the coin is ours; it is not merely for those
who worked in producing it.
I hold in my hand an extract from Taine which expresses that which I
desire to express better than I can perhaps express it myself. Let me read it:
“What is your first remark on turning over the great leaves of a folio, the
yellow sheets of a manuscript, a poem, a code of laws, a confession of
faith? This, you say, did not come into existence all alone, it is but a mould
like a fossil-shell, an imprint, like one of the shapes embossed in stone by
an animal which lived and perished. Under the shell there was an animal;
and behind the document there was a man. Why do you study the shell,
except to bring before you the animal? So you study the document only to
know the man. The shell and the document are lifeless wrecks, valuable
only as a clue to the entire and living existence. We must get hold of this
existence and endeavor to re-create it. It is a mistake to study the document
as if it were isolated. This were to treat things as a simple scholar, to fall
into the error of the bibliomaniac.”
You do not need to have traversed the ocean beach or climbed the
mountain-top and gathered the shells; you may go into the museum where
they have already been gathered, and study their history there. You do not
need, with dictionary and grammar, to work out the secrets of the language;
you may take the products of those who have thus wrought, and learn the
man that lies behind the document.
Not only is it not necessary that a man should study language in order to
study literature; in innumerable cases the study of the language has
absolutely interfered with the study of the literature. In innumerable cases,
men at college have ground away, day after day, and month after month,
and year after year, over cases and nouns and parts of speech, and rules of
syntax and rules of grammar—working only at the grammar, and utterly
oblivious of the great light that lay behind it. Mr. Adams, of Massachusetts,
has recently told us how hard a man may study Greek and how little he may

know of it after he gets through with it, for he assures us that he does not
know the Greek alphabet to-day, although he studied Greek six years, four
years before college and two in it. I confess I should not have thought it
possible for a man to have studied so much and yet know so little when he
got through; but I am very certain of this, that my own experience reflects
the experience of many college students. I learned more of Homer—of his
life, of his character, of the lessons he has to teach, of the man himself—
from reading in the “Ancient Classics for English Readers,” the Iliad and
the Odyssey, and from reading Bryant’s translation, than I ever received
from reading Homer himself in the original Greek in my college class. That
which is highest, and supremest, and best in literature, you may obtain
without a college education. You may learn the life, you may learn the man,
you may learn the sacred truth; and you can not do that without broadening
your sympathies and developing your charity. When you have read Homer
and Virgil and Horace; when you have read Dante and Milton; when you
have read Molière and Shakspere; when you have read Wordsworth and
Tennyson, and when, out of all this reading, you have gathered their fruits,
you will find this to be true, that, though you have one picture of Greek life,
one of Italian life, one of French life, one of English life, one portraying the
life of four centuries before Christ, and one portraying the life of eighteen
centuries after; yet in all these languages, in all these epochs, in all these
civilizations the great heart of hope and joy and love and fear and reverence
and faith was one. And you will learn to know that humanity, in all its
nationalities, in all its epochs, in all its civilizations,—aye, and under all the
varied forms of its religions, true and false—that humanity is one in all its
brotherhood, and one in its great Father in heaven.
II. What is the object of studying history? What is history? It is not a
mere record of dates, not the mere annals of actions, not merely the account
of what men have performed or what nations have wrought. A man does not
know history because he can recite glibly, beginning with Alfred the Great
and coming down to the present time, the dates of the chief events and the
chief epochs in English history. History is the record of God’s dealing with
the human race. History is the account of the great laws under which this
human race has been evolved from its lowest condition to its highest
condition. As the tree grows from the seed planted in the ground—first the
little bud peering above the surface, then the stalk, and then the branches,

and by and by the completed oak; as the child grows from the babe in the
cradle, taking on one new faculty and one power after another till he comes
into as yet incompleted manhood—for the completion of manhood lies afar
off in the dim, distant and invisible future—so the nations of the earth, and
so the whole race of man has been developed from the seed to the oak and
from the babe in the cradle to manhood in its maturity; and to read history is
to read the process of this development.
What, for example, is English history? To know English history is to
know that in the Bible, way back years and years before the birth of Christ
—fourteen centuries before—were planted all the seeds of a free
representative government; to know that in the Mosaic statutes is to be
found the outline of a perfect political economy; to know that the Mosaic
commonwealth had in it all the elements of those institutions which have
made America a free nation; popular suffrage, representative assemblies,
political government divided into three departments, executive, legislative,
and judicial; a carefully framed system of laws, with a carefully framed
system of penalties, a universal system of education, and a religion that was
national. To know history is to know that Alfred the Great was a devout
believer in the Bible as the word of God, that he studied it and found in this
Old Testament, fourteen centuries before the birth of Christ, these seeds of a
free government buried and forgotten. It is to know that he gathered them
out of this old book, as men have gathered wheat seeds out of old mummies
in the tombs of Egypt, and planted them in the more fertile soil of an Anglo-
Saxon community. It is to know how the Anglo-Saxon Witenagemote grew
to be an English Parliament; it is to know how the people came to be
represented in it under Simon de Montfort; and how they came to be
supreme in it under Charles the First, and Cromwell. It is to know how the
nation was at first a congeries of conflicting tribes, partially brought
together by Alfred the Great, and consolidated together under one national
sovereignty by William the Conqueror, and growing thence into unity under
successive statesmen, until these latter days, when William Gladstone, the
greatest statesman of them all, is perfecting the Christian unity of the
empire by Christian justice and equity. It is to know how, in the earlier
history of this nation, the Pope of Rome assumed authority and control over
the nations. It is to know how, through the centuries, the war went on
between the Anglo-Saxon love of liberty and this claim of the Church of

Rome; how it was begun under Augustine, continued under Thomas à
Becket, brought to the beginning of the end under King Henry the Eighth,
until finally under Elizabeth the bonds that bound England to Rome were
severed forever, and England was made free from every foreign prince and
potentate. It is to know how this seed—the sovereignty of the people in the
nation, the sovereignty of the nation against the anarchy of feudalism, and
the liberty of the nation against the Pope—grew into a tree, as yet but a
young sapling; it is to know how then God carefully dug this sapling up,
and transported it three thousand miles across the ocean and planted it in the
yet more fertile soil of America. It is to know that because of the battle and
bloodshed, and the long suffering endured on that soil, to-day there floats
over us the banner of liberty and justice. The seeds were there in that old
Bible, the culture was there in that English history; the fruit we rejoice in
here to-day.
One does not need to work in the Spanish libraries with Prescott, nor in
the Dutch libraries with Motley, nor among the old manuscripts of the
British museum with Froude, nor among the pamphlets of English literature
with Macaulay, in order to gather for himself these highest and supremest
fruits of historical learning. The processes of historical research must
always be carried on by the few; we must always have in this country some
men who have leisure to pursue them. Alas for us, if the time ever comes
when we grow careless or indifferent respecting our colleges or universities,
and the kind of culture which they give; but they give culture that the
cultured may give us fruit. The few garner; the heaviest are for all.
Nor is it possible for one thus to study the history of the human race, to
see how, little by little, liberty has grown, education has grown, humanity
has grown, and not grow himself in faith in an overruling Providence, and
in hope in the Supreme God.
As the broad, comprehensive, interior study of literature will give
breadth of sympathy, so the broad, comprehensive, and large study of
history will give hope. When the fog covers the ocean, and the mariner
befogged knows not where he is, and can not tell whence his course has
been, nor where it shall be, he sometimes goes aloft and from the top-mast,
looking above the fog, discerns the coast in the distance and the entrance
into the harbor. In history we rise out of the fog that environs all in the

lower level; we look above the fog and over it, and know then the courses
we have traced, and see the harbor and the haven not far before us.
III. What is science, and for what purpose do we study it? I use, of
course, the word science in its restricted sense, meaning natural science. For
two purposes. Nature is a vast and wonderful machine; its mechanism may
well arouse both our astonishment and our admiration. If you have a watch
that keeps time so that it does not vary more than two or three minutes in a
year you are proud of it, and if you should by chance have a watch that did
not vary more than one minute in a year you would be a remarkably humble
man if you did not boast of it to your acquaintances. But in the heavens the
sun and the planets round it have been keeping time for the centuries, and as
yet astronomy has not detected an appreciable variation in its time. What a
wonderful mechanism is this! If an inventor should construct a furnace
which would keep us warm in winter and cool in summer, no manufacturer
would be able to supply the orders. But you have within you a furnace such
that although you may go from the land of the Esquimaux with the
thermometer 40° below zero, to the tropics with the thermometer 110°
above zero, this furnace does not allow the habitation in which you dwell to
vary more than four or five degrees. What a wonderful mechanism is this
nature which we study! And we study this mechanism partly that we may
use it, that we may lay hold on these great forces of nature and make them
subservient to our will by understanding the laws which regulate and
govern them. But nature is more than a machine; nature is also a book, and
a wonderful book, written all over in hieroglyphics that require study for
their apprehension. It is more than a mechanism. It is a revelation; and it
reveals wondrous things to him who knows how to read it aright. Edison
and Morse, Copernicus and Newton—they have interpreted nature on the
one side; but Wordsworth, and Longfellow, and Bryant—they have
interpreted nature on the other, and the one class of interpretations is as
valuable as the other. We study nature as a mechanism that we may know
how to use it; we study nature as a book that we may know how to read it.
Now, all that which is most valuable in nature, as a mechanism, we lay
hold of and use without going through the labor necessary in the original
examination by the first investigator. We do not need to understand the laws
of heat and steam to use them; some one has learned the laws, and has
brought fire and water together and has pronounced a nuptial blessing over

them, and a child has been born of the marriage, and we take steam for our
slave without knowing the ritual which married the father and mother.
Some one must have learned how to reach his hand to the cloud, and bring
down the electricity, make it run our errands and serve the purpose of our
illumination; but we do not need to know the processes in order to sit under
the light. Not only is it true that the mechanical uses that come from natural
sciences we get without going through the processes, but the literary and
spiritual we get also. Others have been turning over the pages of this
marvelous book and have been reading it to us, and unconsciously,
unknowingly, almost without the sense that we have been learning
anything, we have learned great lessons in this book of nature. Scientists on
the one side and theologians on the other have put science and religion into
antagonism with one another. But they are sister teachers of the race;
science has received all its life from the late comprehended revelation of the
first chapter of Genesis that nature is man’s servant, not his god; and
theology has learned some of its profoundest lessons from the book of
nature which science has interpreted. Consider for one moment what a
fundamental religious lesson we have learned in the school-room of science
almost without knowing that she was our teacher. The ancient Hebrews
believed that Palestine was the world; all the rest was a mere outlying
district environing it, the back yard as it were. The Mediterranean was the
Great Sea, the little pond of Galilee was the Sea of Galilee, the sun and
moon and stars were torches for man’s illumination—that was their
conception of the universe. With that conception it is not strange that they
had an equally insignificant and unworthy conception of the God of the
world, a conception against which the inspired writers were continually
struggling, and from which they were continually endeavoring to lift the
people up. When the Philistines fought against the Israelites and captured
the ark of God they were in triumph. “We have captured God,” they
thought; and the Israelites were almost equally in despair, for they also half
thought that Jehovah had been carried off a prisoner. Now, science, even
more than revelation, has been enlarging our conceptions of this universe.
The Holy Land, a province about as large as Vermont, is no longer the
earth; the Atlantic and the Pacific are the great seas; this globe on which we
live is but one of the smaller globes of the planetary system; and the great
planetary system itself is but a smaller one of the great planetary systems
which are circling around some vast and distant sun. Science has taught us

too that all this universe is linked together, bound together by a common
law, bound together by a common order of phenomena. It has investigated
the sun and the stars, it has analyzed their light, it has shown us that the
substances of these bodies are identical with the substances of ours. It has
taught us the unity of nature, it has taught us the vastness of nature. There
are stars in the firmament which you can see with the naked eye, on which
if a man were standing with a telescope fine enough and powerful enough
to see what is transpiring on this globe, and should look through it to-day,
he would see not this congregation assembled under this roof, but the first
outbreaking of the revolution, so long does it take light to traverse from our
globe to the stars, light that takes but eight minutes to travel from the sun to
the earth. There are stars so distant that he would see not Chautauqua
gathered here to-night, but the crucifixion of Christ taking place on the hill
of Calvary; stars so distant, that with a telescope powerful enough to carry
the message of this world to his sight, he would see Abraham coming out of
the land of his idolatry into the promised land; stars so distant that he would
see this earth first taking on its brightness in the birth-day of its glory. So
vast is our universe that the mind can not attempt to comprehend its
majestic distances. It is not theology, it is not religion, it is not even the
Bible that has unfolded this vastness; it is science. It is impossible that men
who have once learned anything of this greatness of creation, or anything of
this unity of creation, should ever bow down again before idols of wood
and stone. So long as men thought that the laws of the material universe
were antagonistic and anarchic, that the universe was made up of warring
tribes and provinces, so long it was not strange that they should worship
many gods. So long as they thought that it was a little province on which
they lived, the boundaries of which they could themselves measure with
their tape-line, they might well worship before images they had formed
with their utterances or with their hands. But to-day you might burn every
Bible in the land, you might burn every church and Sunday-school house,
you might put all the priests and ministers in America on the great bonfire,
and consume them as well, and then you might erase from every mind
every lesson that had been learned from church or Sunday-school, from
priest or minister, and this nation could not go back to idolatry, unless it
went back to the utter barbarism of utter ignorance. That which is highest
and supremest in science you can learn without becoming a scientist; and

you can not learn it without learning the large reverence that is the very
foundation of religion.
IV. What is philosophy? The study of philosophy is the study of the laws
which govern the spiritual realm, as the study of natural science is the study
of the laws which govern the natural and the physical realm. It is not
studying Hegel, and Kant, and Schleiermacher; it is not studying Hickock
or Hopkins; it is not studying what philosophers have thought—they are the
mere translators, the mere “ponies.” Philosophy is the law of humanity,
either social or individual. The study of philosophy is the study of the laws
which God has ordained for the binding of men together into a common
organism, or for the government of their individual lives. Men believed that
the foundation of the State was a compact, and that each citizen gave up
something of his rights for the common welfare; they believed that the
foundation of the Nation was a compact in which each State gave up
something which it had of right to secure the advantage of a
commonwealth. So believing, they concluded that any State might
withdraw from its allegiance, and they might have easily concluded that any
individual might withdraw from his allegiance. It is only as we learned that
we are born into the government and made a part of the State from the
beginning by the ordinance of God, that we have learned what is the bond
that has bound the nation together. Revolting from the Romish doctrine that
marriage is a sacrament, Protestantism has been teaching for years that it is
merely a civil contract. We are reaping the result of this false teaching. To-
day in Puritan Connecticut, the minister can not tie the marriage bond much
faster than the courts across the street can dissolve it. We have yet to learn
that marriage is more than a civil contract, that it is an ordinance of God;
that he who made man and woman made them that these twain should
become one flesh, and made the home to be the first Church and the first
State. When we have learned that, we shall have learned the foundation of
the home as we have learned the foundation of the State. To study
philosophy is to study the laws which govern society in its organism. All
text-books are only instructions to teach us how to study life itself, which is
the great text-book. To study philosophy is also to study the laws which
govern the individual. It is to know that God has made you body, soul and
spirit; that he has given you a physical organism, wonderful, but simply a
mechanism in your hands; that he has given you a mental power wonderful

in its reasoning qualities, but with its partial parallels in the animals about
you; it is to know that far above the body and the mind is the spirit—
reverence, and love, and hope, and a living faith—that makes you one with
God, and that points you to your eternal habitation. This it is to study
mental and moral philosophy. It is to know how to read the secrets of your
own soul. It is to know how to read the inner life of the souls of others.
Books will help; scholarship will help; but the great book is the human soul,
and we need not have scholarship to read that book. Burns and Shakspere
were not great scholars; but no scholar ever surpassed Burns and Shakspere
in the reading of the human soul.
No one ever exerted so profound an influence on the life of humanity as
Jesus of Nazareth. You may think that Jesus was simply a man; you will not
doubt that from the teachings of Jesus have gone forth an influence greater
by far than went forth from Plato, or Socrates, or Confucius, or Buddha.
You may think with me that he was the Son of God; you surely will not
doubt the potency of the influence that proceeded from the incarnate Son of
God. Jesus, the son of the carpenter, what did he know of literature, of
science, of philosophy? Rather, what knowledge did he employ? He was
thoroughly familiar with the literature of his day—that is, the Bible; but he
never displayed or employed any critical or literary knowledge respecting
it. He never discussed questions of authorship, he never debated questions
of origin or date, he did not touch that which lay on the surface. He read the
interior and spiritual truth. He saw in that which to their mind was a mere
annal, and a mere law the beating heart of the inspired prophet telling of
God. He tore off the wrapping and made the world see it. He plucked from
the psalm of David this bud, “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want,”
and in his hand it blossomed into the parable of the Good Shepherd. He
plucked from the psalm of David this utterance, “Like as a father pitieth his
children,” and in his hand it blossomed into the parable of the Prodigal Son.
He knew the life back of literature. He invented no machine, gave no hint of
any, suggested no steam engine, no steam boat, no electric light. What he
knew I say not. I may say what he used, and knowledge of nature as a
mechanism he never used; but he looked into nature as a book, read her
teachings, and interpreted them; in the sower going forth to sow, in the
fisher gathering his fish from his net; in the bird’s song in the air he heard
the sweet note of trust; in the flowers blossoming from the ground he read

the sweet promise of God’s providing care. Things which men having eyes
saw not and ears heard not be brought to their vision and their hearing. He
propounded no scheme of political philosophy, none of psychology, or
theology, but he taught that “One is your father, even God in heaven, and ye
all are brethren;” and the great laws that are to bind together, rather the one
great law of order, the law of love, this law he expounded. The son of the
carpenter lived that he might teach, among the other lessons, this lesson of
the democracy of learning; that learning, in its higher and more valued
forms, is for the mechanic busy at his bench, for the smith grimy with toil at
his forge, for the mother busiest of all, with hands and brain and heart filled
with her children.
Kings of the earth have fought that they might hold the power in their
own hands, and the many might be subject to them. The people have risen,
and grown strong, until at last they have trampled the king and the army
under their feet, and have rushed into the citadel and the palace and taken
possession, and the citadel of oppression and the palace of luxury have
become the temple of liberty. The priests have fought long that they might
keep the people out of the temple and hold the mysteries of religion an
exclusive possession. But the people have surged up against the priests and
trampled them under foot, and occupied the temple of religion. The temples
of earning are open; the kings of learning stand at the door, and with their
scepters beckon you to come and share their coronation and their crown.
The priests of learning bid you come, that they may open to you the
mysteries of literature. For in the republic of letters there is no aristocracy
but that of service. And they only are great who have learned how best to
serve their fellow-men.
The triumph that I read in your eyes is not a false triumph. You have
plucked the first fruits, and all the other brightest and best are before you
for your plucking. The expectation that I read in your eyes is not a delusive
expectation. The fruit is yours. The desire that I read in your eyes is not a
cheating desire. The aspiration that burns within you for learning may have
its gratification. You have no money? Literature is cheap. You have no
time? You have as much time as Schliemann had, who stood in the long line
before the postoffice and studied his Greek while waiting for the letters.
You have as much time as Mary Somerville had, who wrote the volume
which gave her a princely reputation among astronomers, while tending

with motherly care the children in the nursery pulling at her skirts. The
forces of nature come out of the ground and offer themselves to you to do
the drudgery which aforetime was left to human hands, that you may have
time to learn the truth of God, and the works of God, and the will of God.
We stand to-day on the mountain height. We look just across the valley. The
Jordan is no longer overflowing its banks, but is a narrow and shallow
stream. The promised land lies there in all its richness and brilliance, and
God’s providence utters its promise to us Americans in this nineteenth
century: “Be strong and of good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou
dismayed; for the Lord thy God has given thee this land for a possession
forever.”

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

ADDRESS OF PRESIDENT LEWIS MILLER.

Chautauquans:—In these days of popular education, it may be profitable
to examine the different sources of culture and development. First among
these are books—the treasures that lie hidden in them may well awaken our
inquiry and admiration, may well be worth the many hours of toil spent in
preparing the mind, so that it can converse with the masters of the past and
present. I do not wonder at hunger after the hidden treasures of books, for in
them are power, wealth and pleasure. We need but watch the interested
audiences that gather in this Amphitheater, to realize the power there is in
the rostrum, how in all ages peoples have been confirmed or changed in
their opinions by that mere persuasive power of words. Your mind now runs
over the histories you have studied, and you recall the orators who, through
the power of speech alone, have revolutionized empires, advanced or
checked civilization. What pleasure to the mind and heart, to be able in our
leisure hours to sit with Herodotus, Macaulay, Motley, Bancroft, and a host
of others, and hear them tell their historic stories! or with David, Homer,
Shakspere, Whittier and Bryant, and let them fill our minds with the
beautiful and soothing words of poetry! Does not art, in a still more
condensed form, give us the history of the nations of the past? Does it not

give us a clearer idea of thought? What descriptive words could give us so
clear a view of the golden candlestick, around which clusters so much of
interest to the Bible student, as can be had by a look at the plaster mould of
the arch of Titus, in the Museum? What more rapidly moulds, and more
powerfully influences, the present age than do the pictures on the walls, and
the books in the libraries of our homes?
May I venture to bring before your mind that other phase of art, known
as the mechanic art? That art, on which the educator has placed so small an
estimate that when an apparently dull boy is found in the school or family,
he is turned over to it, in the notion that stupidity can here find subsistence
and compensation.
Now, give this art the power to express itself in words and in the fine
arts, and I will bring back to you the days of Raphael and Michael Angelo,
in which thought was expressed in words and on canvas and stone, in such
purity that the student in the schools of to-day is carried back to these times,
to study the perfection and beauty of expression. In the line of a better
educated labor lies the settlement of the great labor question. Will it be as
Garfield suggests, for Chautauqua to provide not only for the leisure, but
secure the leisure by some system of education that will make it possible?
If by any means the mental energies can be combined with the muscles,
the product of labor will be greatly increased, and the time producing the
same quantity lessened. Struggling labor hardly sees that in the short space
of about thirty years the time has been lessened from thirteen and fourteen
hours to ten hours per day, and the wages enhanced from fifty and seventy-
five cents per day to an average of two dollars per day. In most of the
prominent manufacturing establishments throughout the North we are at a
near approach to a reduction of time to eight hours—and may God speed
the day. Take the advance in quantity of products for ten years only, and by
the aid of machinery, and more intelligent labor, we have gained more than
two hours. Why should not labor get its due proportion? We are fast turning
the drudgery of labor to pleasure. You need but visit the dish-washing and
laundry-rooms at the Hotel Athenæum to witness the truth of what I state.
Some years ago I made an estimate of the number of inhabitants it would
require to do by hard labor that which was done at that time by twelve

thousand inhabitants by the use of steam and water power. It reached the
enormous number of three hundred thousand inhabitants. From this we may
learn that it will not be a great hardship to give to labor more leisure and
more pay, not rashly as by strikes, but by prudent and gradual measures.
Ah, the wealth of nations rests in this art! The power to subdue forests
and belt empires with railroads and telegraphs, and ignore distance is in its
hands.
This art sends forth its missionary in its manufactured products to all
quarters of the globe; every different product is a copy of a volume on some
subject, carrying with it some Christian’s impress and prayer. So true is this
that it needs no great expert to tell an article made by Christian hands from
that made by heathen.
This power of the individuality impresses with interest and wonder. How
readily thoughts in words are detected from others, even on the same
subject. Every workman of a manufactured article in some such sense
makes his individual impress on the work he performs, and it is as readily
told. The Christian, liberty-loving intelligence is pressed into every article
and sent forth on its mission of preaching the gospel to every creature, even
gaining entrance where the missionary is refused. With this truth in mind,
with what renewed pleasure must the liberated laborer make still greater
impress of his individual mind. This thought can be carried into all that we
do. Our walk, our talk, and the expression of our faces all enter into our
products of whatever kind. How important that it should be imbued with the
spirit of intelligent Christianity.
Class of ’83, you have only opened the doors to wider range, to fields of
greater usefulness. All about you lie sleeping elements to be quickened into
activity. Have your accumulated mental development well stored, and
constantly add more. The purpose of the study was more to create an
appetite for knowledge than to give a thorough or finished education.
We are glad as officers of the C. L. S. C. to present you with diplomas
having places for many seals. May there be no laxity of effort until the
crowning seal will emblazon over the whole its rays.

The Rev. Dr. Vincent said:
A large number of salutations from members of the C. L. S. C. have been
received, some of them breathing a simple prayer of benediction on the
Circle and its officers, others testifying to the value of the Circle to them
intellectually, socially, and spiritually; many are too long to read at this
time, but every line has been carefully read by the Superintendent of
Instruction, and a few of the sentences are here reported:
From Sacramento, Cal.: “We long to be with you at the Assembly; but
since we can not be, be assured that as we read of Commencement Day our
hearts beat in sympathy with those of the C. L. S. C.”
From Washington, D. C.: “Hearty thanks for so splendid an opportunity
of living more abundantly, as I have enjoyed through the noble conception
and sensible management of the C. L. S. C. I hope to add many of its seals
to my diploma.”
From St. Paul, Minn.: “The day in which ’83 passes through the Golden
Gate you, who are present amidst the jubilee, will most likely forget the
distant ones; but I for one will put on my C. L. S. C. badge, take out two
faded maple leaves, kept in remembrance of last summer, and in
imagination march with the proud class under the Arches, while I will pray
the good Lord to bless Chautauqua.”
From Brooklyn, N. Y.: “The salutation, as recorded in Malachi iii:16,
‘Then they that feared the Lord spake often one to another, and the Lord
hearkened and heard it; and a book of remembrance was written before him
for them that feared the Lord and thought upon his name.’”
From San Francisco: A New Yorker writes: “I found The Chautauquan
on a planter’s table in the Sandwich Islands, and learned of a circle in
Honolulu.”
A member writes: “The royal road to learning is no terra incognita. Our
route en roi is called via Chautauqua.”
From Amsterdam, N. Y.: A poem closes:

“I would like very much to Chautauqua to go;
It would certainly give me great joy;
But my duties are such that I linger at home:
I’ve a year-old Chautauqua boy.”
From Elkhorn, Wis.: One who sees through the lenses of the C. L. S. C.,
the Chautauqua University of the future, writes: “In 1904, A. D., I shall be
fifty years old. At that time I hope to graduate at the Chautauqua University.
This will give me just twenty-five years from the beginning of my course in
1876 to complete the work, and I intend to work diligently every year.”
From Massachusetts: “Language would be left a beggar if I were to tell
you all that the C. L. S. C. has been to me. It has been a song and a poem,
when life was beginning to read like prose. It has been sunshine on many a
cloudy day. God bless our alma mater, and make her days long in the land.”
From New York: “When the history of the successful men and women of
the next generation shall be written, may it be found that the members of
the Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle of 1883 are among the
number.”
From Santa Barbara, Cal., comes the greeting of Mrs. M. P. Austin, who
prays that “the C. L. S. C. may do as much for others as it has done for me.”
From St. Paul, Minn., a graduate writes: “Although in middle life, I have
rejoiced like a child at the prospect of graduating. My studies have been
precious to me; and, although I have carried them on alone, the enthusiasm
has never grown less. May I boast of the dozen recruits whom I have
brought into the work, not for the name of it, but because I want everybody
to be benefited as I have been. Saturday will find me in a white dress and
blue ribbon, and I shall try to catch the spirit which ascends to our Father,
and have something of the blessings which are invoked upon the graduates
of that day. May his blessed spirit be with you, and may he be precious not
only to them who believe, but to many who never before have called on his
name.”
From Massachusetts a member writes: “I have heard this objection to the
C. L. S. C., that it leads to neglect of Bible study. My personal experience

has been that I never spent more time in Bible study or loved it more than
during the past four years.”
From Dakota a mother writes: “Although my boy is but eleven years old,
he has done the greater part of my reading this year, and dear little Maggie,
nine years of age, is greatly interested in what she calls mamma’s course.
She also often reads for me, patiently spelling out the hard words.”
William C. Wilkinson, of Tarrytown, New York, writes:
“I send greeting, congratulation and God-speed to the class of
1883. A persistence on your part of four years in a course of
volunteer reading and study has not only created character in you,
but also proved that you possessed character to begin with. It was
not perfectly easy for you to do what you have done. There have
been times, more than once, during these four years, when the
temptation was strong to abandon your undertaking. But you did not
abandon it, simply because you would not abandon it. Your will was
strong enough to overcome the strong temptation. Now your will is
stronger for having been strong. Go forward in this added strength
to add strength again. The will conquers by conquering, until it
becomes at length unconquerable. Conquer is a proud word. Let us
change it and say something meeker and truer. Let us say, obey. We
conquer only when we obey. You have obeyed your conscience in
accomplishing your appointed course. That obedience is your
victory. When the will is perfectly obedient to conscience,
conscience being at the same time perfectly enlightened by the
Word and by the Spirit of God, then we are omnipotent. We reign
then with Christ. All things are ours. Go on, alumni of Chautauqua.
Carry forward the banner. Let it float in your hands ever farther and
higher. I do not say plant it anywhere. I say bear it onward and
upward. There is always, amid the Alps of our glorious endeavor
and struggle, a peak above and beyond. Climb that, and then—
forward still. The goal is never attained, but the race itself is better
than would be rest at the goal. Remember the ranks that are behind
you, year after year, in the future. Give them a generous lead.
Remember the one pioneer rank in advance of you. Tread close on

their heels. Follow, so that it will be hard for your leaders to lead.
Lead, so that it will be hard for your followers to follow.
“God bless and crown the Class of 1883!
“W. C. Wilkinson.”
Bishop Henry W. Warren writes:
“Top of the Rocky Mountains, August 1, 1883.
“Dear Chautauquans:—Pausing to take a farewell look at the
Atlantic slope before going down that of the Pacific, my mind
passes over many a place of interest and rests on Chautauqua. There
is no more interesting place on the continent. How many faces rise
for recognition! But I can not indulge in personal greetings, for the
friends are so many and so dear that time would fail me to speak of
the institution that is the outcome of the inspiration and labor of all
these friends. William Cullen Bryant said Chautauqua exemplified
the spirit of mutual encouragement. President Garfield said that it
taught what to do with the result of civilization’s first fight, leisure;
and Bishop Wiley said it was a Christian center, able to save the
gospel if there was nothing else left.
“Unquestionably, Chautauqua is the grandest inspiration and
quickening of mind in this century or any other. It is the
consummate flavoring of our Christian republican principles. It
offers all opportunities for growth to all men. It seems to present as
good a chance to every man as comes to any man. This development
of mind is our chief wealth. We turn auriferous quartz into coin, iron
ore into a body for the soul of electricity, but mind had to be
developed and refined first. Rome sought wealth by the robbery of
other nations, but she never gained as much wealth in a decade as
we develop from nature in a year. What we need as a nation is a
perpetual push and effort of the masses of men to rise. They drag
down none of the few that are already eminent, but, by surpassing
them, incite to greater attainments. Let there be no fear that there
will be too many great men, or men too great. These vast glittering
snow-peaks about me find room enough, as well as the mole hills.

‘There is always room at the top,’ for the top is larger than the
bottom, as these bending heavens are larger than the earth, and
eternity longer than time.
“Would that I could set one of these mountains near Chautauqua
and let its grassy base, its wooded slopes, its masses of ore, its
glittering crown of glorious light say to every beholder: Here is an
object lesson worthy of God’s giving to his child, here is a symbol
of the eternal power of the God-head of your Father, here are hints
of what his child may be. All things are for all men; whosoever will,
let him come and take.
“Dear members of the C. L. S. C. of 1883, I commend you to the
baccalaureate sermon of Dr. Vincent to-morrow for higher and
grander utterances than these heights can give; to Dr. Abbott also for
grander foundations than those of these mountains; even those of
the Christian faith, for the mountains shall melt with fervent heat,
but the word of God standeth forever.
“Yours in Christian knowledge and faith,
“Henry W. Warren.”
Dr. Vincent then read the following:

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

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

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

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

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

After the reading of the congratulations and greetings, Dr. Vincent and
President Miller presented the members of class ’83, present at Chautauqua,
their well-earned diplomas. Out of this wonderful class of graduates,
numbering nearly 1,400, over 300 were present. The class has
representatives in all of the following States and Territories:
California, Maine, Virginia, Florida, Tennessee, Pennsylvania,
Massachusetts, New York, Ohio, Minnesota, Maryland, Iowa, Illinois,
Georgia, Indiana, Michigan, Kansas, Rhode Island, Wisconsin, New Jersey,
Texas, Vermont, West Virginia, Connecticut, Missouri, District of
Columbia, New Hampshire, Colorado, Dakota, Kentucky.

Canada is also represented, and in far-away China there is one graduate.
Thirteen different denominations are represented, as follows: Methodist,
Presbyterian, Congregational, Episcopal, Baptist, Christian, United
Presbyterian, Reformed, Unitarian, Universalist, Friends, Roman Catholics,
Seventh-day Baptists.
The following occupations were represented: Teachers, housekeepers,
ministers, lawyers, clerks, students, mechanics, farmers, merchants,
dressmakers, milliners, music-teachers, and stenographers.

SOCIETY OF THE HALL IN THE GROVE.

At 4 o’clock p. m., the Society of the Hall in the Grove assembled in the
Hall for counsel in regard to its future work. It was clearly seen by all that
the prosperity of the organization, if not its very existence, required
accommodations for its meetings, such as Chautauqua could not now
supply. After considerable discussion of many suggestions, the following
committee was appointed to consider plans for the erection of a building, or
of a series of buildings, in the near future for the use of the society: R. S.
Holmes, of Auburn, N. Y.; A. M. Martin, of Pittsburgh, Pa.; A. H. Gillet,
Prof. Mattison, and S. J. M. Eaton, D.D. A committee on constitution, aims
and plans of the organization was appointed, consisting of J. H. Vincent,
D.D.; J. R. Pepper, of Memphis, Tenn.; L. C. Peake, of Toronto, Canada; R.
S. Holmes and J. G. Allen. J. G. Allen and A. D. Wilder were appointed
additional members of the Guard of the Banner.
After the Society of the Hall in the Grove had completed the business, a
social followed, and song and chat ruled the hour.
About 9 o’clock, under the direction of A. M. Martin, the camp fires
were lighted. In the midst of a light which was nearly as bright as day, R. S.
Holmes, I. I. Covet, of Pittsburgh; J. H. Kellogg, of Troy, N. Y.; Lewis C.
Peake, of Toronto; Rev. J. H. Warren, of Tennessee, and A. M. Martin, of
Pittsburgh, made speeches, containing reminiscences of the past,
interspersed with song, and the great crowd appeared to listen as attentively
as if it had not heard a speech during the day.

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

ORDER OF THE WHITE SEAL.

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

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

MONTEREY ASSEMBLY.
The Pacific Grove Assembly, held near Monterey, California, devoted
Friday, July 13, to the commencement exercises of the C. L. S. C. We give a
full report of the celebration:
Friday was a perfect Monterey day. The Chautauquans gathered
according to program in the large public parlor of the railroad building and
fell into line for a procession. The choir sang a cheerful Chautauqua song,
in which many others joined, and then “processed.” First came the president
and officers of the society, then the graduates, then all members of the C. L.
S. C.—then everybody. All members wore an oak leaf, which is the
regulation badge, but members of the graduating class wore for a decoration
a broad badge of dark garnet-colored ribbon, fringed with bullion, and with
the unfailing “C. L. S. C.” and the figures “1883” printed upon it in gold.
They marched toward the Assembly Hall, passing under the motto-inscribed
and garlanded arches, and entering the building proceeded to the front seats,
which had been reserved. The hall, under the care of the decorative
committee, had broken out into fresh verdure and bloom, while the letters
“C. L. S. C.” and the class dates, “1879-1883,” had blossomed out in gold
and scarlet upon the white wall behind the speakers’ platform.
The hall was full to overflowing. Everybody on the grounds had been
invited to be present, and the greatest interest was manifested by all. The
exercises began with an inspiring Chautauqua song. An earnest and
appropriate prayer was offered by Rev. Dr. Heacock, of San Jose, and then a
beautiful letter of greeting from Dr. Vincent, the founder of the society, was
read. It was full of cordial friendliness, outlined briefly the benefits which
he trusted all had received from pursuing the C. L. S. C. studies, and
pointed out the catholicity and wide helpfulness of the Chautauqua Idea. It
closed with words of stimulus and encouragement, as well as
congratulation. Prof. Norton now made a brief but admirable introductory
address. He spoke of the Chautauqua enthusiasm and interest as an
intellectual revival. It is a work for the masses, differing from that of the
great universities of whose benefits only a few favored ones can avail

themselves. It goes to homes of poverty, to workshops and kitchens as well
as the libraries and parlors. It is food for the hungry wherever they may be.
It comes to lives which have been arid and desolate through monotonous
toil. He spoke of the great increase of insanity among our farming
population, owing, no doubt, to the lack of healthful mental occupation. The
C. L. S. C. course of reading and plans for neighborhood circles may help
these lonely, overworked people to new and broader horizons of thought
and life. Prof. Norton closed with a pathetic and poetic comparison between
our real lives and our temporary sojourn by the great sea which tosses and
surges before us. Our footsteps on the shore here are washed away by every
incoming tide, so with our “footsteps on the sands of time.” The great sea of
eternity will soon efface all our little earthly deeds. Let us live for eternal
things. Let to-day be a commencement indeed—a beginning of grander and
better living, of deeds which shall survive in the long years of God.
The quartet choir sang another beautiful song, and then three essays
were read from the graduates.
A delicate little prose-poem called “Childhood in Literature,” by Miss
Myrtie Hudson, of San Jose (a post-graduate of our society), was read by
Miss Lydia Bean. The diplomas were presented by Dr. Stratton, who
remarked when giving them that these diplomas do not confer degrees, but
something better than a degree, for they represent mature study, habits of
fixed thought and life-long intellectual growth.
There were more than forty C. L. S. C. graduates in our State this year.
The following were present: Mrs. Lydia A. French, Stockton; Mrs. H. J.
Gardener, Rio Vista; Miss E. A. Wood, Riverside; Mrs. A. J. Bennett, San
Jose; Mrs. M. E. McCowen, Ukiah; Mrs. E. M. Reynolds, San Jose; Miss
M. McBride, Dixon; Mrs. C. C. Minard, Evergreen; Mrs. Estelle Greathead,
San Jose; Mrs. Lucy N. Crane, San Lorenzo; Mrs. S. E. Walton, Yuba City;
Miss Cornelia Walker, San Jose; Mrs. S. F. Gosbey, Santa Clara; Mrs. F. W.
Pond, Los Angeles; Miss Alice M. Wells, Dixon; Mrs. M. H. McKee, San
Jose; Miss Henrietta Stone, Mrs. Mira E. Miller, Santa Barbara; Dr. C. C.
Stratton, San Jose.
After the commencement exercises the crowd dispersed, and the friends
of the graduates gathered around them to congratulate and exchange

friendly greetings. But it was late lunch-time, and the keen demands of
appetite were never keener than here at Pacific Grove. So, with the
understanding that all were to reassemble at 2 o’clock p. m., those who had
lingered hastened away. The hour for meeting soon arrived, and the
Chautauquans mustered in force at the beautiful cove near Prospect Park.
After a lively social time, President Stratton called the meeting to order and
pointed out a suggestive-looking traveling photographer, armed with the
usual camera and other implements, who had been hovering about a
neighboring cliff, and evidently had intentions of immortalizing the C. L. S.
C. Assembly. Everybody was requested to assume a graceful attitude and a
pleased expression, which they made haste to do. The beach was covered
with people, standing, sitting, reclining. It was very hard work to be sober
and proper, and look as dignified as future ages will demand. Our president
reclined upon the sand, as befitted “the noblest Roman of us all;” the
secretary sat upright and faced the music; the modest vice-president tried to
get away, but was restrained by his numerous admiring friends; the small
boys in front were entreated to keep still; the photographer removed the
pall-like black cloth, and the deed was done. The result was quite
successful, and the picture may yet hang in the “Hall in the Grove,” that
eastern Chautauquans may see how their transcontinental comrades look
when disporting themselves by the sunset sea.
The photograph business being disposed of, the next thing in order was
the Round-Table. There was no table to speak of, but a great deal of
“round”—an informal all ’round talk in a pleasant, familiar fashion.
Everybody was seated upon the shining white sand, a soft gray sky
overhead, a mild, warm atmosphere enfolding all, and the illimitable sea
stretching out before us and breaking in soft murmurs at our feet. Members
from all over the State gave, in brief conversational style, cheering reports
of their various circles, and the utmost interest was manifested by all in the
common weal. The tone of the meeting was decidedly inspiring, and all
seemed ready to promise improvement and renewed effort.
The next evening was the mussel-bake. A blazing fire had been built
upon the sand, but far from the assemblage, and much vigorous muscle was
displayed in stirring the embers and piling on driftwood and resinous pine
cones, but as to the mussels, perhaps the less said about them the better.
There were, indeed, mussels baked, and they were passed around upon a

board in the most approved style, but it must be confessed the supply was
not very abundant. The whole mussel-bake was a little like Hamlet, with the
part of Hamlet left out. The explanation lay in the fact that mussels can only
be gathered in certain places and at very low tide, and there had been a little
misunderstanding. Nevertheless, brethren, we had a grand time, an
unlimited supply of apples and freshly-roasted peanuts, and we fully
propose to have a mussel-bake every year!
At a business meeting held during the assembly, Rev. Dr. Stratton was
re-elected to the presidency of the Pacific Coast C. L. S. C.; Dr. C. L.
Anderson, of Santa Cruz, was elected vice-president; Mrs. M. H. Field, of
San Jose, general secretary and treasurer; Miss Mary Bowman, of San Jose,
secretary of the Assembly, and Mrs. Eloise Dawson, of San Jose, treasurer
of the Assembly. Votes of thanks were given to many benefactors and to
retiring officers, especially to Miss M. E. B. Norton, who has given our
Branch the most faithful and untiring service.
Our newly elected executive committee consists of Rev. C. C. Stratton,
D.D., San Jose, president; C. L. Anderson, M.D., vice-president, Santa
Cruz; Mrs. M. H. Field, general secretary, San Jose; Mrs. Eloise Dawson,
San Jose, treasurer; Rev. J. H. Wythe, D.D., Oakland; Prof. H. B. Norton,
San Jose; Rev. I. H. Dwinelle, Sacramento; G. M. Ames, Oakland; Miss
Lucy Washburn, San Jose; Prof. Josiah Keep, Alameda; Mrs. L. J.
Nusbaum, Sacramento; Rev. C. D. Barrows, San Francisco; Mrs. S. E.
Walton, Yuba City; Mrs. Julia Leal, Los Angeles; Mrs. E. M. McCowen,
Ukiah; Clarke Whittier, M.D., Riverside; Mrs. E. A. Gibbs, Santa Rosa;
Miss M. E. B. Norton, San Jose.

MONTEAGLE ASSEMBLY.

By Rev. J. H. WARREN.

Monteagle Assembly is located at Monteagle, Grundy County, Tenn., on
the top of Cumberland Mountain, fifteen miles from Cowan, between
Sewanee and Tracy City, immediately on the railroad owned and managed
by the Tennessee Coal, Iron and Railroad Company. Cowan is a small
village on the Nashville and Chattanooga Railroad, eighty-four miles from
Nashville and sixty-four miles from Chattanooga. The ride up the mountain
from Cowan to the Assembly grounds is one of the most picturesque in this
country. The ascent for the first nine miles is 1,100 feet. The Assembly
owns a hundred acres of land, which have been laid out into parks, drives,
avenues, and building lots. About twenty-five acres have already been
improved, and quite a number of lots have been sold to individuals upon
which to build cottages. An amphitheater, capable of seating 2,000 persons,
on the plan of the one at Chautauqua, has been erected. Within a very short
distance of the Assembly grounds is some of the most magnificent
mountain scenery to be found in any country. The elevation is 2,140 feet
above the sea level. The Assembly is strictly undenominational. Each
Christian denomination is entitled to four members in the board of trustees,
provided they have as many members of the Assembly. The charter
prohibits it from being managed for the pecuniary interest of any person or
persons.
The first annual meeting of the Assembly has closed. It was a success
beyond our most sanguine expectation. The Normal School and Teachers’
Retreat opened July 2, and closed August 4. These schools were all well
attended. More than one hundred and fifty teachers attended the Normal
alone. About fifty-two studied elocution. These teachers were from several
States, and a more intelligent class I have never seen collected together
anywhere.

The Assembly opened July 17, and closed August 6. At the opening
service there were 1,000 people present. The attendance was good during
the entire Assembly. At one time on the grounds there were twenty-one
States and nineteen Christian denominations represented.
In the program, two days were given to temperance, one day to Y. M. C.
A. work, two days to missions, foreign and domestic, and two days to
education. The meetings throughout were of great interest.
Out of the large number of speakers on the program only four or five
failed to attend.
The Sunday-school normal instruction, the children’s meetings, and Mr.
Van Lennep’s “Oriental and Biblical Museum” were interesting features of
the Assembly.
But I desire to call special attention to the work of the C. L. S. C. at
Monteagle. We recognize this as an institution in this country. It is fast
finding its way into many of our Southern homes, and bringing sunshine
and blessings to many hearts.
At our solicitation, Dr. J. H. Vincent was present two or three days of the
Assembly, and represented the C. L. S. C. His words of wisdom and cheer
were a joy to many hearts. There were twenty members of the C. L. S. C.
present to greet him. This number was increased to seventy before the
Assembly adjourned.
A permanent organization was perfected, with Miss Emma Brown,
Memphis, Tenn., president, and Miss Anna W. Thomas, Memphis, Tenn.,
secretary. The idea is to have annual meetings at Monteagle.
Each member went away determined to organize local circles at their
homes, so that when we return next year, if permitted to do so, the members
will have swelled from fifty to five hundred. We hope Dr. Vincent will favor
us with his presence each year.
During the Assembly a number of C. L. S. C. Round-Tables were held,
which were profitable, socially and intellectually.

On the evening of July 21 was held the first C. L. S. C. camp-fire at
Monteagle, under the leadership of Dr. Vincent. The speeches and songs
were full of inspiration and good cheer. We only regret that hundreds of our
people in the South were not present to enjoy the meetings with us, and take
fresh courage and inspiration for the work of life.
Miss Thomas, our secretary, has been instructed to correspond with all
members of the C. L. S. C., who were at Monteagle, and all others whose
names and post-office addresses she can get. She would be glad to have the
names of all who are interested in this work. We desire to arrange for some
organized effort to push this work out into the many homes of our country.
Let every city, town, and village, and neighborhood, organize a circle.
Those members of the C. L. S. C., who were at Monteagle, have
determined to erect a Hall of Philosophy, that we may have a place in which
to hold our meetings each year. This can be done very easily by a little co-
operative effort.
All things considered, the Assembly was quite a success. The outlook is
encouraging. Although located in the South, it is not a Southern institution,
it is for the public good. Let the people come from the North, South, East,
and West; all will be equally welcome. Life is too short to harbor
animosities. Let us enter the struggles and conflicts of life like heroes and
heroines. As a nation, we have a grand work before us to elevate our people
socially, morally, religiously, and intellectually. Monteagle proposes to do
her part. Will the good people of this country stand by us in this noble
work? If you will, success is sure. There is no other enterprise of the kind in
the South. The people are united. Give us your prayers and co-operation. If
you desire to do good with your money, take hold of Monteagle Assembly.
To the sister assemblies over the land, we send words of greeting. To all
the members of the C. L. S. C. throughout this broad land we extend the
right hand of fellowship. For the unity, peace, and the uplifting of our
people, and the establishing of Christ’s kingdom, may we all be united,
heart and hand, in Christian love and sympathy.

MONONA LAKE ASSEMBLY.
No one can estimate the extent to which the C. L. S. C. is growing. One
State after another surrenders to its influence. During the past year
Wisconsin has taken hold of the work, and is now showing a wonderful
interest in the studies of the “home college.” The little text-books have
found their way into many a quiet family, and are beginning to
revolutionize society in every city, village, and country neighborhood.
This fact was shown very clearly at the Assembly held at Monona Lake,
near Madison, Wisconsin. Many local circles sent representatives to this
gathering to receive, through them, inspiration and strength for the work of
the coming year. The total attendance from various localities was nearly two
hundred. C. L. S. C. Day was the best of the whole session. Although an
entirely new feature, yet the people became so enthused that about a
thousand called for circulars of information, and many joined the Circle
before they left the grounds.
Rev. A. H. Gillet, the president of the Monona Lake Branch, delivered
the annual address, in which he explained most admirably the object and
aim of the Circle. Twelve persons, who had completed the four years’
course, were present to receive their diplomas, and notwithstanding the
absence of the “Golden Gate” and the “Hall of Philosophy,” everything had
the Chautauqua appearance, and the very atmosphere was filled with classic
odors.
The camp-fire in the evening was a feature that will never be forgotten
by those present. After the feast of solid food during the day, this evening
hour was filled with real enjoyment, and many humorous speeches that
were made as the flames ascended and the sparks disappeared in the starry
dome above, served to lighten every heart, and to close the day with the
feeling that it was indeed the best of the season.
The round-table conferences, conducted by Rev. A. H. Gillet, were full
of interest. Some very important questions were discussed, and the
members present prepared for successful work in their respective homes.

The Chautauqua Songs were sung at all of these meetings, and never did
“Day is Dying in the West” sound more sweetly than at Monona Lake.
But of all the exercises connected with the Circle, the Sunday evening
vesper services were the best. Here was shown the real secret of
Chautauqua success. Nearly every member, engaged during the week in
gathering knowledge of art, science and literature, was found in his place on
Sunday evening, lifting his heart to God, and showing thereby that we
“keep our Heavenly Father in our midst.”
The organization of Monona Lake Branch was perfected by the election
of Rev. A. H. Gillet as president, and Mrs. William Millard, of Milwaukee,
secretary. An executive committee was appointed to arrange the plans for
next year. We look forward to good reports from this daughter of
Chautauqua, and give her a hearty welcome.

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

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

LAKESIDE ASSEMBLY.
A regular “C. L. S. C. Day” was provided for in the program at the
Lakeside, Ohio, Sunday-school encampment, and the “recognition of the
Class of ’83” arranged for. The absence of Rev. J. H. Vincent, D.D., was an
unexpected and greatly lamented interruption to our plans. But the
inspiration of the “Chautauqua Idea,” which Lakeside has caught and
thoroughly incorporated into its own fiber, did not allow a dampening of
ardor, and so the “day” went on as days will, and especially such sunny
days by Lake Erie as that was. Happily Lewis Miller, Esq., President of the
C. L. S. C., was persuaded to remain a while and lend his cheery face, his
wise words and his authoritative presence to the occasion.
A large audience, filling the capacious Auditorium, assembled, the
members of the Class of ’83 took seats on the platform, and President
Miller occupied the chair. After opening exercises in the use of the
responsive services provided, copies of which were distributed among the
audience, addresses were delivered by Rev. Dr. Hartupee, Rev. Dr. Worden,
Prof. Frank Beard, and Rev. B. T. Vincent. After these had concluded,
President Miller called the members of the class to their feet, and in a neat
and appropriate address “recognized” them thereby as graduates of the
Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle, as part of the great class of
fourteen hundred for the current year. A round-table was also held,
conducted by Rev. B. T. Vincent, at which the subject of C. L. S. C. work
was taken up by those present, and treated in a most practical manner.
Representatives from several local circles gave outlines of their plans of
work, and questions from interested students as to methods, etc., brought
forth suggestive answers, awakening new interest in the subject of study,
and stirring the uninitiated, of whom many were present, into an interest in
the work. A Sunday evening C. L. S. C. vesper service was also most
interesting. On the last evening of the encampment, Bishop Hurst, who was
present, applied the subject of general reading as represented in the C. L. S.
C. in its relation to a firmer religious texture in Christian character, in a
ringing address which did much toward awakening new interest in this great
work. The enthusiasm excited by the meetings in this behalf was cordially

felt by Lakeside people, and it is determined to make the “recognition” of
the class of the current year, and also the round-table, features of the annual
program hereafter.
Surrounded as Lakeside is by an immense area filled with studious and
enterprising people who are taking hold of the C. L. S. C. readings, and who
are finding their special center of summer gathering there, this provision
will be a source of great gratification to them, and a means of extending
these benefits to many who only thus are brought into contact with this
agency of Christian intelligence and popular culture.

MOUNTAIN LAKE PARK ASSEMBLY.
The fifth annual session of this Assembly lasted ten days, August 7-17.
Some will recall the fact that the institution was established in the
Cumberland Valley, Pennsylvania, and was held there for three successive
years. Last year the experiment was made of holding the meeting in the
Glades, at the new resort called Mountain Lake Park, Maryland. The new
field was so full of promise and hope that it was at once determined to make
it the center of the movement henceforth. The place is unique in some of its
features, situated in the midst of a series of table-land glades, between the
peaks of the Alleghenies, in the vicinity of some most romantic and stirring
scenery, and possessing an atmosphere abounding in stimulation and vigor.
Two years ago the region was an uninhabited wilderness, with the
Baltimore and Ohio Railroad resort, Deer Park, on one side three miles
away, and Oakland, the county seat of Garrett County, two miles to the
west. Now it is a summer settlement abounding in picturesque cottages,
beautiful drives, and linked to a Sunday-school Assembly and to “summer
schools” of various sorts for all time to come.
The lecture course of the session just past was of a high order. It
included three superb addresses from Dr. Lyman Abbott, full of vigorous
thought, religious ardor, and primed and charged with suggestiveness
—“Why I believe in God, in Christ, and in the Bible.” Prof. Cumnock gave
two magnificent entertainments in the shape of readings and recitations.
Prof. Young, of Princeton, delighted us with three illustrated astronomical
lectures; and the Rev. Jesse Bowman Young gave three tours, illustrated
also with the stereopticon: “The Marvels of Colorado,” “London and Paris,”
and “From Dan to Beersheba.” Prof. Harris, on the “Wrong side of the
Moon,” Dr. Huntley, on the “Amen Corner,” Bishop Andrews, on “The
Method of the New Testament Law,” and Dr. Payne, with two lectures, all
did their best work, and earned and received high appreciation.
The normal classes were under the instruction of Rev. J. B. Young, Rev.
J. T. Judd, Rev. J. Vance, and Prof. Elliott of Baltimore. The lessons were

chosen in part from Dr. Vincent’s “Normal Outlines,” and in part were
prepared by Mr. Judd.
Rev. Mr. Young conducted two enthusiastic and interesting services
during the closing days of the Assembly, developing the “Chautauqua
Idea.” Drs. Frysinger, Van Meter, and Leech, Messrs. Judd, Vance, Baldwin,
Lindsey, and others, made capital addresses, bringing out as phases of this
“Idea” the following elements: home study, Bible study, normal work, study
of the classics, of literature, of the sciences.
On the last night of the Assembly at Mountain Lake Park the C. L. S. C.
was organized, with over fifty members, Rev. J. T. Judd, of Harrisburg, Pa.,
being elected president, and Miss Jennie M. Jones, of the same city,
secretary.
Thus from the tip-top of the Alleghenies we send out greetings to other
Chautauquans, and join in the glorious work which is in marvelous measure
leavening the land.

NEW ENGLAND ASSEMBLY.
The “Chautauqua Idea” is taking deep root in the soil of New England.
Four years ago the first Assembly was held on the grounds of the
Framingham Campmeeting Association. There was a fair attendance, and
considerable enthusiasm. Each year has been an improvement. The number
in attendance has been greater, and the interest has been on the increase.
This year has been the best of all. Almost from the first the lodging
accommodations were taxed to their utmost in providing for the
unexpectedly large numbers. The gentleman in charge of the dormitory
stated to the writer that he had a greater rush the first day of the Assembly,
this year, than he had the first week of last year. Thus it continued during
the ten days. It is therefore safe to conclude, that in a financial way, the
meeting was a success beyond its predecessors.
The work of the various departments was done efficiently by Dr.
Vincent, in charge, assisted by Dr. Hurlbut, and Prof. Holmes, at the head of
the normal classes; Prof. Sherwin at the front with a magnificent chorus of
nearly two hundred voices; Frank Beard with a drawing class of one
hundred and fifty; and the platform occupied by such men as Prof.
Richards, Dr. Lyman Abbott, Dr. Angell, Wallace Bruce, Dr. Hull, Dr. J. B.
Thomas, Dr. Tiffany, Prof. Young, A. O. Van Lennep, and others. A feast of
good things was to be expected, and we were not disappointed.
One of the enjoyable features of the Assembly was Rev. O. S. Baketel’s
lecture on “Sights and Insights at Chautauqua,” illustrated with eighty
stereopticon views. They were shown with the calcium light, and an
audience of four thousand people sat for an hour and three quarters, hearing
and seeing. It created a great deal of interest, both with old Chautauquans
and the many who have never seen Chautauqua.
Prof. Sherwin had several very excellent soloists, and his chorus was
exceptionally fine.
One of the new buildings this year is the C. L. S. C. office. This is a very
neat structure, and greatly appreciated by those having in charge the C. L.

S. C. It was usually crowded during office hours. About five hundred
members of the Circle were present during the Assembly. One hundred and
sixty-five joined the Class of 1887. Thirty-eight members of the graduating
class were present and received their diplomas from the hands of Dr.
Vincent. The Class of 1884 are thoroughly organized, and are looking
forward to a grand time when next year’s bells shall ring in their festal day.
As usual, Mrs. Rosie M. Baketel had charge of the C. L. S. C. office.
This is her third year in this position. She is one of the hardest workers on
the grounds.
The presence of Dr. Vincent is always an inspiration to a Framingham
audience. Though compelled to return to Chautauqua after the opening, he
gave us a grand “send-off,” and his presence and labors when he returned
again were greatly enjoyed.
One of 1882.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The paths are many up the slope,
And many of the mind,
We catch the flying clue of hope

We catch the flying clue of hope,
And wander where they wind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Too long, too late—the splendor went
O ’ h d h l

Or e’er we reached the goal;
But a splendor had dawned that will never be spent
That day on either soul.

VEGETABLE VILLAINS.

By R. TURNER.

THE PLANT COMMUNITY AND ITS VILLAINS.

No paradise could be complete for us without a pervading freshness of
green in wood and field. In lazy moods and calm sunshiny weather there are
few men who will not condescend to stretch out their limbs under a
spreading beech, or at least to envy one who is taking life easily for a time
in the shade. We all know what a pleasant faint rustle of leaves there is
above, and what a flickering of mellowed sunlight comes over the eyes, and
how these steal into the heart with a sense of soft content, till we are apt to
become like little children, enjoying without much thought, yielding
ourselves up to the delight of the mere living, letting our consciousness
float along lazily on the current of being. But if we can in such
circumstances nerve ourselves to reflect just a little, we shall—if we
possess even a very slight knowledge of the processes of nature—become
conscious that there are great silent energies and activities at work around
us in every blade of grass, and above us in the cool green foliage. The
leaves have myriads of invisible little mouths eagerly drinking in the unseen
air, and the minute grains that give the green color to these leaves are all the
while laying hold of the infinitesimal percentage of carbonic acid impurity
in that air, and, invigorated by the quickening sunlight, are able to tear this
gaseous impurity to pieces, to wrench the two elements that form it asunder,
making the one into nutriment for themselves, and letting the other go free
in its purity into the wide atmosphere. What man—with all his sound and
fury, his hammering and clanking—has never achieved, is thus quietly done
in summer days by every green leaf in God’s world, and inorganic matter is
forced to live. While the sun shines these honest workers are striving with
all their might to lay hold of every atom of this gas that fouls the
atmosphere for animals, and thus, while finding food for themselves, they
are keeping the air sweet and pure for other living things. The necessity is

laid on them to maintain themselves by honest work; and it is interesting to
reflect how massive are the material results that gather round their task. We
are apt to forget that by far the greater part of the solid matter of vegetation
—of the giant trees of California as well as of the tiniest grasses and green
herbs—is thus gathered atom by atom from the atmosphere. One eats his
potato thankfully, usually without bothering himself much as to how it
came to be a potato; how the green leaves labored away, seizing the scanty
atoms of an invisible gas and making them into starch; how this insoluble
starch became a soluble thing, and melting away into the sap flowed
through the stem to the tubers, there to form again into little grains and be
laid up for future use. The rest of the nourishment of such honest plants is
usually derived from the soil. The more stimulating food—within certain
limits—that crops, for instance, take up by the roots, the harder do their
green parts work in the sunlight, making starch and kindred substances out
of what they can snatch from the atmosphere. Hence the value of manures;
they are stimulants to increased endeavor. Such honest, hard-working plants
form by far the greater bulk of vegetation, and of those that grow on land
nearly all are conspicuously green. Sometimes—but rarely—the green is
disguised a little by another color associated with it, or some tint that is but
skin-deep. Take a leaf of the copper beech, for instance, scratch the surface,
and you will find the honest green beneath. Even the despised field-weeds,
that come up wherever man digs or plows, and linger lovingly about his
agriculture, so be it that they are green, are honest in their way, and only
take hold of what earth they can find to root in, that they may participate
with their fellows in the blessings to be got and given by keeping the
atmosphere pure. Man wants to grow grain, or something of the kind, where
they prefer to grow, and so, as they foul his husbandry, he ruthlessly roots
them out, or tries at least. It is their misfortune that man does not wish them
there; but still, contemned creatures as they are, they have honest ways
about them, and every green grain in their being is struggling hard to do
something genuinely useful. It is only an earnest striving to hold their own
against man and brute, that makes humble nettles clothe themselves with
stings full of formic acid and fury, and rude thistles bristle with a sharp
nemo me impune lacessit at every prickle point. They are armed for defense,
not aggression. It is not of stuff such as this that vegetable villains are made.

Since there is so much honesty, however, in the plant world, rogues, and
thieves, and pilferers must abound. Consider the animal kingdom. Where
herds of deer roam in the wilds there beasts of prey are on the prowl, or
sportsmen stalk with murderous guns in hand. Where herrings and pilchards
crowd in shoals clouds of gulls and gannets hover, and porpoises with
rapacious maws tumble and roll about. Where earthworms abound there
moles with ravenous appetite are furiously driving mines, or birds that have
sharp, quick bills keep watch with keen eyes. And so in this honest plant
community, preying on it and pilfering from it, live and flourish hosts of
vegetable villains; some without a trace of green in their whole being, living
by theftuous practices alone; some with just the faintest suspicion of green
and the slightest indications of a true nature; others with a good deal of the
better color about them, but still only indifferently honest. There is
something of marvel and mystery about these plant pilferers—of strange
peculiarities in their modes of life, and in their adaptations for plundering
and preying, which can hardly fail to interest intelligent minds, even when
brought before them in a sketch such as this, which does not profess to take
in more than the outermost fringe of a wide field. Without terms and
technicalities and a strange jargon of crabbed words that would be dry as
dust, and meaningless to most readers, little professing to be thorough can
be done; yet, after all, something more generally comprehensive may ooze
through in comparatively plain English.
With regard to their pilfering habits, such plants are usually proportioned
off into two great groups. They either attach themselves to other beings and
absorb their juices, in which case they form a mighty host of plants of prey
usually known as parasites; or they seek their nurtriment, and find it, in
dead and decaying organisms, and are then known as saprophytes, a
somewhat hard word to begin with, for which I can not find a popular
equivalent, but which merely signifies plants that grow on decomposing
matter. All land plants that are not blessed with a true green color belong to
one or other of these groups, and are villains in their various degrees. They
make no effort to free the air from the gaseous impurity that haunts it, but,
like animals, they keep fouling it instead. With a very few exceptions, all of
them subsist on organic matter in some form, and this they usually draw
from the plants, living or dead, on which they grow, or from decaying
matter in the soil. But many of these vegetable villains run into half-honest

vagaries, and succeed in raising themselves slightly above the common
ruck. If they can not seize and break up carbonic acid gas, they may do a
little toward atmospheric purification of a kind by laying fast hold on such
organic particles as are floating in the air or brought to them in falling
moisture. Plants such as these are sometimes found growing on barren sand,
on hard gravel, on parapets of bridges, on leaden cisterns, on plastered
walls, on slag, and in like inhospitable places, where they are compelled to
turn mainly to the atmosphere and trickling moisture for food. Some such
haunt mines like phosphorescent ghosts, others make themselves at home
on places like the dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral. In a mass two feet in length,
similar strange plants were one morning long ago found by a smith on a
piece of iron that he had taken, on the previous night, red-hot from his fire,
and laid on his water trough. Many similar vagaries they run into that would
in the telling sound almost incredible. Indeed, the whole group of the
saprophytes is not to be accounted so utterly abandoned as that of the
parasites. To these they are certainly nearly related, but there is more of the
useful scavenger about them than of the useless thief. No sooner has death
overtaken any plant than a host of them set to work to clear away the now
useless organism from the world, breaking down herbaceousness into
putrescence, timber into touchwood, and all at last into vegetable mould.
Their mission is to seize upon decaying matter and endow it with life in a
new form; and thus out of rottenness often comes wholesomeness, decay
moulding itself into pleasant mushrooms, or into things unfit for human
food perhaps, but that may bring the blessings of abundance to many little
living creatures. If such as are edible are to be considered villains, then
people of delicate palate who smack their lips over some of them have a
right to insist that these should be specially classed as dainty little rogues.
Still this useful scavengering habit is nearly allied to the pilfering one.
Decay attacks part of a tree, for instance, and saprophytes set to work at the
dead branch, but they are apt to extend their operations to the adjoining
living tissues, which die, too, and decay, till in the end the tree may be
entirely destroyed. The scavenger, we can thus understand, is apt on
occasion to relapse into the thief and the out-and-out villain.
To one or other of these two great groups, or occasionally to both,
belong, besides a few flowering plants, the whole extensive division of the
fungi, and it is to be noted that none of this curious class of plants is ever

blessed with leaf-green or starch in any part of its substance. Whether
minute even under powerful microscopes or measuring several feet across;
whether hard as wood or a mere mass of jelly; whether horny, fleshy, or
leathery; whether resisting the action of the elements for years or hardly
able to outlive a puff of wind; whether beautiful, commonplace, or ugly;
whether sweet-scented or otherwise, in this they agree, that in all of them is
wanting that greenness which makes honest work possible, and those little
grains of starch that come from honest work done.—Good Words.

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

SLAVONIC MYTHOLOGY.[B]

By ADLEY H. CUMMINGS.

The mythology of various tribes and races has of late attracted much
attention, while that of our own ancestors of the North has been studied with the
greatest care.
Little attention, however, has been devoted to the religious belief of the
ancient Slavonic race, and yet it is replete with interest for all who yield to the
fascination of ancient myth.
We unfortunately possess no Slavic Edda, or Veda, to throw illumination
upon the ancient creed of the tribes, but a few scattered facts have come down
to modern times—principally contained in popular songs—but sufficient to
enable us to observe the similarity between Slavonic mythology and that of the
other members of the Indo-European stock—all pointing to that immensely
ancient time when the ancestors of the combined race could have been gathered
within the circuit of the same camp; when they passed the same lives and
worshiped the same divinities; wept when the “serpents of the night” strangled
the god appointed to preside over the day, and rejoiced together with an
exceeding great joy when the day-god, victorious over his foes, gilded the hills
again.
In Slavonic tradition Swarog is represented as the most ancient of their gods,
as the one who was originally—before Perkunas—the supreme deity of those
tribes, corresponding to Sanskrit Surya, like Helios in Greece, the dweller in the
orb of the sun. Swarog was the pervading, irresistible luminary, the solar deity,
par excellence, of the race, and vague recollections of him still exist. In some
places Swarog seems to have yielded to another solar deity, Dazhbog, the god of
fruitfulness, represented as the son of Swarog.
The etymological signification of Dazhbog is the “day-god.” With him, as a
representative of the sun, was a god named Khors—probably, however, but
another name of the day-god.

Ogon, answering closely to Sanskrit Agni, Latin, ignis (fire), was the god of
fire, brother of Dazhbog; his worship was principally connected with the
domestic hearth.
But the deity who stands out most prominently, who became the supreme
divinity of the race, though corresponding to the Scandinavian Thor, was
Perkunas, or Perun, whose name, yielding to certain laws of phonetic change,
may correspond to Greek Keraunos (thunder), but more closely to Sanskrit
Parjanya, called in the Rig-Veda, “The thunderer, the showerer, the bountiful,
who impregnates the plants with rain.” This god was forgotten by the Hellenic
Aryans, who exalted Dyaus (Zeus, Jove) to the supreme position, but the Letto-
Slavonic tribes bestowed upon him the endearing appellation of the “All-
Father,” a title which they only conferred upon the creator of the lightnings. It is
said that the Russians still say, when the thunder rolls, “Perkuna gromena;” in
Lithuanian, “Perkuns grumena.”
The South-Slavic term for the rainbow is “Perunika,” “Perun’s flower,” or
“beauty.”
“White-Russian traditions,” says Afanasief,[C] “describe Perun as tall and
well shaped, with black hair and a long golden beard. He rides in a flaming car,
grasping in his left hand a quiver full of arrows, and in his right a fiery bow.”
He is also represented as carrying a mace, answering to Thor’s hammer,
mjolnir.
After the introduction of Christianity the prophet Elijah became credited
with many of the honors and functions of Perkunas. He was termed, “Gromovit
Ilija” (Thunder Elijah), and the origin of the notion, and the strange
metamorphosis of that sweet spirit into a Boanerges, undoubtedly lie in his
flight to heaven in a chariot of fire, and in his power, when on earth, of calling
down fire from heaven, and of bringing the rain. Thus, II. Kings, i:10, he says,
“If I be a man of God, then shall fire come down from heaven and consume thee
and thy fifty.” Again, Kings, i., 18:41, “And Elijah said unto Ahab: Get thee up;
eat and drink, for there is a sound of abundance of rain.”
The Slavs considered that the thunder and lightning were given into the
prophet’s hands, and that he closed the gates of heaven, i. e., the clouds, to
sinful men, who thus might not share in his blessed reign. There is evidence of
the same belief among the Teutonic tribes, and in the old High-German poem,
“Muspilli,” a form of that saga which prevailed throughout all the middle ages

with regard to the appearance of anti-Christ shortly before the end of the world.
Elijah takes the place which Thor assumes in Scandinavian myth at Ragnarok,
and fights the evil one:

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

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

The poem then proceeds to say that Elijah shall be wounded, and recounts the
many signs and wonders that shall occur before the Muspell-doom, the
Judgment Day.
Volos, or Veles, was another solar deity. It has been held that the Greek
Helios appears in this name, while others have identified him with Odin, or
Woden, pronounced with an epenthetic l, and with other changes, but the
etymology seems far-fetched.
He was the special protector of cattle. The name survives to Christian times
in St. Blasius. Mr. Ralston says: “In Christian times the honors originally paid
to Volos were transferred to his namesake, St. Vlas, or Vlasy (Blasius), who was
a shepherd by profession. To him the peasants throughout Russia pray for the
safety of their flocks and herds, and on the day consecrated to him (February
11) they drive their cows to church, and have them secured against misfortune
by prayer and the sprinkling of holy water. . . . Afanasief considers that the
name was originally one of the epithets of Perun, who, as the cloud-compeller
—the clouds being the cattle of the sky—was the guardian of the heavenly
herds, and that the epithet ultimately became regarded as the name of a distinct
deity.”
By the names of Volus and Perun the Russians used to swear and confirm
their sayings and treaties by oath.
Stribog was the wind-god. According to Russian ideas the four winds are the
sons of one mother, and in the Old-Russian Igor song the wind is addressed as
Sir. These winds are called Stribog’s grandsons. So in India, the winds are
regarded as sentient beings; thus in the Nalopákhyánam:

“Thus adjured, a solemn witness, spake the winds from out the air.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Even as thus the wind was speaking, flowers fell showering all around,
And the gods’ sweet music sounded on the zephyr light.”

Byelbog and Chernobog, the representatives of light and darkness, are of
antagonistic nature—the warring principles of good and evil. Byelbog is the
white, shining god, the bringer of the day, the benignant Phœbus, while
Chernobog, a black god, belongs to the diabolical order.
The goddess of spring and love was Lada—corresponding closely to Freya
in the Scandinavian traditions. Lovers and the newly married addressed their
prayers to her, praising her name in songs. Lado, the Slavonic counterpart of
Norse Freyr, has many of the same attributes as the goddess Lada, to whom the
same adoration and praise were offered. Mr. Ralston says that “one Lithuanian
song distinctly couples the name Lado with that of the sun. A shepherd sings, ‘I
fear thee not O wolf! The god with the sunny curls will not let thee approach.
Lado, O Sun-Lado!’ In one of the old chronicles Lado is mentioned as the god
of marriage, of mirth, of pleasure, and of general happiness, to whom those
about to marry offered sacrifices in order to secure a fortunate union.”
Kupàlo was the god of harvests, and before the harvest—on the 23d of June
—sacrifices were offered to him. Young people lighted fires and danced around
them in the evening, adorned with garlands of flowers, singing harvest ditties to
the god. This custom still survives in the fires kindled on St. John’s eve, through
which sometimes the people jump and drive their cattle. The Poles and other
Slavonians, especially in remote districts, keep up many of their ancient heathen
rites.
The 24th of December was sacred to the goddess Kolyada, a solar deity, to
whom songs were sung in celebration of the renewed life of the sun after the
winter solstice “when the gloom of the long winter nights begins to give way to
the lengthening day.” This festival became blended with the Christmas
celebration upon the advent of Christianity, and songs are still to be heard at that
time containing the name of the goddess, as
Kolyada! Kolyada!
Kolyada has arrived
On the eve of the Nativity.

These ditties are called Kolyadki.
Inferior deities were believed in and many supernatural beings were
supposed to haunt the woods and waters. The Russalkas, which are naiads,
though no more seen, are still believed in, and are of a nature similar to the
elves and fairies of western nations. “They are generally represented under the
form of beauteous maidens, with full and snow-white bosoms, and with long
and slender limbs. Their feet are small, their eyes are wild, their faces are fair to
see, but their complexion is pale, their expression anxious. Their hair is long
and thick and wavy, and green as is the grass.” The Russians are very
superstitious in regard to them, fearing to offend them, while the maidens go
into the woods and throw garlands to them, asking for rich husbands in return.
Then there are Mavkas, or Little-Russian fairies and water-nymphs, wood
demons, house spirits and numerous other minor spirits and powers which teem
in the folk songs of the peasants.
Among the eastern Slavs there seem to have been no temples or priests,
while the contrary was true of the west. They burned their dead and greatly
reverenced the spirits of the departed, in whose honor festivals were held.
A form of Sutteeism undoubtedly prevailed, widows destroying themselves
in order to accompany their husbands to the spirit land, while slaves were
sometimes sacrificed upon the same occasions—a practice common to most
barbarous states of society.
Upon a general view of ancient Slavonic mythology we observe the same
characteristics as among all the other Indo-European tribes—the same nature-
worship and inclination to personify the powers of the air and sky; to worship
the beneficent sun, which brings to man prosperity, light and happiness; to
execrate the night, the enemy of the bright, the beautiful god of day. Men in the
childhood of the human race were as simple as children ever have been. The
same characteristics mark them. When the mother leaves her child for a
moment, the babe with piteous cries calls on her to return. Why is this so?
Because in the mind of the child there is no connecting link between the ideas
of her going and returning; in other words, the child cannot reason enough to
consider it possible—not to say probable, certain—that she will return.
Thus in the simple pastoral days of extreme antiquity, when the glorious sun,
the light of men’s eyes, the joy of their hearts, sank below the horizon, the idea

of its return failed to suggest itself to their minds. Each sun-setting was a grief,
each rising of the blessed orb a joy unspeakable.
And thus upon the plains of Iran, in the flowery meads of Asia Minor and on
the Russian steppes, when man beheld the sun, his joy appeared, he fell on his
face and thanked the regent of the sky for his light again.
Had the earth been nearer to the sun the face of Comparative Mythology had
been changed; the sun-myth would have had to seek a different origin and
home, and the history of that greatest of all studies—the study of man—would
have had a different course.
It is sincerely to be hoped that the future of the Slavonic tribes may be such
as God and nature have intended for them, and that their name may be changed
again from slaves to Slavs—“men of glory”—is the aspiration of all who have
hopes for the race; in short, of all who wish well to our common humanity.

FOOTNOTES:
[B] Extract from a lecture delivered at Pacific Grove Assembly, July, 1883,
Monterey, California.
[C] Ralston, “Songs of the Russian People,” from whom much information
contained in this sketch is gained.

FROM THE BALTIC TO THE ADRIATIC.

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

We hesitated quite awhile before deciding to expend fifty thalers for a
trip from Berlin to Danzig, finally concluding that the historical interest of
Marienburg, through which we would pass on our return, and the reputed
picturesqueness of Danzig would compensate us for the time and money. At
an early hour one September morning we drove across the busiest portion
of Berlin (and most unknown to the traveler), to take our train at the ost
bahn. I had seen this portion of the large city once before, when we started
to visit the country of the Wends, the original people in all the region by the
Baltic.
The tedious stretch of sand (broken here and there by a peasant’s house
with red tile roof), was the same we had traversed so often in leaving Berlin
for a neighboring town or city, the inevitable “plains of Moab” which
discouraged Frederick the Great’s French gardeners. How such a thriving,
populous city as Berlin has ever asserted itself in the sand, is a curious
study. We passed Bismarck’s estate in Pomerania, “Schönhausen,” and one
of the party reflected upon the great statesman, the largest factor in German
political life; while the other remembered the sad and dejected royal pair
which was driven by Napoleon’s fury to take this same route to Memel. The
lovely Queen Louise and Frederick William III. were there with their royal
children, praying that the tyrant’s hand might be stayed, and they brought
back to their rightful kingdom. Alas! death claimed the beautiful queen
before the peace for which she prayed was restored to Prussia. But in her
son, the present emperor, there has been perpetuated the spirit of his mother.
Prussia’s high position to-day has been secured not altogether by the might
of her great army, nor the tremendous genius of her great statesmen, nor the
ambition of her king, but by the growth of sentiment during the reigns of
Frederick William III. and IV., and by the precept Queen Louise instilled

into her sons during those dark and sorrowful days of exile in Memel: “My
sons, let the spirit of Frederick the Great animate you,” etc.
Memel, Tilsit, and Königsberg were passed, and finally the blue Baltic
and Danzig were in sight. We had almost looked for amber-colored water,
so long had we associated the beautiful display of amber jewels in the
Berlin shop windows with the Baltic, from which it is taken. Even Homer
refers to the Baltic as the resting place of amber, its bed being laid with the
sunny stone.
A multitude of ship-masts rose from the coast, and from beyond the
pointed gables of the old city, lessening in altitude as the vista lengthened.
This first glimpse was a more fascinating picture than we were afterward
able to find. Yet the hotel helped the preconceived idea that Danzig was
really a second Nuremberg.
The broad stone steps, or stairway, which started from the portecochère,
were whitened by ashes, as one so often sees them in Germany—a pretty
state of things for a lady descending in a black dress. The room we were to
occupy was an immense ball-room, utilized in quiet times for a bed-room.
Two candles burned in their tall candlesticks on the center-table, and by the
light of the twilight we could see across the street some beautiful and
curious carvings in the opposite gabled houses. The price paid for
accommodations was large enough to have enabled us to see castles in the
air, and to have our ball-room illuminated with gas until morning. We
concluded they seldom had guests in this hotel, and therefore made heavy
profits when some did come along.
That evening we wandered around the old crooked streets—paved in
cobble-stones, which wore our shoes almost in pieces—until we were glad
to pause in front of the great old red-brick cathedral. Its towers cut the big
yellow moon in two at every angle we could see them. We stretched our
heads to take in the tremendous dimensions of the cathedral, and the
ornamentations of some of the best houses, until we suddenly remembered
that it was nearing midnight, and that we had been in actual service at sight-
seeing and traveling since an early hour that morning, so we returned to our
ball-room and two candles. The next morning, we imagined, we would have
a great treat in hunting up old carved furniture, for which Danzig, we had

been told by our German friends, was equal to Augsburg; but the
antiquarians had left no place unexplored. No trace of massive-legged table
or curiously-carved chairs was to be found, save in the Museum and the
Rathhaus (Council Hall). The stairway of the Council Hall remains indeed a
monument to the ingenious designer and skillful carver, and the judge’s
chair is most curious.
A fine old convent has been turned into a museum. Its kreuz gänge, or
cross-passages, give the place a most mysterious, sequestered air, and they
are gradually collecting some great pictures and treasures within its walls.
But the Rathhaus, in its architecture, surpasses everything in Danzig,
excepting, perhaps, its fine old gateways.
The most distinguished houses in Danzig have on either side of the
entrance, at a distance of five feet, immense stones hewn out of solid rock.
They are nine feet, probably, in circumference. A chain is attached, which is
given a graceful swing before being fastened again to either side of the front
door, about as high up as the brass knocker. As these big round stones grow
smaller in perspective, they give a peculiar air to a street. They seem to be
peculiar to Danzig, unless one or two dwellings in Edinburgh have them.
The big stones, the large chains, the tremendous brass knockers, and the
innumerable windows in the six stories of the pointed gables, suggest
aristocratic dwellings, and surpass the houses in Nuremberg.
An important political meeting at Stettin defeated our intention of seeing
Marienburg on our return to Berlin. Marienburg is a place few foreigners
find out, but Lübke, in his “History of Art,” represents the architecture of
the palace occupied by the knights, or crusaders, for two centuries, as one
of the most exquisite ruins in all Germany. Thorn and Königsburg were also
homes for this order of knights.
The following day at noon it was rather refreshing to drive into so
modern and gay a place as Berlin, and forget that so many people must exist
in places like Danzig. Mediæval life seems still to enwrap them there as in a
garment. Their eyes are closed to any modern idea or project.
Berlin contains all that is new and progressive in Germany. That day as
we sat in the garden of the “Thiergarten Hotel,” eating delicious salmon, the
old emperor drove by in his open carriage, with his faithful jäger. He was

still a subject for curiosity, as it was so soon after the attempt had been
made to assassinate him, June 7, 1878. He was fired on as he drove by in
this same open carriage with this same faithful jäger. The sight of the old
emperor recalled the previous months which had been so full of political
stir in Europe. The session of the Berlin Congress, and the occupation of
Bosnia by the Austrians had taken place.
To describe Berlin to those who have not visited it, is simply telling,
generally, the size of palaces, the number of art collections, the width of
streets, the squares occupied by statues, the places of amusement, etc., but
even when these objects and interests are put in writing they leave little
impression until the place is seen. But there is another aspect of the great
Prussian capital. It is a wonderful place just now, attracting so many foreign
students to its university, the best musical talent to its conservatories, and
the first military genius within its walls. No matter what branch of study
one may choose, the instruction and illustration is right at hand. To the
student of politics it is a most fruitful field, not only because distinguished
statesmen frequent its streets every day, but because grave problems in
political science are discussed in the Reichstag or taught in the University.
The student of physics or of natural science can work under Helmholz and
others; the student of music can secure Joachim or Clara Schumann, or the
student of art, Knaus, or Richter. Berlin has no pulpit orator. The Dom is
more frequented because of its tombs than for any living influence it
extends. It contains the coffins of Frederick William the great elector, and
Frederick I., king of Prussia. The Mendelssohn choir chants its anthems,
and the emperor and empress bow at its communion table; but St. Hedwig’s
Church is better attended. The American Chapel, built by the efforts of Mr.
Whright, our American minister to the Prussian court, a devout Methodist,
is still occupied and attended by travelers of the American-English type.
The annual exhibition of pictures in the academy, the many fine
concerts, the treasures in the old museum, the Royal Library, the palaces,
and the lovely drives along “Unter den Linden,” are only mentioned to
show what Berlin does contain in the way of sights and pleasures. This
Unter den Linden, the street so well known, was planned by Frederick
William, in the seventeenth century, and is now worn by many royal
carriages and busy hurrying mortals. The street about the opera house is

crowded every morning by the eager buyers of tickets, which must be
secured in the morning.
Surely life in Berlin can be made very attractive, but after a long
residence there I am convinced that it has little religious life. The climate is
depressing, the expense of living great, two other detractions. Potsdam,
Sans Souci, Charlottenburg Tegel, and many other places in the suburbs,
are, historically and naturally, charming resorts.
It is more compensating in Europe to go from place to place with some
special work or subject in view than to go for mere sight-seeing. Your
special work brings you nearer the people. If your landlady asks you what it
is, and you take the trouble to tell her, she or some of her friends will at
once see that you know all their acquaintances who are engaged in the same
line of inquiry, and while the new acquaintances may not be socially or
intellectually your ideals, yet their conversation will help you in the
language and give you many opportunities.
Dresden I only know through hard work in the galleries, as though all its
sights are familiar—the Schloss, Green Vaults with their immense treasures,
the Military Museum, Museum of Natural History, the Grand Opera House,
the Frauenkirche, Japanese Palace, cafés, coinages and statues; yet the
picture gallery, with its priceless “Madonna di San Sisto” of Raphael is to
me the starting point of interest and the essence of Dresden life.
From eight o’clock in the morning until four o’clock in the afternoon
faithful copyists labor in the gallery. The price received for their work
scarcely keeps them from starving. To go in among them for a time and
work and feel as they do, enlarges one’s sympathies, and teaches one to
love the masterpieces of the great artists. To the uninitiated in such matters
it may be well to explain that before the permission is given to copy a
picture in any of the European galleries, a good deal of red tape must be
looked after, especially in Germany. The director demands a specimen of
the applicant’s work, which must be a study from nature, either figure or
landscape or still life. It is with considerable trepidation that the office of
the “Herr Director” is entered. If the applicant is successful, he or she
comes out with an elaborate paper containing the agreement, the name of
picture to be copied, the number, room, etc., with the director’s name and

the seal attached. One of the gallerie diener, as they are called in Germany,
takes you under his care, arranges an easel, a piece of carpet, a rest-stick
and table. You are recognized among the copyists, and the hat of every
gallerie diener is raised at your approach or departure. When you have
finished, the inspector is allowed to criticise your work. You must pay the
diener who has waited upon you some trink geld, or a fee, as we would
express it. At noon you can eat your cold lunch, in company with the other
copyists, in front of a Raphael or a Correggio, a Titian or a Rubens,
scrutinize its merits or laugh at its blunders, or speculate on the old master’s
methods of using their pigments, without being amenable to any court. An
artist’s life is a life of liberty—of thought, at least. Many of these copyists
spend their afternoons in sketching, thus establishing their originality and
emancipating themselves from servile observance of other men’s methods.
In company with these plodding, intelligent artists, I have spent many
delightful hours sketching in the “Alt Markt,” or the Zwinger, or at Sans
Souci or Charlottenburg.
I have often wondered if the little Greek church in the suburbs of
Dresden was as attractive to all travelers as to me. It is surrounded on one
side by golden wheat fields, with red poppies and dark blue corn flowers
growing among it. Its gilded dome, semi-domes, and minarets, shine like
blazing lights against the dark blue sky. The style is such pure Byzantine
and the inside so perfect in its appointments, and yet so simple; the service
conducted in so solemn and devout a spirit, there seems to be much to
impress the looker-on. There are no seats. On one side stand the women and
on the other side the men, and before the altar the patriarch, or priest. The
service is short, consisting almost entirely of singing by the men and boys,
without the aid of an instrument. When the plate is passed for the collection
it contains a roll of bread, the meaning of which I have never discovered,
although James Freeman Clark may give it in the account of the Greek
church in his “Ten Great Religions.” Their belief that the Holy Ghost
proceeds from the Father, and not from the Father and Son, seems to be the
most essential difference in prayer between the English Church and the
Greek.
A summer in the Harz Mountains, taking in Weimar and Eisenach, and
the “Wartburg,” is a charming experience. To find out that one can live in

this age in so interesting a retreat as Weimar, for twenty dollars a month,
gives back some of the simplicity to German life.
To a student of Goethe, Schiller, Wieland and Herder, no spot offers
more pleasure than the quiet, old streets and groves and houses of Weimar.
A mere drive through the park, passing Goethe’s summer house and on out
to “Tiefert,” where the Grand Duchess Amelia held her little court, and the
open air theater attracted a charming coterie to listen to Goethe or Schiller
in some representation, re-awakens the genius of the times and arouses the
appetite of the traveler for more acquaintance with the place. The next drive
or stroll through the park will prove that every stone contains some rhyme,
and every bench some association with those great men. There is a line to
Frau Von Stein in the garden of Goethe’s country house, an elegy engraved
on the stone as one ascends to the Roman house in the park. The front
approach to this house is not so attractive, but the back is a fascinating
place. It contains on the first floor an open room with round table and
benches, where the Duke and his poets sat for hours, looking over the old
stone steps into the park. A short stroll from there brings one to the large
open space, in the middle of the park, which was laid out by Goethe, and
represents precisely the dimensions of St. Peter’s in Rome. The immense
ground plot of that church is here to be recognized more definitely than
when one stands under its dome.
The grand ducal palace at Weimar contains one unique room, while all
the others are handsome. The one which differs from similar palatial
apartments is frescoed with scenes from the works of Weimar’s great poets.
The halls are silent and one longs to see little fat Karl August step out of a
saal or the Duchess Amelia greet Goethe or Schiller on the stairway as in
days of yore. Mr. Lewis, in his life of Goethe, portrays such scenes with a
graphic pen.
In 1832 the house in the Goethe-platz was left vacant by its great
occupant. Its art treasures, its library, its various collections, showing how
comprehensive Goethe’s mind was, and how many things he had
investigated, were abandoned, as all human efforts must be abandoned,
when the silent messenger calls the soul into the presence of its Great
Creator. If self-denial is required of those on earth who hope to enter into

his rest, then who can answer for Goethe? But surely the choir of angels in
“Faust” sing beautifully of it:
“Christ is arisen,
Praised be his name;
His love shared our prison
Of guilt and of shame;
He hath borne the hard trial of self-denial,
And triumphant ascends
To the hills whence he came.”
This house still stands as he left it, and is shown every Friday afternoon
to visitors. It has been occupied by his grandson for years.
The church in which Lucas Cranach’s great picture is to be seen, and in
which Herder preached, is a cold, heartless structure to a stranger, but its
very stones and walls must respond to the prayers of the old inhabitants.
The brunnen, or town well, in front of Lucas Cranach’s house, when
surrounded by a crowd of peasants offers a genre picture for an artist. The
picture gallery is new and good. A large fresco representing Weimar
celebrities is in the front entrance. Bettina Von Arnim is the only woman in
the group. Perhaps her correspondence, which is by many considered
spurious, will make the artist regret that he has given her so important a
position in this fresco. To take an early breakfast in some lovely arbor,
overlooking some historic grounds, then spend the morning in the gallery
and the afternoon in the park, and the evening at the concert, is about the
happiest program one can follow in a small German town.
Eisenach, the capital of Saxe-Weimar, a town of 10,000 inhabitants, will
always remain associated with Martin Luther. It is the principal town in the
Thuringian forest. The old “Wartburg,” one and a half miles south of the
town, is famous for its architecture and history. Martin Luther, the Elector
of Saxony, who rescued him, and earlier the saintly Elizabeth and her cruel
husband, are only a few names which are associated with it. Of course the
story of the Elector of Saxony rescuing Luther, after the Diet of Worms, is
well known. Yet who can resist dwelling upon this bold character at this
period. After the Pope’s excommunication Luther defies all threats and
starts out on his return journey, with the emperor’s promise of a safe-

conduct; the decree for arrest follows closely every step. What a picture! to
have these armed knights attack him and carry him prisoner to the old
Wartburg. Then to discover afterward that a friend’s hand, and not an
enemy’s, had done this thing. There he remained ten months, and there still
remain the traces on the wall of the ink he threw at the devil. Perhaps the
chapel, where he preached on Sundays, is a more becoming and decorous
place to associate him with than this little room, always pointed out first.
The Wartburg has been so beautifully renovated of late at the expense of
the government, it is really worth a second visit to those who may have seen
it years ago. The banquet hall is certainly superb, and the St.
Elizabethangeng, with its beautiful frescoes and long narrow proportions,
almost enables one to see the good woman walking up and down with her
prayer-book, in deep meditation, before starting out through the forest with
her attendants, and her apron full of provisions for the poor. It is told that
once, when her liege-lord met her, and inquired what she had in her apron
(he had strictly forbidden her taking things to the poor), she, with legendary
faith, opened her apron and forthwith the bread became roses.
Taking your faithful donkey which has brought you up the hill, and your
Wartburg album collection of photographs, you find yourself soon
wandering through the lovely and fantastic Annenthal, and finally resting
near the depot at Eisenach. There the untiring finger of your old guide
points to Fritz Reuter’s house, and at last to his own little bill, which he has
carefully prepared and which he expects you as carefully to pay. Never goes
money from your pocket more liberally!
The Harz Mountains, their legends and songs, have been so often written
of there is danger of stupid repetition if one goes over the ground.
A novel experience for an American is to have an attack of rheumatism
in the house of an old Polish major in midsummer, in Wernigerode, and be
attended by the physician of Count Von Stolberg. To inform those who may
be so unfortunate as to meet with a similar fate what will become of them, I
would simply remark that the subterfuge of every German doctor, when he
finds a case getting beyond his control, is to recommend a water-cure. The
one at Magdeburg being the nearest to Wernigerode, is the one which Count
Von Stolburg’s physician would be best acquainted with, so off to the old

city and farewell to the Harz! What rheumatic patient cares for a view of a
fine old cathedral from a window, or to be informed that the city has existed
since the eighth century? Do these facts lessen the pain or quiet the nerves?
After the bath has restored the patient, and he or she can walk out and
examine the cathedral, and read of the sufferings of the people in the
sixteenth or seventeenth centuries, and again how the Austrian army was
resisted by Wallenstein for seven months, and how the French besieged and
took it in 1806, and again in 1813—thus there is diversion in finding
oneself on such historic grounds and picturesque surroundings.
[To be continued.]

IN FLOWERY FIELDS.

By MARY HARRISON.

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

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

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

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

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

FAILINGS.

By J. MORTIMER GRANVILLE.

We all have our failings, and for the most part we regard them tenderly.
They do not count as offences; scarcely are they held to be faults. It is
always a probable conjecture that an error of omission has been
unintentional; not unfrequently it seems possible it was unavoidable. A
sentiment of pity for, and even sympathy with, weakness overpowers the
sense of grievance; the voice of the inward monitor is silenced, and the self-
excused conscience sleeps. Meanwhile failings are the worst and most
mischievous, the deadliest and least curable, of the ills to which the moral
nature of man is heir. They are the sources of evil whence spring the
blackest vices of human character, the false roots that nourish and sustain its
parasites, and steal the sap of its inner life. A failing is not merely negative;
its sinister aspect is one of positive wrong-doing, wherein some behest of
the will is disobeyed, a measure of moral power wasted, a rebel habit
formed or fostered. To compassionate failings in others is to beg the
question of fact for the sake of politeness; to look with leniency on the
errors which self would fain palliate, by assuming that they are
unavoidable, is to play the traitor to Truth, and let the enemy into the
citadel; whereas conscience is set to guard the nature of man from treachery
not less carefully than to protect it against assault.
Failings may be moral, mental, or physical, as they show themselves in
the character, the intellect, or the bodily habit and powers. It generally
happens that what strikes the observer as a failing is compounded of errors
in feeling, thought, and action combined. The practical question is how the
overt evil came into existence; or, if happily the failing should be detected
in an earlier stage of growth, before it has betrayed its presence by ugly
consequences, we may ask: what are the mischievous forces, where are they
at work, how can they be counteracted? Why has this person the “failing” of
a tendency to excessive indulgence in drink or the gratification of some

unbridled passion; and that individual a seeming inability to recognize and
pursue the right and honest course of conduct in the presence of any so-
called “temptation” or difficulty?
Some of the most regrettable and injurious failings which disfigure and
defame the character run through families, appearing in successive
generations and seeming to be inherited. This theory of their perpetuation is
well founded; and it has been adduced as conclusive evidence of the truth of
the hypothesis that mind, and, of course, character, is the mere outcome of
matter. The force of the argument obviously rests on the assumption that
nothing more than, or outside, matter can be transmitted from parent to
child; that a particular constitution of brain and nerve centres, a special
arrangement or combination of the elements which compose the mind-
organ, may be reproduced, and, if it is, a similarity of character will be
entailed; but as for the independent existence of mind, or spirit, that is a
pure figment of the imagination, which science will sooner or later drive
beyond the pale of credulity, and to which, even now, only a few thinkers
avowedly cling!
Let us examine this proposition at close quarters. It may be stated thus.
All we know of mind is expressed, and understood, by physical agencies
and in the formulæ of material force. Speech communicates thought, and
we think in words. The faculty of forming and employing words is a brain
function. If a particular region of the brain be injured or diseased, the power
of using language, at least in speech, is generally lost. The materialist
argues from this and many similar facts that mind is the product of matter.
He fails to perceive that the only warrantable deduction from his own data
is that mind or spirit, call it what we will, can only express itself through the
brain as an instrument. As well deny the skill or independent existence of a
musician because he can not play the full score of an opera on a flute, as
infer the non-existence of a soul from the fact that man cannot perform
intellectual work without the organ of thought—the brain!
The capacity of the instrument doubtless limits the expression, but it
supplies no measure of the power or skill of the performer, except in so far
as the use he makes of the instrument may be a bad one. This exception is
of great significance, and there will be something more to say about it
presently. Meantime it is evident that, while the range of brain-power

determines the manifestation of mind, it neither measures, nor affirms, nor
disproves the independent existence of mind. The anatomist, the
physiologist, and the chemist declare their inability to discover the traces of
a soul in the physical organism. That no more proves the non-existence of a
soul than the failure to recognize more than a certain number of planets at
any stage in the history of astronomy demonstrated that there was nothing
further to find.
The appeal against materialism lies to the instinct of common sense. If
mind were the mere outcome of matter, science would long since have
discovered some tolerably constant relation between peculiarities of
physical development and manifestations of character; whereas every step
onward in the progress of research tends to disprove the existence of any
certain dependency or connection between morals and matter. Even such
links as compose the stock-in-trade of the physiognomist and phrenologist
are shown to be illusory, except in so far as they may be the effects, rather
than the causes, of character, and are produced by culture—witness the
effects of education on facial expression in the case of criminals. The theory
of a criminal conformation of cranium has been abandoned like the silly
affectation of being able to detect an offender by his “hang-dog” or
“murderous” look.
“Failings” must be studied in the light of the lessons these facts and
considerations combine to teach. The moral question involved is one of
responsibility for the use each individual may make of the brain-power
allotted to him. The neglect to employ gifts and capacities is as grave an
error, from an ethical point of view, as their application to a bad purpose.
The servant who buried his talent in the earth was held accountable for the
failure to use it, and thereby increase its value. The parable sets forth a truth
of the highest practical interest. We are responsible for the development, by
use, of the faculties vouchsafed to us. If they are allowed to remain in
abeyance, or a rudimentary state, we are to blame for the deficiencies and
the failings to which this neglect gives rise, and are without excuse. The
obligation to act up to the level of known duty cannot be avoided. A
“failing” is an act of contempt for the law of development by use. It is
disobedience to an understood command. The fact that it is recognized
makes a failing an offence. There may be short-coming in the performance
of a good resolve. Few, if any, merely human efforts are entirely successful;

but the failure which occurs when an endeavor is made in the energy of a
resolute and well-aimed purpose is not so much a fault as insufficiency. The
rising tide reaches its highest level by successive efforts. Self-improvement
is effected in the same fashion. The motive power of persistent good
endeavor is accumulative—ever advancing like the great tidal wave of the
ocean—though the ground is conquered by short and seemingly only half-
successful advances.
Failings, however, as we are now regarding them, are excused faults in
the character which the individual makes no serious effort to repair. Some
defects, as we have seen, are inherited, and upon them it is the custom to
bestow great commiseration and little blame. Now, in truth, these are the
least pardonable, because, if they are known to have been transmitted from
parent to child, the latter has, generally, the advantage of an example, ever
present to memory, by which to correct his personal deficiencies. If the
“failing” be a vicious propensity, he can recall its hideousness, and thus
stimulate will and conscience to aid him in eradicating the fault. If it be
some form of deficiency, as indolence, lack of perseverance, want of
principle, or the like, he can study, as in the pages of history, the evil
consequences entailed by the defect, and with diligence order his own
conduct in better courses. Inherited failings are the least excusable. Even
the materialist, who claims them as the fruit of physical peculiarities, must
concede that by special culture they can be remedied, the healthy organism
being susceptible of increased development in any particular direction when
the proper stimuli are intelligently applied with a view to its improvement.
The apologist for failings which have been inherited can find no comfort in
the philosophy of materialism.
Failings which are peculiar to the individual may be less easy to detect,
and the subject of these defects is, in a measure, dependent upon experience
and the monitions of those around him for the information needed to correct
them. This should keep the wise teachable and apt to profit by the lessons
life is ever reading for their instruction. A self-reliant spirit is manly, and
therefore commendable; a self-sufficient spirit is unreasonable, and
therefore despicable. It is strange how few of us grow really wiser as we
grow older. The work of self-improvement is seldom commenced until
forced upon the judgment by some awakening experience, and this is rarely
vouchsafed until the ductile period of youth has gone by. Early in the adult

age of man his habits become rigidly formulated, and failings are then hard
to mend. A world of unhappiness and disappointment might be spared the
later years of life if the young would be warned to begin the business of
training the character before it is firmly set in the mould of circumstances,
with all the coarse elements—inherited and contracted—uneliminated, and
the errors of inconsistency and imperfect development uncorrected.
It is in the period of youth and adolescence that the mind may be most
hopefully cultivated and the moral character intelligently formed. No
greater mistake can be made by a young and vigorous mind than to treat the
faculty of reason and the instinct of moral judgment as parts of the being
which may be left to their own devices. The young man bestows some
thought on his muscular system—he trains his eye, cultivates his ear, and
takes credit for prudence when he strives to develop the vigor and to foster
the healthy growth of his body. Is it wise—nay, is it not rather the worst of
folly and shortsightedness—to neglect the ordinary development of those
higher powers which man possesses in a more exalted degree than any of
the lower animals? Taking care for the body while the mind is neglected is
the worst of failings—the most calamitous and the least excusable.

GONE!

By E. G. CHARLESWORTH.

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

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

SOCIAL WRECKAGE.

By ELLICE HOPKINS.

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

the woman—alas! alas! what a heap of anomalies is here—what real cause
to complain of the methods of our moral life! No wonder that the poor
Dissenting minister, much entangled in our social difficulties, and led on all
sides to contradictory conclusions, threw in a deprecatory clause in his
prayer, “Paradoxical as it may seem to thee, O Lord, it is nevertheless true.”
And what are the results of such methods as these? What must be the
results?
That we read that in the wealthiest nation in the world, one in every
thirty-one of our countrymen is a pauper; this, moreover, without including
any of that vast number of destitute persons who are maintained in
charitable institutions or by private benevolence.
That in the richest city in the world there were in one year 101 deaths
from actual starvation, in full sight of well-stocked shops.
That there are about 180,000 apprehensions each year for drunkenness,
and over 15,000 persons yearly charged with indictable crimes, and over
half a million convicted summarily before the magistrates, of which latter
nearly 100,000 are guilty of personal assaults, about 2,500 being aggravated
assaults upon women and children.
That there are extensive districts in London, Liverpool, and all our large
towns, where our people are living in little more than half the area of
ground required for a corpse, and which they could claim if they were dead,
in tenements which are the graves of all decency and chastity.
That “in Liverpool alone, by a rough estimate, there are some 10,000 or
more children who are neither properly fed, clothed nor housed, and
surrounded by such evil associations at home, or in the low lodging-houses
where they herd, that there is small chance of their leading afterwards a
useful life, and we can predict with certainty that many of them will enter
our prisons, penitentiaries and workhouses.”
Surely it must create an uneasy feeling in the most careless to realize this
mass of misery and sin on which the life of the well-to-do classes in
England is based—

“This deep dark underworld of woe,
That underlies life’s shining surfaces,
Dim populous pain and multitudinous toil,
Unheeded of the heedless world that treads
Its piteous upturned faces underfoot,
In the gay rout that rushes to its ends.”
It is impossible for me to deal adequately with the subject in the narrow
space of a short article, but let me touch on three of our greatest problems—
overcrowding, pauperism, and the care of the young.
First, as to overcrowding. This is a question that distinctly affects the
state, and with regard to which we have to “live in the whole,” and to see
that the welfare of the community is at stake, and that the state must have
an authoritative voice in it. Virtue, sobriety, decency, are physically
impossible in the conditions under which a vast number of its citizens are
living. The national health and morals are in danger. All the arguments that
justified the interference of the state with the rights of the Irish landlord,
apply equally to the London landlords, and the artificial forcing up of rents,
which has resulted from the necessity many workmen are under of living
near their work. Yet this question has been the subject of permissive
legislation! The Artisans’ Dwellings Improvement Act, an honest attempt on
the part of Sir Richard Cross to deal with the problem, was rendered
applicable to all towns of 28,000 inhabitants or upward—that is to say,
about eighty towns—but it was entrusted to the municipalities to carry it
out, the town councils which we have left to be composed chiefly of men of
narrow education, largely swayed by self-interest, and probably extensive
owners of the very property to be demolished! It is exactly as if the Irish
Land Bill had been permissive, and entrusted to the Irish landlords to put it
into execution! Can we wonder that in about sixty out of the eighty towns, it
remains a dead letter? In eleven it has led to discussion; in two or three it
has led to the demolition of buildings, but not to their erection. Is there not a
want of ordinary seeing in our moral life? Could we hope to solve a single
scientific problem on the methods on which we are content to live?
“The commercial success,” as Mr. Peek observes, “that has been
achieved by several of the Artisans’ Dwellings Companies which, while
providing good houses, yet pay fair dividends, shows that the poorest pay

rents which give a fair interest on capital, so that the municipality will not
be compelled to embark in a ruinous undertaking, or one that will not pay in
the long run, to say nothing of the gain to the health and morals of the
nation.”
Secondly, let us take pauperism. First of all let us clearly recognize that
no system of paid officials, no mechanical workhouse will take the place of
human thought and human care. Nothing will do instead of love. Indeed,
there are already signs that we are working out a reductio ad absurdum with
these portentous and ever-increasing warehouses of the destitute and the
vicious that are springing up, throwing the winter support of whole
dissolute families on hard-working rate-payers, and systematically
discouraging thrift. But the problem has been solved satisfactorily on a
small scale, and can be on a larger. The Elberfield experiment, which in
twelve years reduced the number of paupers from 4,800 to 1,800,
notwithstanding that the population had increased from 50,000 to 64,000,
and that great commercial depression existed, has been too often described
not to be familiar to all. But a remarkable parallel movement among the
Jews is scarcely so well known as it deserves to be. When “Oliver Twist”
was published, the leading Jews were so mortally ashamed of the picture
drawn by the popular novelist of Fagan and the low Jewish quarters in
London, that they formed themselves at once into an organization to remedy
so disgraceful a state of things. The numbers to be dealt with amounted to
those of a populous town, with the additional difficulty afforded by
immigrant Jews arriving in large numbers from the Continent in a state of
the greatest destitution. The investigation of every case requiring relief was
undertaken by volunteer workers, assisted by skilled officers, and was not
in the steam pig-killing style, but patient and exhaustive with true human
brotherhood; in deserving cases the relief given was sufficient to make a
guardian’s hair stand on end, but was given with the view to helping the
man to a means of livelihood. Especially this wise liberality was shown in
the treatment of their widows. Whilst Mr. Peek has no better suggestion to
offer than that the widows’ children should be removed to the pauper
barrack-schools to herd with the lowest children of casuals, a system which
Mr. Peek himself strongly condemns, the Jews recognized that the mother,
if well conducted, was the proper person to have the care of them, and that
her place was at home. They therefore either provided their widows with

indoor work, or, when that was impossible, relieved them on a sufficient
scale to enable them to look after their children at home; the consequence
being that instead of feeding the outcast class, as the neglected children of
our widows too often do, they grew up productive and well-conducted
members of the community. If, however, a family was found overcrowding,
all relief was steadily refused till they consented to live a human life,
assistance being given to move into a larger tenement. By these wise and
thoughtful methods in the course of a single generation the Jews have
worked up the people from a considerably lower level to one decidedly
above our own. To be sure the Jew does not drink. Give the most destitute
Jew five pounds down, and at the end of the year you will find him a small
capitalist, having considerably despoiled the Egyptians meanwhile. But the
intemperance of our people is largely caused by overcrowding, and by their
amusements and recreation-rooms being in the hands of those who make
their profit not by the entertainment but by the drink traffic, and indefinite
improvement may be brought about by wiser regulations that have the good
of the people, and not the fattening of publicans and brewers at heart.
Surely the success of the Jewish and Elberfeld efforts prove that the
problem of the reduction of pauperism and the inducing of healthy habits of
thrift and self-helping in the people is soluble, and with that army of
devoted Christian workers in our midst, to whose untiring efforts we owe it
that social disaster has not already overtaken us, it must be possible for us
to carry on the same movement, if Birmingham or one of our public-spirited
towns would lead the way.
Lastly, we come to the vast, hopeful field, presented by greater care for
the young, and better methods of embodying it.
First, let the law protect the young of both sexes up to the legal age of
majority from all attempts to lead them into a dissolute life. In most
continental countries the corruption of minors is an indictable offense. The
English penal code recognizes this principle in property; it is felony to
abduct an heiress up to twenty-one, and a young man’s debts, except for
bare necessaries, are null and void till he is of age; but, as usual, our
English law leaves the infinitely more precious moral personality
unprotected. There is no practical protection at any age for an English child
from the trade of vice. An unruly child of fifteen or sixteen, or even
younger, quarrels with her mother or with her employer, and runs off in a fit

of temper. Even if she leaves her parents’ roof, it can not be brought under
the law against abduction. No one abducts her; the child abducts herself. Yet
the keeper of the lowest den of infamy can harbor that child for an infamous
purpose, and he or she commits no indictable offence. It is no wonder,
therefore, that the open profligacy of the young forms the very gravest
feature of our large towns. Thankful as we are for the honest effort to deal
with this monstrous anomaly in English law, shown by Lord Rosebery’s
bill, we can not but regret the extreme inadequacy of its provisions, or that
the legislature should refuse to extend legal protection from even the trade
of vice, to the most dangerous age of a girl’s life, the age of sixteen—the
age when, as the medical faculty are agreed, a girl is least morally
responsible, and most liable to sexual extravagances, and when we can
statistically prove that the greatest number of those who go wrong are led
astray. The country will not rest till the legal protection from the trade of
vice is extended to twenty-one.
Secondly, let us recognize it as an axiom that parental rights do not exist
when wholly severed from parental duties; or, in other words, that the child
has its rights as well as the parent, and that its indefeasible right is, in
South’s strong words, “to be born and not damned into the world.” Let it be
recognized, then, that no child of either sex is to be brought up in a den of
infamy, and to attend school from thence to the contamination of the
children of the respectable poor, the magistrates being no longer allowed to
defeat this beneficent provision of the Industrial Schools Act, and parental
responsibility being recognized by the parent being compelled to pay
toward the Christian and industrial training of the child; all children living
in, or frequenting, thieves’ dens and disorderly houses to be at once
removed. Let day industrial schools be formed for the lowest class of
children, so as to introduce some classification in our board schools, the
want of which is one of their gravest defects. Let us adopt emigration to our
colonies for our pauper and destitute children, whenever possible. Any one
who has gone into the question can corroborate Mr. Samuel Smith’s
statement in his able article in the May number of the Nineteenth Century,
that “£15 per head covers all expenses, including a few months’ preparatory
training, outfit, passage, etc.” The average cost of each child in the
metropolitan district schools is nearly £25 per annum. About 11,000 pauper
children are brought up in these large establishments at a cost to the

ratepayers of London of £250,000 per annum. Probably each child is kept,
on the average, five years, costing, say, £120 in all. Truly Mr. Smith may
well add, “with a blindness that is incomprehensible, the guardians have
preferred herding them together at a vast expense, and refused till quite
lately to allow emigration to be tried.” And for those children who through
bad health, or any other disability, are unable to emigrate, and can not be
boarded out, as well as children whose drunken and dissolute parents are
bringing them up to crime, let there be an order of teaching deaconesses
instituted, and a state-aided training college, where educated ladies may
receive training in the management of an industrial school, and from which
the guardians can supply themselves with mothers for cottage homes on the
plan of the Village Homes of Ilford, where the cost of a child is £14, instead
of £25. By this arrangement the children would come under higher
influence than the uneducated workhouse officials. Hundreds of ladies are
wanting remunerative employment, and would gladly undertake this, if they
could be put in the way of the work by a little preliminary training, and
freed from the necessity of “doing the washing” in the cottage home. And,
lastly, let it be a recognized theory that every Christian household has one
respectable but rough little girl to train under its own upper class servants,
to give her a good start in life, that our houses, with all their culture and
refinement, may no longer be strongholds of l’egoisme à plusieurs, but
centers for teaching good work, high character, and fine manners—organs
for the public good.
And those social atomists who raise their vehement cry about personal
rights and the liberty of the subject over all compulsory measures for saving
children, I would remind that the question is not of compulsion or non-
compulsion; but whether the natural guardians of a child shall be compelled
to pay toward its Christian and industrial training, or whether they and I, as
ratepayers, shall be compelled to pay for its degradation in prisons, in
infirmary beds, and workhouses. Compulsion there is anyhow: but surely
no reasonable mind can doubt which compulsion is most in accordance with
the true right and true liberty.
And how can I better close than with the impassioned words of Elizabeth
Barrett Browning, apostrophizing our material splendor, as shown in the
great Exhibition of 1851, by the side of our moral squalor:

“O Magi of the East and of the West,
Your incense, gold and myrrh are excellent!
What gifts for Christ, then, bring ye with the rest?
Your hands have worked well: is your courage spent
In handiwork only? Have you nothing best
Which generous souls may perfect and present
And He shall thank the givers for? No light
Of teaching, liberal nations, for the poor
Who sit in darkness when it is not night?
No cure for wicked children? Christ—no cure!
No help for women sobbing out of sight
Because men made the laws? No brothel lure
Burnt out by popular lightnings? Hast thou found
No remedy, my England, for such woes?
* * * * *
Alas! great nations have great shames, I say.
* * * * *
O gracious nations, give some ear to me!
You all go to your fair, and I am one
Who at the roadside of humanity
Beseech your alms,—God’s justice to be done!”
—The Contemporary Review.

AT REST.

By SARAH DOUDNEY.

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

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

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

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

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

ECCENTRIC AMERICANS.

By COLEMAN E. BISHOP.

I.—THE SAILOR, PEDDLER, FARMER, PREACHER.

In mechanics, an eccentric is a wheel that can start all the rest of the
machinery with a jerk and a kick, and keep it going. It was the little
eccentrics that enabled ten thousand Chautauquans to scatter to every part
of the land in a few hours. The cam-motion in human nature starts its
machinery and scatters its thought. We ought to thank God for the minds
that wabble. Every originator has been counted eccentric—many of them
have been pronounced insane. The little Festuses sitting in judgment are
always crying to the inspired apostles of truth, “Thou art beside thyself.”
It is finite mechanism and finite thought that invent geometry and
theology. Men hang, cunningly and truly, their long counter-shafts of creed,
of behavior, of thought, of dress, of consistency, of loyalty; they bolt and
key thereto immovably all human characters which are round, “line them
up” all true and uniform, lubricate with lucre, put on the steam and away
they all go beautifully and all alike. Woe be to one who wabbles in this
machine-shop of society! But God uses no plumb-lines, right-angles, levels
or true circles. “Nature’s geometrician,” the bee, never made a true
hexagon. The old planets go “spinning through the grooves of change” in
eccentrics, and never collide. Erratic comets dash through and among them,
and never crash. I suppose the most eccentric character that ever walked
this earth was that strange boy from Nazareth who confounded the doctors
with his unprecedented outgivings. His teachings were indeed so strange
that after the world has been for one thousand nine hundred years trying to
work its standard up to them, a perfect Christian would to-day be accounted
non compos mentis by the rest of Christendom.

So it is not a bad idea to study eccentric characters, especially if they are
strangely good and oddly useful. One such, at least, we have at hand for the
first study of this series—Rev. Edward T. Taylor, “Father Taylor,” “The
Sailor-Preacher,” of Boston and the world.
Born in Virginia, reared on the sea, and adopted by New England. Born a
religionist, he preached “play” sermons when a child; born again a
Christian, he preached the gospel in the Methodist Episcopal Church until
all humanity claimed him. Born a poet, for ten years he studied nature in
her tragic and her melting moods upon the sea; studied man in the
forecastle, in the prison, upon the farm, in the market. Nature was his
university; humanity his text-book; hard experience his tutor. At the age of
twenty he had traveled the world over, had sounded the depths of human
fortune, passion, misery, and sin; was profoundly learned in his great text-
book, and the most inspired interpreter of its unuttered wants—and did not
know the alphabet! He had become celebrated throughout New England as
a marvelous prodigy in the despised sect of “shouting Methodists” years
before he could read a text or “line” a hymn. And to the day of his death his
preaching knew no method, his eloquence no logic, his conduct no
consistency, and his power no limit or restraint. To this day no one has
succeeded in analyzing his genius. He could not himself account for his
power, nor could he control it. He seemed to play upon his audiences at will
as a master plays upon the harp; yet some unseen, mysterious force played
upon him in turn. His brethren in the ministry, who accounted for his
strange power by attributing it to the Holy Spirit, were confounded by the
rudeness, jocoseness, and at times almost profanity of his speech at its
highest flights; and they who undertook to resolve his efforts into the
accepted elements of human power were astounded by the more than
human resources of a mind uncultured and a nature as wild, as
uncontrollable, as bright and as sad as the sea he loved. Surely, if ever man
was inspired, Father Taylor was.
His career, like his methods, answered to all the terms that can define
eccentricity. Deeply religious as the child was by nature, he ran away to sea
at the age of seven. His conversion was characteristic. Putting into port at
Boston, he strolled to a meeting-house where a revival was in progress;
instead of going in by the door, he listened outside, and when stricken under
conviction, with characteristic impulsiveness he climbed in through the

window. To use his own sailor words: “I was dragged in through the ‘lubber
hole,’ brought down by a broadside from the seventy-four, Bishop Hedding,
and fell into the arms of Thomas W. Tucker.” This was at the age of
nineteen. Then off to sea as a privateersman in the war of 1812, he was
captured and imprisoned at Halifax, and here his preaching of the gospel
strangely began. A fellow-prisoner read texts to him till one flashed upon
his conception as the cue to his discourse. “Stop!” the boy would cry; “read
that again.” “That will do;” and he was ready to pour forth a fervid hour of
pathos, wit, brilliant imagery, all supported by perfect acting.
Out of prison at last, he returns to Boston, leaves his seafaring forever,
and takes to the road with a tin peddler’s cart: clad in a sailor’s jacket and
tarpaulin, talking “sea lingo,” religion and poetry in equal proportions, he
traveled over New England as attractive a sight as Don Quixote would have
been. He came across an old lady who taught him to read (age 21), and he
paid her by gratefully holding meetings in her big kitchen, and exhorting
wondering crowds of rustics and weeping crowds of penitents. Next he
undertook to learn shoemaking, and then worked a farm for a living—all
the time concentrating his intense nature on his grand passion for playing
upon the human heart; earning little bread for himself, and breaking the
bread of life abundantly to farmers, shoemakers, fishermen; in farm houses,
school houses, barns, camp-meetings; over a circuit of his own
organization. “He was a youthful rustic Whitefield,” says Bishop Haven,
“thrilling rustic audiences with his winged words and fiery inspiration.” He
loved to preach from the text, “How knoweth this man letters, having never
learned?” Taylor did not know letters, and his speech was rude and coarse,
his blunders innumerable: if words failed him out of his limited vocabulary,
he manufactured them. Once, completely at fault in his struggle to express
the burning thoughts that crowded his brain he cried, with a perplexed but
irradiated face: “I have lost my nominative case, but I am on my way to
glory!” A few smiled; all wept. His earnestness atoned for many defects; his
imagery was even now beautiful, and his magnetism irresistible.
Thus young Taylor preached, unlicensed, for five years. It was the
breaking-up and seed-time of New England Methodism. Between the
Puritans and Quakers, with their mutual antagonism, the shouting
Methodists were as corn between the millstones, a despised and persecuted
sect.

About the age of twenty-five occurred three notable events in his life. He
was licensed by the Methodist Conference to preach. He attended school a
short time and began his education. He married one of God’s noble-women
to complete his education. For ten years he continued the life of a circuit
preacher, growing in culture, power, spirit, and fame, under that wise and
gentle nurture. No one can say how far short of its fullness Father Taylor’s
life might have fallen without Deborah Taylor.
All these seventeen years of his ministry he had, as far as possible, kept
near to the coast and the haunts of sailors; praying in the forecastle and
preaching on the decks of ships about to sail, wherever he could reach them.
The salt air was incense to him, and the music of the surf seemed ever
dwelling in the nautilus-chambers of his heart. At last his life-work came in
the direction of his longings. At the age of thirty-fire he was called to
preach to the sailors of Boston. The meetings were a success from the first,
and Mr. Taylor went South and solicited the money ($2,100) to buy a house
for their Bethel. (More bread cast on the waters to return after many days to
the South.) The work grew, and soon an incorporated society was
organized, called the “Boston Port Society;” from the first
nondenominational, though a majority of its board were Methodists. The
work still grew. Soon the merchants of Boston assumed the burden of the
work, and in 1833 “The Seamen’s Bethel” was completed at a cost of
$24,000. Soon a Seamen’s Savings Bank and then a Seamen’s Aid Society,
a Seamen’s Boarding-house, and then a Mariner’s Home (at a cost of
$34,000), an Industrial School for Seamen’s Children, and a Seamen’s Co-
operative Store, sprang up around this nucleus. These collateral enterprises
were largely the inspiration of Mother Taylor, but the burden of them fell
upon the Unitarians of Boston, who soon assumed entire control of the
noble charity and mission. Here Father Taylor fulfilled his life-mission.
“From 1829 to 1871 he trod this quarter-deck, its master.” The fame of the
Bethel and its chaplain, one and the same, went to all quarters of the globe.
Edward Everett styled him “The Walking Bethel,” and Richard H. Dana in
his “Two Years Before the Mast,” said one of the first inquiries of sailors in
foreign ports, from him, was regarding the welfare of Father Taylor, the
mariner’s preacher in Boston. A sailor declared he had been in ports where
the United States had not been heard of, but never where Father Taylor had
not. Once, soliciting aid for Bethel before another audience than his own, he

glowingly promised: “Drop your gold into this ocean and it will cast a wave
on the shores of Europe which will strike back to the islands of the
Southern Sea, rebound on the Northwest coast, and so make the circuit of
the world and strike this port again.” The realization of this prediction was
more extravagant than the bold imagery of it. At the dedication of the
Bethel he cried: “America is the center of the world, the center of America
is Boston, and the center of Boston is the Bethel.”
The first place of a returning sailor’s thoughts became the Bethel,
instead of the groggery. Two of them, seeking it for the first time, spelled
out the name on the flag floating above it: “B-e-t, beat, H-e-l, hell; beat-
hell! This is Father Taylor’s place,” and they cast anchor. “There he is,
Bill,” said an old tar to another, as they entered the Bethel; “there’s the old
man walking the deck. He’s got his guns double-shotted and will give it to
us right and left. See how fast he travels—fifteen knots on a taut bowline.
When he walks that way he’s ready for action.”
There were strange scenes in that vast audience room. The body of the
church was reserved for sailors always, while the side slips and galleries
were for the general public. When the seats were all filled, he would order
the sailors forward like a sea captain, and crowd the altar rail, the pulpit
stairs, the pulpit, and the pulpit sofas with the weather-beaten mariners,
while the grandest in the land stood and listened in the aisles. “Now,” he
would say, with a beaming face, “we have got the hold full and a deck load,
and we’ll up anchor and start.” Many of the best critics and reporters have
tried to describe and analyze a service after such a “start”—Dickens,
Harriet Martineau, Fredricka Bremer, Horace Mann, Ralph Waldo Emerson,
and others—but all fail to give us much comprehension of the method of
the man; I suspect because they were all so absorbed they forgot to take
notes, mental or otherwise. But they recall the effects of the preaching
vividly, each in his own way. So much of the power of Father Taylor was in
his presence and action, that no report of one of his sermons has been made
and preserved. He said himself, “You might as well try to report chain
lightning.” Dr. Bellows said, twelve years ago, “Alas! nothing remains of
him but his memory and his influence. He will be an incredible myth in
another generation.” Why need this be so? He has left a wealth of original
sayings behind him unequaled by the utterances of few save Abraham
Lincoln; and he may furnish the material for many rare studies in character.

We may be forgiven the presumption of attempting to help rescue Father
Taylor from vanishing into oblivion. What, then, were the characteristics
that lay at the foundations of this remarkable character? I would classify
them under four heads:
1. Intensity. This gave him concentration of thought, earnestness of
belief, courage and aggressiveness in action. He went into everything with
an irresistible impulse. His training on the sea and in the circuit gave free
growth to this trait. He was never placed where he needed to be politic or
conservative; and his combativeness always had free play. He was the
champion of his despised sect, but he fought with the polished weapons of a
wit, and the impressive presence of a will which the foes of his cause more
dreaded than force. And then his spirit was so lovable that there is no
instance on record of any one ever having laid hands on him, fierce
disputant as he was.
He was a man born to command. His will was imperious. The last
conscious act of his life was to shake his fist at his nurse, who refused to let
him rise from bed. Peter Cartwright said there were two cataracts in this
country—Niagara and Father Taylor. His brethren called him “the breaking-
up plow of the Church.” Miss Martineau spoke of “the prodigious force
which he carries in his magnificent intellect and earnest heart.” Another
English writer said, “He goes on as energetically as any ‘Praise-God
Barebones’ of the old Covenanter times.”
I think one thing all his biographers lost sight of was the fact that his
belief became a vital part of him, the very breath of his nostrils. There is a
mighty difference between truly believing, and simply accepting a belief
second-hand, which latter passes for belief with most people. It is the men
who genuinely believe who make others accept and adopt their belief. In the
pulpit his action is tremendous. He always comes down wet through with
perspiration, and a complete change of wardrobe is necessary with every
effort.
2. Imagination. To this quality is to be referred his profound religious
nature, his poetry, dramatic power, eloquence, and (in conjunction with his
earnestness) even his faults. One called him a poet; another, a born actor.
James Freeman Clarke said he was the only man he ever heard to whom the

much-abused word, “eloquence,” could be truly applied. But I think none of
these terms so accurately classify his genius as to call him a painter. His
earnestness made everything his quick imagination conjured up seem
realistic to him; and his dramatic power enabled him to make these images
realistic to his hearers. His thoughts were entities to him, and they always
took the form of objects real and visible. This differs from the poetic
imagination, the essence of which is unsubstantiality. The poet sees visions,
the artist creates forms. Taylor was an artist, with words for his colors,
action for his pencil. One who heard him said: “While he preached the
ocean rolled and sparkled, the ship spread her sails, the tempest lowered,
the forked lightnings blazed, the vessel struck, her disjointed timbers
floated upon the waves. It was all pictured to the eye as positive reality. You
could hardly believe afterward you had not actually witnessed the scene.”
He describes a shipwreck, and at the climax, as the ship is slowly
settling in the water, and every face in the audience is livid with fear, he
roars, “Man the life boat!” and every sailor in the house springs to his feet.
Now sailors, under the influence of drink, have killed their captain. He
describes the deed. They start up before the audience, creeping down the
stairs and into the cabin; he raises the imaginary knife, and half the men in
the house jump forward to arrest the blow, while women shriek in horror.
Once, however, a matter-of-fact, though possessed sailor, confused Father
Taylor. He had depicted the impenitent sinner, under the figure of a storm-
tossed ship, with her sails split, and driven by the gale toward the rock-
bound coast of Cape Ann. “Oh, how,” he exclaimed, in tones of despair,
“shall this poor sin-tossed sinner be saved?” “Put his helm hard down, and
bear away for Squam!” bellowed the old salt, springing excitedly to his
feet.
So he painted the Mosaic miracles, “till the brethren saw the snakes
squirm, heard the frogs croak, felt the lice bite, brushed the flies out of their
faces and saw the Israelites march out of Egypt.”
One of his last sermons, when he was old and feeble, ended thus: “My
work is almost done. Where are all my old shipmates—they who lay in
hammocks beside me and who have fought at the same guns? Gone, gone—
all gone! No, blessed be God! not all; there’s one left. [Here he made the
picture realistic by pointing to an old salt, gray, bent, and knotty-faced.]

Yes, there’s old Timberhead. He and I have weathered many a storm
together. It is only a little farther we have to sail. Look, look ahead there! It
is only to beat just around that point yonder. Now—now! there is the
peaceful, blessful haven and home full in view.” By this time the audience
was weeping, radiant with hope.
Even his isolated sentences are full of this imaginary realism. “Sailors
ignorant!” he cried indignantly when one depreciated them; “sailors know
everything; they grasp the world in their hand like an orange!” The boldness
of this language is wonderful. Of superannuated ministers he said: “They
are like camels bearing precious spices and browsing on bitter herbs. They
were moral giants. When God made them he rolled his sleeves up to the
arm-pits.”
It was the activity of his brain, the realism of his imagery and the
homely naturalness of his language that made some of his transitions abrupt
to grotesqueness and some of his speech border startlingly on impropriety.
He really thought aloud—which many a matter-of-fact, heavy speaker
would find it unsafe to do. Dissociated from their context and from the
earnestness and devout spirit of the man, they sound much worse than when
uttered.
It was the combination of these two qualities also which made him
extravagant in speech, erratic in sentiment, and inconsistent with himself.
He was whatever he thought or imagined for the moment; his genius
possessed and controlled him. Thus he was a radical temperance reformer,
but he denounced prohibitory legislation and hurled ridicule at those who
proposed the use of an unfermented wine in the sacrament; he called it
“raisin water.” Of rum-sellers he said: “I wonder that the angels in heaven
do not tear up the golden pavements and throw them on their heads;” but he
conjured those who should succeed him to “Cast out from this church, in
my name, any man that comes up to the altar with his glue-pot and dye-
stuff.”
Dr. Jewett says: “I have heard him at times when I have been amazed at
the utter inconsistency of his views, not only with any standard of doctrine
recognized as sound by other men, but with his own public utterances of
perhaps the week previous. His imagination, once fairly excited, could

furnish in thirty minutes material for half-a-dozen speeches of an hour each;
and, unfortunately, it frequently happened that different parts of the same
speech could be used on opposite sides of the same question.”
So he denounced the abolitionists and slavery in the same breath.
“Before I would assist one of those Southern devils to catch a nigger,” he
shouted, after reading “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” “I would see them all in hell,
and I would shout hallelujah on to the end of it!” “You talk like a rabid
abolitionist,” said his interlocutor. “No,” he cried, with even more
vengeance; “no, I despise them. They have cursed the land!” He called
Foster, the abolitionist orator, “a devil on the platform.” His reverence for
the church led him to consign summarily to a hotter climate those who
came out on the anti-slavery issue; and he was a vehement advocate of
church authority, and evangelical orthodoxy, yet the most of his life he
preached for Unitarians; and he openly defied the mandate of the
conference regarding Masonry, being a member of the fraternity, and he
submitted to church discipline for his contumacy, but refused to withdraw
from the order, and prayed in public for the anti-Masons, “O, Lord, make
their hearts as soft as their heads are.” Plainly, there was no managing such
a tempestuous soul, and he was left to go his own way. Honor be to the
church that had the magnanimity and broad charity to let him do his own
grand work in his own grand way. It was herein as grand and eccentric as an
organization as he was among men.
His sarcasm, wit, terseness, and vigor of speech were the outcome of an
energetic and picturesque mind, struggling with a limited vocabulary for its
expression. His sentences were explosive. “This fast age,” he said, “would
be glad to put spurs to lightning, and blow a trumpet in the ears of thunder.”
Again, “Some people think they are saints. If they could see themselves as
the just in glory see them they wouldn’t dare to look a decent devil in the
face.” “If I owed the devil a hypocrite, and he wouldn’t take that man for
pay, I’d repudiate the debt.” He called another minister, who had preceded
him, and infringed on his allotted time, “As selfish as a whale who takes in
a ton of herring before breakfast.” Again, “It is a great mistake to think of
converting the world without the help of sailors. You might as well think of
melting a mountain of ice with a moonbeam, or of heating an oven with
snow-balls.” He called morality, without religion, “Starting a man to heaven
with an icicle in his pocket.” “I am not two inches off heaven!” he

exclaimed, in a moment of religious exaltation. He said to Channing, the
Unitarian: “When you die angels will fight for the honor of carrying you to
heaven on their shoulders.” “Sailors’ hearts are big as an ox’s; open like a
sunflower, and they carry them in their right hands ready to give them
away.” One of his converts, gifted in prayer, he always called “Salvation-
set-to-music.” A colored brother, speaking with the simple pathos of his
race, drew from Father Taylor the ejaculation, “There is rain in that cloud.”
But, whether homely or lofty, whether pathetic or witty, he always talked
in dead earnest out of his warm heart, out of his seething brain, and
everything was gilded by the magic touch of imagination. “A man,” says
Stevens, “who could scarcely speak three sentences, in the pulpit or out of
it, without presenting a striking poetic image, a phrase of rare beauty, or a
sententious sarcasm, whose discourses presented the strangest, the most
brilliant exhibition of sense, epigrammatic thought, pathos, and humor,
spangled over by an exhaustless variety of the finest images and pervaded
by a spiritual earnestness that subdued all listeners.” “His splendid thoughts
come faster than he can speak them,” said Harriet Martineau, “and at times
he could be totally overwhelmed by them if a burst of tears, of which he
was wholly unconscious, did not aid in his relief.” “I have seen a diamond
shining,” said Dr. Bartol, “but he was a diamond on fire.”
3. Sympathy. Here was the secret of his power over men. His emotional
nature constantly overflowed all else. With a marvelous intuition in reading
character, a free-masonry with all phases of human emotions, a magnetism
that put him inside of every heart, he became the better self, the ideal
longing of each listener. It made no difference how learned or stoical the
man was; Father Taylor got hold of him and stirred his heart from the
bottom. A man of wit said, “I am always afraid when I am laughing at
Father Taylor’s wit, for I know he will make me cry before he has done
with me.” People cry and laugh alternately, and sometimes both together.
Laughter is the best preparation for tears. “Man, thou pendulum betwixt a
smile and tear.” [Are we not all inconsistent, eccentric, at the bottom of our
natures, i. e., at our very best?] A New York comedian came to study the
method of one of whose acting he had heard much report; he was so
affected by the unlearned art of this master of the soul that he fairly
blubbered behind his handkerchief.

Dr. Wentworth, of another occasion said: “The immense audience
swayed in the wealth of his eloquence like a forest of willows. We laughed,
we wept, we shouted in turns; and finally, finding myself getting utterly
unmanned, and rapidly dissolving into tears and brine, I fled the pulpit and
hid myself out of earshot of this extraordinary scene.”
Dr. Wakely, of New York, describes the effects of a prayer by Father
Taylor, at the New York Conference: “The ministers wept all over the house
like little children. Dr. Capers and Dr. Pitman were in the pulpit with me.
Dr. Capers wept and trembled exceedingly; and Dr. Pitman laughed and
cried alternately—smiles and tears strangely blended.”
“His pathos is the most awful of his powers,” said Miss Martineau,
terrified at his control over her emotions; “I have seen a single clause of a
short sentence call up an instantaneous flush on hundreds of hard faces.”
Many would not expose their hearts to hear him a second time; they
could not bear the overmastering power.
Dr. Bartol very finely said: “What was the secret but a sympathy, raised
to the highest power, so as to exceed all that we conceive under that name,
so that he saw out of people as well as into them! He put on their eyes for
his eyeglasses, looking at the world as they did, and they found and felt him
in them at the core and center.” “He was a master of pathos,” said Dr.
Bellows; “rough sailors and beautiful and cultivated Boston girls, and men
like Webster and Emerson, and shop boys and Cambridge students, and
Jenny Lind and Charles Dickens, and Harriet Martineau, and everybody of
taste or curiosity who visited Boston were seen weeping together with
Father Taylor. Ah, the human heart, down at the bottom, is one.”
He loved all little children with all his Master’s passion. The baptism of
infants was always a baptism of joy and tears with him. He would gather
one to his breast and kiss and croon over it like a mother. Taking a beautiful
little girl in his arms, he raised her before the whole audience, and said,
with streaming eyes, “Look at the sweet lamb! Her mother has brought her
to Christ’s fold. A baptism of heaven be on thee, my pretty dove.” All
children recognized him at sight for one of their guild. A ragged little girl
walked into the church at his funeral, laid a buttonhole bouquet on the
coffin, and said timidly and sweetly, “He was my friend,” and so departed.

Once when he had been called to several children’s funerals in succession,
he said to a friend whom he met in the street, “There is something wrong
somewhere. There are storms brewing when so many doves are flying
aloft.”
At funerals he was a refuge of consolation. He so entered into the hearts
bereaved that he felt their hurt. “Father, look upon us,” he once implored,
with mighty and tender supplication, “we are a widow!” “It is no wonder to
me,” said Harriet Martineau, “that the widow and orphan are cherished by
those who hear his prayers for them.”
Drunken sailors or abandoned women, none were left out of reach of his
infinite sympathy; and it reached the uttermost parts of the earth. A sailor
boy has died and been buried in South America, and he prays that the
Comforter may be near the bereaved father “when his aged heart goes forth
from his bosom to flutter around the far southern grave of his boy!” Is
Shakspere more dramatic, Shelly more imaginative, Longfellow more
pathetic than this?
Out of this fathomless love he preached his gospel of happiness and
purity and love; for it was doubtless true, as he declared, that “he never
knew the time when he did not love God.” Out of it came his sweet charity
and tolerance. His lovers were of all denominations and of none—
Catholics, Universalists, Unitarians—for he was “altogether lovely.” When
one at a camp-meeting excluded from salvation all these sects, all men who
used tobacco and all women who wore jewelry, Father Taylor broke in
indignantly, “If that’s true, Christ’s mission was a failure. It’s a pity he
came.” “How far apart are heaven and hell?” he was asked. “I tell you,”
said he, “they are so near that myriads of souls to-day don’t know which
they are in.” “Blessed Jesus,” he prayed, “give us common sense, and let no
man put blinkers on us, that we can only see in a certain direction; for we
want to look all around the horizon—yea, to the highest heavens and to the
lowest depths of the ocean.” “When Bigotry is buried I hope I shall be at the
funeral,” he said. His intimacy with the Unitarians, and his remarkable
tribute to Channing have been cited. Of Emerson he said: “He has the
sweetest soul God ever put into a man. If the devil gets him he will never
know what to do with him.” A theologian asked him what he was going to
do with the Unitarians; “I don’t know,” he said, confidentially; “if they go

to hell they’ll change the atmosphere.” “Is your son-in-law a Christian?”
asked a solicitous brother. “Not exactly,” replied Father Taylor, “but he’s a
very sweet sinner.”
4. His humor. This kept all cheerful, healthy and bright. He was a
“laughing Christian.” I do not think he ever used humor merely to make
people laugh, but always with an earnest purpose back of it. He was no
joker, and rarely thought his own keen thrusts subjects for merriment.
Of his manliness, his good sense, his improvidence, his sweet and
beautiful home life, space does not suffice to speak.
If to be an original character among men is to be eccentric, Father Taylor
was indeed odd. “He was in all things himself and not any one else; in this
generation there has been but one Father Taylor,” said Dr. Waterstone; and
Dr. Bartol declared that, “No American citizen—Webster, Clay, Everett,
Lincoln, Choate—has a reputation more impressive and unique.” No one
understood his singularity better than himself. “I will not wear a straight-
jacket or Chinese shoes,” he declared. Having been invited to lecture, he
said: “I can’t lecture; I would not lecture if I could. Your lectures are all
macadamized; they are entertainments where those go who dare not visit
the theater. I must cross-plow your fine paths. I am no man’s model, no
man’s copyist, no man’s agent; go on my own hook; say what I please, and
you may help yourselves.”
Like all greatly-eccentric souls, I presume, he felt his own isolation and
want of comprehension of himself by others. One who sat far into the night
in communion of soul with him, said: “You are a strange mortal!” “Well,”
said he, pathetically, “I have made up my mind there never was but one E.
T. Taylor and, so far as I have anything to do with it, there never shall be
another.”
When we think of his birth, training, and surroundings—the child of the
plantation and the graduate of the forecastle—and contrast this with his
peculiar powers, his strange career, and above all in rarity his wonderful
world-wide mission, it is not too much to say that Father Taylor is without a
parallel in American history. “An impulsive, untrained, and erratic genius;”
there was a fixed purpose and a continuity of effort, such as is seen in few
lives. If extravagant in speech and inconsistent in views, his intensity,

vividness, and realism, make all sound like plain common-sense. Haughty
and tender, imperious and democratic, grand and simple, splendidly
uncultured; a strange, terrible power among men always used for leading,
driving, persuading to righteousness. He deserves a paraphrase of a higher
tribute than Phillips, the Irish barrister, gave to Napoleon. Such a medley of
contradictions and at the same time such individual consistency for right
were never before united in the same character. In the solitude of his
originality, he was always the same mysterious, incomprehensible self—a
man without a model and without a shadow.
“When I am dead,” he pleaded, “I do not want to be buried in dirt. But
bury me rather in the deep salt sea, where the coral rocks shall be my
pillow, and the seaweeds shall be my winding-sheet, and the waves shall
sing my requiem forever.”
And it was not done. Conventionality triumphed in death over the old
eccentric, who had defied it as long as he lived.

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

C. L. S. C. WORK.

By Rev. J. H. VINCENT, D.D., Superintendent of Instruction C. L. S. C.

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

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

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

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

Let the members of the Class of ’83 who were not graduated in August,
now begin to read up the required books, and be ready for graduation in
1884.

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

Broadway, New York, the Chautauqua Text-Book and 15 cents additional,
they will forward the “Easy Lessons in Vegetable Biology.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

FOOTNOTE:
[D] Students of the new class (1887) to be organized this fall, not having read
volume 1 of Timayenis’s History of Greece, will not be required to read volume

2, but, instead of volumes 1 and 2 of Timayenis’s, will read “Brief History of
Greece.” Price, paper, 60 cents.

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

OUTLINE OF C. L. S. C. STUDIES.

OCTOBER, 1883.

The required readings for October are:
Parts 7 and 8 of the second volume of Timayenis’s “History of
Greece” for students having read the first volume, but for students
of class 1887 the first ninety-one pages of “Brief History of
Greece.”
Chautauqua Text-book, No. 5, “Greek History,” by Dr. J. H.
Vincent.
“Primer of American Literature,” by C. F. Richardson.
Readings in The Chautauquan.
The division is as follows:
First Week (ending October 8)—1. The first three chapters of
part 7 of Timayenis’s “History of Greece;” or from page 1 to “Age
of Pericles,” page 23, in “Brief History of Greece.”
2. American Literature, the first two chapters.
3. Readings in American Literature in The Chautauquan.
4. Sunday Readings, in The Chautauquan, selection for October
7.

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

2. American Literature, from page 30 to page 55, inclusive.
3. Readings in Physical Science in The Chautauquan.
4. Sunday Readings, in The Chautauquan, selection for October
14.

Third Week (ending October 24)—1. “History of Greece”
(Timayenis’s) from chapter ii., page 73, to chapter vi., page 115, or
in “Brief History of Greece,” from page 46, “The Civilization,” to
“Manners and Customs,” page 71.
2. American Literature, from page 56, section 34, to page 81.
3. Readings in The Chautauquan on German History and
Political Economy.
4. Sunday Readings, in The Chautauquan, selection for October
21.

Fourth Week (ending October 31)—1. “History of Greece.”
Finish part eighth, or in “Brief History of Greece,” from page 71,
“Manners and Customs,” to “Readings in Greek History,” page 91.
2. American Literature, from section 34, page 81, to end of
volume.
3. Readings in Art, in The Chautauquan.
4. Sunday Readings, in The Chautauquan, for October 28.

POPULAR EDUCATION.
CHAUTAUQUA LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC CIRCLE.
President—Lewis Miller.
Superintendent of Instruction—J. H. Vincent, D.D.
Counselors—Lyman Abbott, D.D.; J. M. Gibson, D.D.; Bishop H. W. Warren, D.D.; W. C.
Wilkinson, D.D.
Office Secretary—Miss Kate F. Kimball.
General Secretary—A. M. Martin.

1.—AIM.

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

2.—METHODS.

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

3.—COURSE OF STUDY.

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

4.—ARRANGEMENT OF CLASSES.

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

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

I. REQUIRED.
History of Greece.[E] By Prof. T. T. Timayenis. Vol. 2; parts 7, 8,
10 and 11. Price, $1.15.
Stories in English History by the Great Historians. Edited by C.
E. Bishop, Esq. Price, $1.
Chautauqua Text-Books.—No. 16, Roman History; No. 24,
Canadian History; No. 21, American History; No. 5, Greek History.
Price, 10 cents each.
Preparatory Latin Course in English. By Dr. W. C. Wilkinson.
Price, $1.
Chautauqua Text-Books.—No. 23, English Literature. By Prof. J.
H. Gilmore. Price, 10 cents.
Primer of American Literature. By C. F. Richardson. Price, 30
cents.
Biographical Stories by Hawthorne. Price, 15 cents.
How to Get Strong and How to Stay So. By W. Blaikie. Price,
cloth, 80 cents; paper, 50 cents.
Easy Lessons in Vegetable Biology. By Dr. J. H. Wythe. Price,
cloth, 40 cents; paper, 25 cents.

Philosophy of the Plan of Salvation. By J. B. Walker. Price,
cloth, $1; paper, 50 cts.
Chautauqua Text-Books.—No. 18, Christian Evidences; No. 39,
Sunday-School Normal Class Work; No. 43, Good Manners; No. 4,
English History. Price, 10 cents each.
The Chautauquan, price, $1.50, in which will be published:

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

The Chautauquan will also contain, in the department of
Required Readings, brief papers, as follows:

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

ADDITIONAL READINGS FOR STUDENTS OF THE CLASS OF 1884.

Hints for Home Reading. By Dr. Lyman Abbott. Price,
cloth, $1; boards, 75 cts.
The Hall in the Grove. By Mrs. Alden. (A Story of
Chautauqua and the C. L. S. C.) Price, $1.50.
Outline Study of Man. By Dr. Mark Hopkins. Price,
$1.50.

II. FOR THE WHITE SEAL.
Persons who pursue the “White Seal Course” of each year, in
addition to the regular course, will receive at the time of their
graduation a white seal for each year, to be attached to the regular
diploma.
History of Greece.[E] By Prof. T. T. Timayenis. Vol. 2.
Completed. Price, $1.15.
Chautauqua Library of English History and Literature.
Vol. 2. Price, cloth, 50 cents; paper, 35 cents.
Church History. By Dr. Blackburn. Price, $2.25.
Bacon’s Essays. Price, $1.25.

III. REQUIRED.—FOR THE WHITE (CRYSTAL) SEAL FOR
GRADUATES OF ’82 AND ’83.
For the benefit of graduates of the C. L. S. C. who, being
members of local circles, wish to continue in the same general line
of reading as undergraduate members, a White Crystal Seal Course
is prepared. This consists mainly of books belonging to the current
year’s study, but not previously read by the graduates. An additional
white seal is also offered to the graduates, the books for which are
specified under paragraph 4. Some of these books were in the first
four year’s course, and are therefore to be re-read. The payment of
one dollar at one time entitles a graduate to the White Crystal and
White Seals for four years. If only fifty cents is paid, it will be
credited for but one year.
The Chautauquan. Required Reading.
History of Greece.[E] By Prof. T. T. Timayenis. Vol. 2.
Completed. Price, $1.15.
Preparatory Latin Course in English. By. Dr. W. C.
Wilkinson. Price, $1.

Credo. By Dr. L. T. Townsend. Price, $1.
Bacon’s Essays. Price, $1.25.

IV. REQUIRED.—FOR ADDITIONAL WHITE SEAL FOR
GRADUATES OF ’82 AND ’83.
Brief History of Greece. By J. Dorman Steele. Price, 60
cents.
Stories in English History by the Great Historians. Edited
by C. E. Bishop. Price, $1.
Easy Lessons in Vegetable Biology. By Dr. J. H. Wythe.
Price, cloth, 40 cents; paper, 25 cents.
Biographical Stories. By Nathaniel Hawthorne. Price, 15
cents.
How to Get Strong and How to Stay So. By W. Blaikie.
Price, cloth, 80 cents; paper, 50 cents.
Philosophy of the Plan of Salvation. By J. B. Walker.
Price, cloth, $1; paper, 50 cts.
Primer of American Literature. By C. F. Richardson.
Price, 30 cents.
Chautauqua Text-Books, Nos. 4, 5, 16, 18, 21, 23, 39 and
43. Price, each, 10 cents.
The following is the distribution of the books and readings
through the year:

October.

History of Greece.[F] Vol. 2. By Prof. T.
T. Timayenis. Parts 7 and 8.
Chautauqua Text-Books.—No. 5, Greek
History. By Dr. J. H. Vincent.

Primer of American Literature. By C. F.
Richardson.
Required Readings in The Chautauquan

November.

History of Greece.[F] Vol. 2. By Prof. T.
T. Timayenis. Parts 10 and 11.
Chautauqua Text-Books.—No. 5, Greek
History. By Dr. J. H. Vincent.
Required Readings in The Chautauquan

December.

Easy Lessons in Vegetable Biology. Dr.
J. H. Wythe.
Biographical Stories. By Nathaniel
Hawthorne.
Required Readings in The Chautauquan

January.

Philosophy of the Plan of Salvation. By
J. B. Walker. 14 chapters.
Chautauqua Text-Books.—No. 18,
Christian Evidences. By Dr. J. H.
Vincent.
Chautauqua Text-Books.—No. 39,
Sunday School Normal Class
Work.
Required Readings in The Chautauquan

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.
By W. Blaikie.
Required Readings in The Chautauquan

March.

Preparatory Latin Course in English. By
Dr. W. C. Wilkinson. Half of
book.
Required Readings in The Chautauquan

April.

Preparatory Latin Course in English. By
Dr. W. C. Wilkinson. Completed.
Chautauqua Text-Books.—No. 16,
Roman History. By Dr. J. H.
Vincent.
Required Readings in The Chautauquan

May.

Stories in English History by the Great
Historians. By C. E. Bishop. Half
of book.
Chautauqua Text-Books.—No. 4,
English History. By Dr. J. H.
Vincent.

Chautauqua Text-Books.—No. 23,
English Literature. By Prof. J. H.
Gilmore.
Required Readings in The Chautauquan

June.

Stories in English History by the Great
Historians. Completed.
Chautauqua Text-Books.—No. 4,
English History. By Dr. J. H.
Vincent.
Chautauqua Text-Books.—No. 43, Good
Manners. By J—— P——.
Required Readings in The Chautauquan

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

7.—THE PREPARATORY COURSE.
Persons who are too young, or not sufficiently advanced in their
studies to take the regular C. L. S. C. course, may adopt certain
preparatory lessons for one or more years.
For circulars of the preparatory course, address Miss K. F.
Kimball, Plainfield, New Jersey.

8.—INITIATION FEE.

To defray the expenses of correspondence, memoranda, etc., an
annual fee of fifty cents is required. This amount should be
forwarded to Miss K. F. Kimball, Plainfield, N. J., (by New York or
Philadelphia draft, Post-office order on Plainfield, N. J., or the new
Postal Note, to be ready about September 1.) Do not send postage-
stamps if you can possibly avoid it. Three-cent stamps will not be
received.
N. B.—In sending your fee, be sure to state to which class you
belong, whether 1884, 1885, 1886, or 1887.

9.—APPLICATION FOR MEMBERSHIP.
Persons desiring to unite with the C. L. S. C. should forward
answers to the following questions to Miss K. F. KIMBALL,
Plainfield, N. J. The class graduating in 1887 should begin the
study of the lessons required October, 1883. They may begin as late
as January 1, 1884.
1. Give your name in full.
2. Your post-office address, with county and State.
3. Are you married or single?
4. What is your age? Are you between twenty and thirty, or thirty
and forty, or forty and fifty, or fifty and sixty, etc.?
5. If married, how many children living under the age of sixteen
years?[G]
6. What is your occupation?
7. With what religious denomination are you connected?
8. Do you, after mature deliberation, resolve, if able, to prosecute
the four years’ course of study presented by the C. L. S. C.?
9. Do you promise, if practicable, to give an average of four
hours a week to the reading and study required by this course?

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

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

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

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

13.—MISCELLANEOUS.
For the history of the C. L. S. C., an explanation of the Local
Circles, the Memorial Days to be observed by all true C. L. S. C.
members, St. Paul’s Grove at Chautauqua, etc., etc., address
(inclose two-cent stamp) Miss K. F. Kimball, Plainfield, N. J., who
will forward the “Chautauqua Hand-Book, No. 2,” sixty-four pages.
Blank forms, containing the ten questions given in paragraph 9, will
also be sent on application.

14.—CHAUTAUQUA PERIODICALS.

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

15.—BOOKS OF THE C. L. S. C.
For all the books address Phillips & Hunt, New York, or Walden
& Stowe, Cincinnati or Chicago.

FOOTNOTES:
[E] Students of the new class (1887) to be organized this fall, and graduates
of the classes of 1882 and 1883, not having read volume 1 of Timayenis’s
History of Greece, will not be required to read volume 2, but instead of volume 2
of Timayenis’s, will read “Brief History of Greece.” Price, paper, 60 cts.
[F] Students of the new class (1887) to be organized this fall, not having read
volume 1 of Timayenis’s History of Greece, will not be required to read volume
2, but instead of volume 2, of Timayenis’s, will read “Brief History of Greece.”
Price, paper, 60 cts.
[G] We ask this question to ascertain the possible future intellectual and
moral influence of this “Circle” on your homes.

[Not required.]

QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS.

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

I.—ONE HUNDRED QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS ON
“HISTORY OF GREECE,” VOL. II., PARTS SEVENTH AND
EIGHTH—THEBAN SUPREMACY, AND MACEDONIAN
HELLENISM.

1. Q. What was the character of the Thebans in the fifth and fourth
centuries before Christ? A. They were brave soldiers, and possessed souls,
if not always noble, yet ever resolute; bodies, if not prepossessing, yet
athletic and well prepared, by exercise and thorough drill from early
childhood, for every military duty.
2. Q. What two names are permanently associated with the rise of
Theban power? A. Epaminondas and Pelopidas.
3. Q. What was the training and what some of the striking characteristics
of Epaminondas? A. He was trained from early youth in all the branches of
gymnastics and military duty; was distinguished by the diligent care he took
of his intellectual education; was modest and wholly devoid of a boasting
spirit, and was indifferent to money.
4. Q. What did Epaminondas, with Pelopidas, organize that filled Hellas
with the fame of its achievements, and fell only when the autonomy of
Hellas disappeared? A. The famous lochos, or band, composed of three
hundred picked men, bound together by the closest ties of friendship, and
devoted to each other to the death.
5. Q. What was the effect upon the Spartans of the war against the
Thebans, the latter being assisted by the Athenians, during the first part of

the fourth century before Christ? A. The Spartans were daily losing their
prestige and becoming humbled.
6. Q. What was the most noted of the combats of the Thebans with the
Lacedæmonians in Bœotia at this time, which served as a sort of prelude to
that of Leuktra? A. The battle of Tegyra, in which the Thebans, led by
Pelopidas, achieved a splendid victory.
7. Q. What disastrous visitations heightened the despondency of the
Spartans in 372 B. C.? A. The terrible earthquakes and rains which during
that year occurred in the Peloponnesus, and which they regarded as tokens
of the wrath of the god Poseidon.
8. Q. What was the result of the Athenians having established their new
naval dominion on the Ionian Sea? A. They had no longer ground on which
to continue the war, and they therefore sent to Sparta for peace.
9. Q. What was the result of the congress of the Hellenic nation which
followed in the year 371 B. C.? A. Agesilaus, on behalf of Sparta, caused
the names of the Thebans to be struck from the roll, and declared war
against them upon the spot.
10. Q. What celebrated battle was fought soon after in Bœotia between
the Lacedæmonians and the Thebans? A. The battle of Leuktra.
11. Q. Previous to this time how had Hellenic armies been drawn up in
order of battle? A. In parallel lines.
12. Q. What plan did Epaminondas adopt on this occasion? A. He
massed upon the center a greater force than his opponent, and concentrated
a superior number upon the right wing.
13. Q. What is said of the adoption of this arrangement of the forces of
an army afterward by military leaders? A. It was afterward largely adopted
by military leaders, and by its successful application some of the greatest
battles of the world have been gained by such generals as Frederick of
Prussia and Napoleon.
14. Q. What was the result at the battle of Leuktra? A. The right wing of
the Spartans was completely driven back to their camp, and the remainder

of the army sought safety by retreat.
15. Q. Following immediately upon the defeat at Leuktra what occurred
in the Peloponnesus? A. A great revolution broke out against Sparta.
16. Q. What movement was next undertaken by Epaminondas? A. He
invaded the Peloponnesus with the Thebans and their allies, and approached
almost to the very gates of Sparta.
17. Q. What is said of the appearance of an enemy before Sparta? A. Full
six hundred years had elapsed since the first establishment of the Dorians in
Lacedæmon, and this was the first time in all that long period that they had
seen an enemy in their territory.
18. Q. What two enterprises did Epaminondas now execute which had
formed the special purpose of his expedition? A. The re-establishment of
Messenia and the consolidation of the Arkadians.
19. Q. Within what space of time had this complete change of affairs
occurred in the Peloponnesus? A. Within a space of eighteen months from
the time the Thebans were insultingly driven from the national congress by
Sparta.
20. Q. On the north what conquest was made by Pelopidas about the
same time? A. He invaded Thessaly, and subdued the greater part of the
country.
21. Q. What were the terms of the permanent league into which the two
states of Athens and Sparta now entered? A. That the command both on
land and sea should alternate between Athens and Sparta for periods of five
days.
22. Q. Notwithstanding this league what was the ruling city in Hellas? A.
Thebes.
23. Q. What countries in Greece acknowledged Thebes as ruler and
obeyed her? A. Macedonia, Thessaly, most of the countries between
Thermopylæ and the isthmus, and most of the Peloponnesus.
24. Q. About the end of the year 368 B. C., what battle was fought
between the Spartans and Arkadians during the absence of Epaminondas

from the Peloponnesus? A. What the Spartans called “The Tearless Battle.”
25. Q. What does Diodorus say of the slain? A. Ten thousand men were
slain, without the loss of a single Lacedæmonian.
26. Q. At the instance of Pelopidas, in 366 B. C., what declaration was
made by the Persian king in regard to Thebes? A. Thebes was declared the
head city of Hellas, and any city refusing to admit her leadership was
menaced with instant compulsion by Persian force.
27. Q. How was this declaration received by the allies of Thebes? A.
They collectively refused to adhere to the royal decree.
28. Q. What occurred to Pelopidas while in the execution of his duty as
envoy to Thessaly in his efforts to have the supremacy of Thebes there
recognized? A. He was seized and detained as prisoner by Alexander of
Pheræ.
29. Q. After he had been released through the efforts of Epaminondas,
what was the result of an engagement of the forces of Pelopidas with those
of Alexander of Thessaly? A. The army of Alexander was routed at the
battle of Kynos Kephalæ, but Pelopidas was slain.
30. Q. About the middle of 362 B. C., for what purpose did
Epaminondas march again into the Peloponnesus? A. In order to strengthen
the adherents of the Thebans and to put down their numerous opponents.
31. Q. What celebrated battle was fought between the forces under
Epaminondas and the allied army opposed? A. The battle of Mantineia.
32. Q. What was the result of the engagement? A. The whole army in
opposition to Epaminondas was driven from the field.
33. Q. What was the fate of Epaminondas? A. He received a wound in
the breast from the thrust of a spear which proved mortal.
34. Q. What is the character of the opinions that have been uniformly
expressed, both in ancient and modern times concerning Epaminondas? A.
There has ever been for him only praise and admiration.

35. Q. After he fell what prevailed for twenty-five years in Greece? A.
Political anarchy, ending only in the Macedonian supremacy.
36. Q. Following the advice of Epaminondas what did the Thebans at
once do after the battle of Mantineia? A. They made peace with the enemy.
37. Q. Where did the Spartan king, Agesilaus, soon after die? A. On the
march toward home from Egypt, where he unsuccessfully attempted an
expedition against the Persian empire.
38. Q. What three islands and city revolted from Athens and her
confederacy which led to the three years’ “social war” from 358 to 355 B.
C.? A. The islands of Chios, Kos and Rhodes, and the city of Byzantium.
39. Q. What war was carried on in Greece for the ten years from 355 to
346 B. C.? A. The second Sacred War.
40. Q. During this war what desecration was committed by the Phokian
general Philomelus? A. The sanctuary of the Delphian temple was seized
and robbed of its treasures.
41. Q. What noted king of Macedonia first took part in Hellenic affairs
during the second Sacred War? A. Philip.
42. Q. What was the result of an engagement by the forces of Philip with
the Phokians? A. He became master of Thessaly, and proclaimed himself
the avenger of the Delphian god, and the defender of the insulted Hellenic
religion.
43. Q. By whom was the advance of Philip into Hellas repelled? A. By
the Athenians, who occupied Thermopylæ in opposition to Philip.
44. Q. What renowned orator attempted to arouse the Athenians to
oppose the advance of Philip in his efforts to reduce all Hellas to his sway?
A. Demosthenes.
45. Q. Where does the criticism of the modern world and that of the
grandest orators of France and England unanimously place Demosthenes?
A. At the head of orators.

46. Q. By what name are the most famous of the orations of
Demosthenes known? A. The Philipics.
47. Q. What decisive battle was fought in 338 B. C. between the
Macedonian army and the Athenians and their allies? A. The battle of
Chœroneia.
48. Q. What was the result of this battle? A. The Greeks were conquered,
and the Sacred Band of the Thebans to a man fell in this battle as they stood
in a solid phalanx, not one of the three hundred yielding a foot.
49. Q. To whom was the chief credit of this victory due? A. To the
youthful Alexander, the son of Philip.
50. Q. At a congress of Hellenic cities Philip soon after convened at
Corinth to what position was he chosen? A. General-in-chief of all Hellas.
51. Q. What was the geographical position of Macedonia before its
enlargement through the conquests of Philip? A. It was an exclusively
inland country lying between two mountain ranges on the north side of the
great Kambunian chain.
52. Q. What is said of the language of the Macedonians? A. It was
widely different from that of the Thracians on the east and the Illyrians on
the west, and was so nearly akin to the Hellenic that the latter tongue was
easily acquired by them.
53. Q. In the earliest times how were the inhabitants of Macedonia
divided? A. Into a variety of independent tribes, each of which had its own
king or chieftain.
54. Q. According to tradition who were the real founders of the greatness
of Macedonia? A. Fugitives from Hellas, belonging to the royal Herakleid
line of Argos, who are supposed to have arrived in the country during the
seventh century before Christ.
55. Q. Who was the first Macedonian sovereign of real historic
importance? A. Amyntas.
56. Q. Mention three other sovereigns of Macedonia before Philip. A.
Alexander, Perdikkas, and Archelaus.

57. Q. Who was the father of Philip? A. Amyntas II.
58. Q. What mode of life did the immediate predecessors of Philip seek
as much as possible to approach? A. The Attic mode of life.
59. Q. What is said in regard to King Archelaus? A. That he introduced
many social improvements after Hellenic models, and was much attached to
the youthful Plato and his teacher Sokrates.
60. Q. At the age of fifteen where was Philip taken as a hostage? A. To
Thebes.
61. Q. How long did he remain there? A. Three years.
62. Q. Though a hostage how was he welcomed? A. He was honorably
and cordially welcomed, received a scientific and oratorical training, and
studied philosophy.
63. Q. Almost from the beginning of his reign what income did Philip
receive from the gold-producing regions of Mount Pangæus? A. According
to Diodorus a yearly income of one thousand talents.
64. Q. How did this income compare with that received by the Athenians
and the Spartans? A. It was greater than that which the Athenians and the
Spartans obtained in the very acme of their power.
65. Q. What steps did Philip take to make his army more efficient? A. He
reorganized the army and effected a complete transformation in their
armament and accomplishments.
66. Q. What was the most formidable part of the army as organized by
Philip? A. The Macedonian phalanx.
67. Q. What was the principal weapon of the soldiers serving in the
phalanx? A. A long pike called the sarissa, twenty-one feet in length.
68. Q. After his return from Corinth in 337 B. C. what did Philip do in
regard to the invasion of Asia? A. He made so many preparations for his
intended expedition into Asia that he exhausted his accumulated treasures.

69. Q. What steps did he take in the spring of 336 B. C. to begin
hostilities against the Persians? A. He sent to Asia a portion of the
Macedonian army, under Parmenio and Attalus, to begin hostilities at once
until he assumed command of the expedition.
70. Q. What was the result of a quarrel that occurred about this time
between Philip and one of his wives, Olympias, the mother of Alexander?
A. Olympias went to her brother, the King of Epirus, and Alexander soon
followed her, and expressed strong resentment at the treatment of his
mother.
71. Q. In what way did Philip seek to reconcile the parties to this quarrel,
and at the same time ally himself to the King of Epirus? A. By giving the
King of Epirus his daughter by Olympias, Kleopatra, in marriage.
72. Q. How were the nuptials celebrated? A. With many splendid and
costly entertainments.
73. Q. During the festivities how did Philip come to his death? A. As he
was walking toward the door of the theater he was suddenly assassinated by
Pausanias, one of the body-guard of the king.
74. Q. At what age did Philip die, and how long was his reign? A. He
died at the age of forty-seven, after a reign of twenty-three years.
75. Q. Who succeeded him to the throne? A. His son, Alexander the
Great.
76. Q. When was Alexander born? A. In July, 356 B. C.
77. Q. What is said of Alexander and the Iliad? A. One of the first books
that he read was the Iliad, to which he became devotedly attached, and a
copy of which, corrected, as it is said, by Aristotle, he carried with him in
his military campaigns.
78. Q. What was the effect of the reception of the news of the death of
Philip at Athens and elsewhere? A. There was an outbreak, caused
especially by Demosthenes, who represented his death as holding forth new
hopes of freedom to the city. There was also much disturbance in other
Hellenic cities.

79. Q. When Alexander was informed of this crisis of affairs what steps
did he take? A. He hastened to Hellas with a considerable army, reaching
there within two months of the death of his father.
80. Q. What action was taken by a common council of the Greeks that
Alexander assembled at Corinth? A. The council gave him, as it had done to
Philip two years before, the hegemony of the expedition against Asia. The
Lacedæmonians alone stood aloof, refusing all concurrence.
81. Q. After his return to Macedonia, where did Alexander next go to
secure his domains? A. Into Thrace and bordering regions where he
subdued the tribes and brought them under his subjection.
82. Q. In the meantime what Hellenic city revolted from the rule of
Alexander? A. Thebes.
83. Q. What followed Alexander’s immediate march from the north to
Thebes? A. The city was taken after a desperate resistance, six thousand of
the inhabitants slain, thirty thousand sold into slavery, and the houses
leveled to the ground.
84. Q. Upon his return to Macedonia what did Alexander institute? A.
Magnificent sacrifices to the gods, and scenic contests in honor of the god
Zeus and the Muses.
85. Q. Who was now upon the throne of the Persian empire? A. Darius
Codomannus.
86. Q. When did Alexander commence his invasion of Asia? A. In the
year 334 B. C.
87. Q. What was the size of the Macedonian army that Alexander led
into Asia? A. Thirty thousand infantry and forty-five hundred cavalry.
88. Q. Where did he first encounter the Persian army? A. At the river
Granicus.
89. Q. What was the result of the engagement that followed? A. The
army of Alexander forced the passage of the river in the face of the enemy
and entirely routed the Persian forces.

90. Q. What followed Alexander’s march through Asia Minor? A. Many
cities surrendered without opposition, and the others he reached he
subdued.
91. Q. As he was marching further into Asia, who now advanced to meet
Alexander? A. Darius himself with an immense army equipped in great
splendor.
92. Q. Where did the hostile armies encounter each other? A. On the
plains of Issus.
93. Q. What was the result of the battle there fought? A. The Persians
were completely routed with great loss, and Darius saved himself only by
precipitate flight.
94. Q. What two cities refused to submit to Alexander, and were taken
by him only after prolonged sieges? A. Tyre and Gaza.
95. Q. Into what country did Alexander next march, and what great
commercial city did he there found? A. Into Egypt, where he founded
Alexandria.
96. Q. Where did Alexander again encounter the Persian army, and with
what results? A. On the plains of Arbela, eastward of the Tigris. The
immense army of the Persians was either cut to pieces, captured, or
dispersed, and no subsequent attempt was made to gather together a large
regular force.
97. Q. What two great capitals of Persia now surrendered to Alexander
without a struggle? A. Babylon and Susa.
98. Q. Into what region did Alexander further extend his conquests? A.
Into India.
99. Q. Upon his return from India, when and where did Alexander die?
A. At Babylon in the year 323 B. C.
100. Q. What became of the countries subdued by Alexander after his
death? A. The empire was subjected to protracted civil wars, and was
subsequently separated into numerous small kingdoms.

II.—FIFTY QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS ON AMERICAN
LITERATURE.

1. Q. As soon as the English colonists landed on American shores, at
Jamestown and Plymouth, for what purpose did they begin to think of the
establishment of schools of sound learning? A. In Virginia, for the purpose
of educating the Indians, and in Massachusetts Bay for the supply of church
pastors.
2. Q. Until politics began to interest the colonists in a vital manner, what
formed the bulk of the issues of the press? A. Religious books and tracts.
3. Q. What was the first book written and printed in New England? A.
The Bay Psalm Book.
4. Q. Of all the theological writers of the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries, who were the most voluminous? A. Increase Mather and his son
Cotton. The publications of the former numbered eighty-five, and of the
latter no less than three hundred and eighty-two.
5. Q. What is the chief monument of the industry and scholarship of
John Eliot, the “Apostle to the Indians?” A. His translation of the entire
Bible into the Indian tongue. This appeared in two parts, the New Testament
in 1661, and the whole Bible in 1663, and was the labor of the unaided
Eliot.
6. Q. What are the names of three minor writers of the seventeenth
century? A. Capt. John Smith, Gov. John Winthrop, and Michael
Wigglesworth.
7. Q. Upon what work does the reputation of Jonathan Edwards as
philosopher and theologian chiefly rest? A. His great treatise on the
“Freedom of the Will,” written about the middle of the eighteenth century.
8. Q. Who were the principal leaders in the eighteenth century of the
school of philosophy which Edwards shaped? A. Samuel Hopkins,
Nathaniel Emmons and Timothy Dwight.
9. Q. What is one of the most remarkable of the names of great
Americans in the eighteenth century? A. Benjamin Franklin, who was a

master in whatever branch of learning he touched.
10. Q. What is one of the best known of Franklin’s works? A. Poor
Richard’s Almanac.
11. Q. What are the names of three minor writers of the eighteenth
century? A. William Stith, David Brainerd and John Woolman.
12. Q. Of what character was a large part of the books and pamphlets
written during the revolutionary period? A. It was necessarily of temporary
interest, and of little value as literature.
13. Q. In what particular did George Washington excel as a writer? A. As
a letter writer.
14. Q. What are some of the most noted productions of Thomas
Jefferson? A. Notes on Virginia, his Correspondence, and the Declaration of
Independence.
15. Q. What was the Federalist? A. It was a collection of essays
published periodically, and arguing in favor of the Constitution of the
United States adopted in 1789, and was the concerted work of Alexander
Hamilton, James Madison and John Jay.
16. Q. What work of Thomas Paine has always had a wide circulation
chiefly among the lower classes? A. The Age of Reason. It advocates a pure
deism, but its method of criticism and temper of attack are now generally
repudiated by more scholarly writers of the same school.
17. Q. Who was the first American poet to attain eminence? A. Philip
Freneau, a Huguenot by descent and a New Yorker by birth.
18. Q. Who was the first American novelist and what was his first work?
A. Charles Brockden Brown, and his first work called “Wieland” was
printed in 1798.
19. Q. For what are the histories written during the last century chiefly
useful? A. As authorities for later writers.
20. Q. Who were two biographical writers of the last century? A.
William Wirt, who wrote a readable life of Patrick Henry, and Chief Justice

John Marshall, who prepared a standard life of Washington.
21. Q. What was incident to the beginning of the present century being
marked by a considerable controversial excitement among the New England
clergy? A. The spread of Unitarian views in and around Boston.
22. Q. Who were the Unitarian leaders in this controversy? A. William
Ellery Channing, the Henry Wares, father and son, and Andrew Norton.
23. Q. By whom were the conservative Congregationalists championed?
A. By Noah Worcester, of Salem, and Moses Stewart and Leonard Woods,
professors in the theological seminary at Andover.
24. Q. What is the principal theological work that has appeared since
Edward’s famous treatise? A. The “Systematic Theology” of Charles
Hodge, professor in Princeton Seminary.
25. Q. What two college presidents have devoted much thought and
ability to mental science? A. Mark Hopkins, of Williams, and Noah Porter,
of Yale.
26. Q. What two names are prominent in the literature of Church
history? A. Dr. Philip Schaff and Prof. W. G. T. Shedd.
27. Q. To whom is the term “the Knickerbocker writers” applied? A. To
certain authors who began to write soon after the beginning of the century,
who were for the most part residents of New York, and who were in some
cases descendants of the old Dutch stock.
28. Q. What are the names of four prominent writers included under this
head? A. Washington Irving, James Kirke Paulding, Joseph Rodman Drake,
and Fitz-Greene Halleck.
29. Q. What are the names of five poets made celebrated by single
pieces? A. Francis Scott Key, Samuel Woodworth, John Howard Payne,
Albert G. Greene, and William Augustus Muhlenberg.
30. Q. What are the titles of the pieces for which they are celebrated? A.
“The Star Spangled Banner,” “The Old Oaken Bucket,” “Home, Sweet
Home,” “Old Grimes is Dead,” and “I would not live alway.”

31. Q. What eminent name connected the earlier and later days of our
literature? A. William Cullen Bryant.
32. Q. Who are termed the five great American poets? A. William Cullen
Bryant, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, John Greenleaf Whittier, Oliver
Wendell Holmes, and James Russell Lowell.
33. Q. Who was an entirely original figure in American literature? A.
Edgar Allen Poe.
34. Q. What are the names of ten persons prominent as orators during the
present century? A. Webster, Calhoun, Clay, Everett, Choate, Seward,
Sumner, Winthrop, Garrison, and Phillips.
35. Q. What are the names of five prominent American historians of the
present century? A. Richard Hildreth, George Bancroft, John G. Palfrey,
William H. Prescott, and John Lothrop Motley.
36. Q. What three names are eminent in the literature of Arctic travel? A.
Elisha Kent Kane, Charles F. Hall, and Isaac I. Hayes.
37. Q. Who was the first writer of American fiction whose works were
extensively read? A. James Fenimore Cooper.
38. Q. What American author has James Russell Lowell called the
greatest imaginative writer since Shakspere? A. Nathaniel Hawthorne.
39. Q. What work has had the greatest success of any American book?
A. Harriet Beecher Stowe’s “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” a novel directed against
slavery. Between five and six hundred thousand copies have been sold in
this country alone, and it has been forty times translated.
40. Q. Who is the most distinguished of American essayists? A. Ralph
Waldo Emerson.
41. Q. Give the chief among standard editions of Shakspere that have
been edited in this country. A. Those of Richard Grant White and Horace
Howard Furness.
42. Q. Who are the authors of three notable histories of the late civil
war? A. Horace Greeley, Alexander H. Stephens, and Dr. John W. Draper.

43. Q. What recent American author attained eminence as a writer of
travels, of novels, and as a poet? A. Bayard Taylor.
44. Q. What two poets are the chief American kindred of the English
pre-Raphaelites? A. Walt Whitman and Joaquin Miller; but their kinship is
one of nature and not of imitation.
45. Q. Who was the originator of a popular dialect poetry of the time,
which has found a troop of imitators? A. John Hay.
46. Q. What author has found a special field in novels of pioneer life in
the uncivilized outposts of Western civilization? A. Edward Eggleston.
47. Q. Who is called the best of American writers of juveniles? A.
Louisa May Alcott.
48. Q. Give the names of three prominent humorists. A. Charles Farrar
Browne, Henry W. Shaw, and David R. Locke.
49. Q. What American writer has devoted the greater part of his literary
life to the production of biographies? A. James Parton.
50. Q. Who has enjoyed the acquaintance of more English and American
authors than any other of our writers? A. James T. Fields.

EDITOR’S OUTLOOK.
THE TENTH ASSEMBLY.

Ten years ago the First Assembly offered to the world the Chautauqua
Idea. It promised an almost ideal summer life, where health and thought and
brotherly love should abound. Ten years have passed, and now the question
is, has the scheme been carried out? Is the Assembly a practical idea, and is
it a permanency? The answers are most decided. The original plan has not
only been put into practice, but, when enlarged an hundred fold, has been
proven practicable. Is it a permanency may be a harder question, but the
tenth Assembly has, we believe, in many ways proven it so. First, the
character and growth of all departments of Chautauqua work show them to
be needed institutions, and necessary institutions, as a rule, become
permanent. The steady, healthy growth of the different branches of work
shows how enduring is the Idea; the Normal department increased its
alumni this year to over 1,200; its plans for future work are much more
elaborate than ever before, its course of study much superior. The annual
report from the School of Languages shows a steady increase. Over two
hundred full tickets were sold in the school this year, and twenty-six
different states were represented.
The Teachers’ Retreat for 1883 shows a great increase over previous
years:
In 1879 there were enrolled 15 members.
In 1880 there were enrolled 133 members.
In 1881 there were enrolled 105 members.
In 1882 there were enrolled 76 members.
In 1883 there were enrolled 223 members.
The C. L. S. C. has reached the enormous membership of nearly 50,000.
Besides the advance in the different schools, the attendance at the Assembly

was unprecedented. In the earlier years of an institution this might mean
very little—a boom, and nothing more—but in the tenth year, when the
place has become well-known, it does mean a great deal. These people, too,
were not all new friends. Chautauqua has been able to keep its old friends,
while every season it has added hosts of new ones. The whole exterior
showed it. When streets are lighted by the electric light, and houses are built
on stone foundations, lathed and plastered, and furnished with modern
improvements, a town has reached a period of durability. Things are built to
stay. Chautauqua puts up no more shanties. It has become a city, not of a
day but for all time.
The genuine hearty enthusiasm which animates the workers and friends
of the movement is, to us, a most excellent reason for believing the
institution lasting. There is a feeling among many that enthusiasm is a
weakness, a quality not exactly in good form, not in keeping with cultured
minds. This is a mistake. Enthusiasm, combined with good sense and
industry, is the best equipment for any enterprise. As Emerson says, “A man
is at his best when enthusiastic,” and we believe Chautauqua is most
successful when most enthusiastic—most sure of permanence because
capable of always inspiring others with enduring enthusiasm.
The great Assembly opens its doors to every one, but few realize the real
value of the idea, or appreciate the conditions of society which make
feasible such an idea. Said an eminent German, after having studied the
Assembly thoroughly: “You Americans do not appreciate this wonderful
plant of yours. In my country we could not have a Chautauqua; no other
country under the sun could support such an institution. It is peculiarly
American.” We do not appreciate the Idea. It is too ideal for the practical
minds of the day. But though we may not grasp its full meaning, the Tenth
Assembly has proven that people are beginning to understand the
practicability, the breadth, and the permanence of the Chautauqua Idea.

THE C. L. S. C. AN EDUCATIONAL NECESSITY OF THE
TIMES.

Necessity is a word which in its use depends on circumstances. What is
necessary to a people in one age may not have been to their ancestors a
generation earlier. Time was when the masses of men were not required to
act with intelligence of their own, but to follow the decree of the privileged
few or obey the behest of the autocratic individual. Illustrations of such a
state of society remain. They are to be found wherever the autocracy or
oligarchy, whether political or ecclesiastical, continues its sway.
Under such conditions it is easily seen that the only education required is
obedience, blind and unquestioning. All that goes beyond this only makes
the individual unhappy and embarrasses authority. Hence, since her
ambition has been absolute power, the wisdom of that favorite motto of the
Romish church, “keep the people in ignorance,” a motto which she has
done her best to put in practice.
But our age and civilization have fallen upon other conditions.
Obedience is still required, and indeed ever must be, but it is no longer with
eyes tight shut, but open; and we are not only encouraged, but by the very
conditions of society, are required to ask questions concerning the very
grounds of obedience. Something has taken the place of infallible Church
and infallible State. That something is enlightened conscience and educated
judgment.
In this country the corner-stone of whose stability and permanence must
rest on obedience born of intellectual and moral enlightenment, some things
have become, and daily are becoming more and more apparent. It is
apparent that universal education of a certain kind, a kind that includes to
no small degree both head and heart, must go with universal suffrage. It is
neither treason nor heresy to say that in the light of experience and of the
signs of the times, neither our common schools on the one hand, nor our
academies, colleges and universities on the other, are competent to meet and
provide for all the educational needs of the American people. Too much can
not be said in praise of these institutions. They have been the conservators
of our national ideas in the past. But we are growing, and citizenship means

higher responsibilities and higher obligations than aforetime. The common
school which fits a man for the transactions of ordinary business and
prepares the foundation for a higher development, does a great work; but
the man who settles down to life without further inspiration and opportunity
can hardly be fitted for the higher work and duties of the home and society.
Whence then comes, or can come, this inspiration and better preparation?
Thus far in our history it has come through the seminary and college. But it
is evident that not more than one in twenty of the American youth can have
these higher advantages. Reduce the expense to the minimum and there are
still insurmountable barriers in the way. It needs no argument, therefore, to
show that an organization with the plans, aims and methods of the
Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle has a mission which bears the
sanction of necessity. The wide gap between the common school and the
college must be filled, and only can be filled by that which brings the means
of education to the home; to the youth learning his trade, to the man or
woman in the midst of daily duties and employments. The demand is for
that which will fill the atmosphere about life with aspiration and the spirit
of inquiry. It is for that which will furnish suggestions, a plan and a guide to
lead the inquiring mind. Precisely this is the C. L. S. C. Here is its mission
and here its necessity—and the necessity likewise of all kindred similar
organizations which are yet to spring up and follow in her course.

THE SHAKSPERE CONTROVERSY.

It is strange how sometimes an opinion altogether untenable, which
some one has broached, is taken up by others, and comes in time to be
accepted as true by a considerable number. It was some twenty-five years
ago that a Miss Delia Bacon published an elaborate argument whose end
was to show that not William Shakspere, but Lord Francis Bacon, was the
author of the immortal plays which bear the former’s name. She first gave
her discovery—unquestionably of the highest importance, if correct—to the
world in a magazine article; but afterward embodied it in quite a large
volume, to which Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote an introduction, though he
did not accept the writer’s theory. This was the beginning of a controversy
which is still alive. Perhaps the number has never been very large of those
who believe that the glory of Shakspere belongs to Bacon; but there have
always been some to entertain the preposterous notion, from Miss Bacon to
Mrs. Henry Pott.
The latter lady has recently issued a book which has excited some
interest. The title—somewhat drawn out—is, “The Promus of Formularies
and Elegancies (being private notes, circa 1594, hitherto unpublished) of
Francis Bacon, illustrated and elucidated by passages from Shakspere.”
Mrs. Pott’s undertaking is one more in the line of Miss Delia Bacon. By a
comparison of the Bacon notes, in forms of expression and thought, with
passages of the Shakspere tragedies and comedies, she endeavors to verify
the theory that the great English philosopher—author of the “Novum
Organum,” and characterized by Pope as “the greatest, wisest, and meanest
of mankind”—is also author of the works accorded to the Bard of Avon.
That she succeeds in her task she herself evidently entertains no doubt, but
probably not many will agree with her. She finds correspondences and
similarities in passages compared where her readers will try in vain to find
them; and it is putting the matter mildly to say that her undertaking is a
great failure.
Considerable ingenuity and much enthusiasm have been shown by
advocates of the theory which makes Lord Bacon the author of the works of
Shakspere; but the theory is an absurd one, with nothing whatever to
support it. The internal evidence, contained in the works of the two authors,

not only gives the theory no support, but is alone enough to a sane mind
completely to demolish it. The whole cast of Bacon’s mind, as shown by his
known writings, was as unlike as it could be to that of the person who wrote
the Shakspere dramas and sonnets. And what other evidence is adduced by
those who would have us transfer to another the laurels of the man who was
easily the greatest mind in all literature? None whatever. The truth is, it is
the improbability from the nature of the case—or, as some would say, the
impossibility—that such a person as William Shakspere, the son of a
Stratford yeoman, with limited educational opportunities, whose youth was
by no means promising, should have produced the works to which for two
centuries his name has been attached, which is at the bottom of the theory
which gives the authorship to another. This, and nothing else, originated the
idea, and keeps it alive. We are told that to believe in Shakspere as the
author of these works, universally acknowledged as unapproached and
unapproachable, is to believe a miracle. “Whence hath this man this
wisdom?” it is asked, as was asked of the Divine Man; and we are reminded
that the stream never rises higher than the fountain. Shakspere could not
have produced the works—the power was not in him, it is reasoned, but the
wise Bacon might have done it; therefore people search for the wherewithal
to substantiate an assumption giving the authorship to the latter. But we
must believe the miracle; there is no escape. Did Milton write the “Paradise
Lost,” and Lord Bacon the “Novum Organum?” Is the Iliad the work of
Homer? It is just as certain that the Shakspere writings were the offspring of
Shakspere’s genius. We admit the marvel, but there is no setting aside of the
fact. And when we are asked to explain how this man could have acquired
the power to produce these prodigies of human genius, we can only say, the
Maker gave it to him.

EDITOR’S NOTE-BOOK.
The C. L. S. C. received special attention at the summer Assemblies. By
referring to the reports published elsewhere in this number, our readers will
learn how the Chautauqua spirit spreads, and how the organization is being
strengthened in all parts of the land.

Recent Presidents of the United States have shown their taste for
recreation very positively. Ex-President Grant was fond of good horses and
rapid driving; ex-President Hayes visited colleges during the
commencement season, and loved his farm as a quiet retreat; President
Arthur turns from his arduous labors to the rod and line and long journeys,
such as he has made to Florida and the West during the past year.

We can supply complete sets of the Chautauqua Assembly Daily
Herald for 1883, for $1.00, postage paid by us. Also complete sets of The
Chautauquan of volume two and three.

Prophecies are numerous from newspaper men as to who will be the
candidates for the presidency in 1884. Ex-Secretary Blaine is reported as
having turned his attention to literature, and announces that he is not a
candidate; Mr. Tilden has retired to the privacy of Gramercy Park; ex-
Secretary Windom, it is said by the wise ones, went out of the succession
when he failed of a re-election to the Senate. Reports are rife in influential
political circles that the Secretary of War is likely to be one of his martyred
fathers’ successors, but time alone will show us the true successor.

The Chautauquan opens the fourth volume in a new dress. Our printer
does the work on copper-faced type, prepared with especial reference to the
neat and attractive typographical appearance of the magazine.

Mr. A. M. Sullivan, in a recent number of the Nineteenth Century,
discusses “Irish Emigration as a remedy for Irish trouble in Ireland.” He
says: “Of the group of dynamite conspirators who stood in the dock at
Newgate the other day—men whose frightful purpose was to bury London
in ruins—not one was born on Irish soil. All were the sons or grandsons of
men swept away from ‘congested districts,’ and sent or driven to America
‘for the good of those who went, and of those who were left behind.’
Whoever has recently traveled in America must have been struck with the
fact that animosity toward England often displays itself more strongly in the
second and third generations of Irish Americans than in the men who were
actually driven forth.”

The present administration is not all-powerful in a certain kind of its
political movements. The Secretary of the Treasury, Mr. Folger, was
defeated for Governor of New York in the election last fall, and recently Mr.
Chandler, Secretary of the Navy, failed of an election to the United States
Senate in the New Hampshire Legislature.

Chautauqua grows in favor with the public. The Ohio State Teacher’s
Association held their annual convention there in July last, and with social
gatherings, lectures, and discussions on live questions, in the educational
world, they made it an interesting and profitable session. The Pennsylvania
State Teacher’s Association will hold their convocation at Chautauqua Lake
for 1884. It is an endorsement of Chautauqua when large bodies of
educators go from their own States into another to hold their most important
gatherings. The National Teacher’s Association met at this center once, and
the Ohio people have been there twice. It is this sort of gatherings that the
Chautauqua authorities are especially pleased to welcome to the parks,
public buildings, and all the privileges of the classic groves.

The Royal Humane Society, in its recently issued report, gives the
following advice to swimmers and bathers: “Avoid bathing within two
hours after a meal. Avoid bathing when exhausted by fatigue, or from any
other cause. Avoid bathing when the body is cooling after perspiration.
Avoid bathing altogether in the open air if, after having been a short time in
the water, it causes a sense of chilliness with numbness of the hands and

feet. Bathe when the body is warm, provided no time is lost in getting into
the water. Avoid chilling the body by sitting or standing undressed on the
banks or in boats after having been in the water. Avoid remaining too long
in the water; leave the water immediately if there is the slightest feeling of
chilliness.”

The West promises to set a good example to the East in more than one
question of morals. The case deserving of mention now is where Governor
Crittenden, of Missouri, and Governor Glick, of Kansas, and their Attorney-
Generals, notified the two prize-fighters, Slade and Mitchell, that even
training for a prize-fight would send them to the State prison. This so
alarmed them that they quit the United States and went to Mexico. The laws
of the older States are as severe on this brutal practice as those of Missouri
and Kansas, but the laxity in the enforcement of the laws is the only license
that prize-fighters find to justify their training in New York, Boston, and
other old cities. Some of our authorities could profitably “go West” to study
how to enforce civil law.

Dr. John Roche, an English physician who has had remarkable
experiences, gives as his conclusion that cholera is purely and simply a
specific fever, only inferior in its ravages to yellow fever, and closely allied
to it. Cholera has a period of incubation varying from two to fourteen days;
prone to attack the enervated and those subject to depression from any
cause. It is contagious, and liable to occur periodically about every ten
years in some parts of India. It seems to have visited the British Isles about
every sixteen years, and as the period has elapsed since the last outbreak, it
is more than likely to occur this year. Those persons who indulge in no
enervating habits, and take nothing internally which would arrest the
secretions nor too drastically stimulate them, and partake of nothing which
is highly fermentable, may safely feel that they are cholera-proof during an
epidemic.

“The Old South Lectures for Young People” is a pleasing and successful
plan for teaching the History of America. Lectures are held Wednesday
afternoon at the “Old South Meeting House,” Boston, and the subjects
illustrate well the tenor of the meeting. Thus for September the topics are

“Franklin,” “How to Study American History,” “The Year 1777,” “History
in the Boston Streets.”

In the C. L. S. C. Commencement report the Lutheran has been omitted
from the list of denominations represented in the class of ’83.

On Sunday, the ninth day of September, the steamship “Nevada” landed
682 Mormons at New York, being the fourth company that has been
brought over this year. H. H. Evans, the secretary, said that there were in the
company 269 British, 106 Swiss and Germans, 284 Scandinavians, and 23
returning missionaries. “Every emigrant,” he added, “paid his or her
passage over. No aid is afforded them by the Mormon Church. The majority
have a little money with them, enough to establish themselves in America.
They will locate in sixteen towns in Utah. All we do is to protect them
while traveling from Liverpool to Utah. Some of these immigrants have
been years laying up money to pay their passage to this country.” One of the
Mormon immigrants did not go through to Utah. Her name is Regina
Andersen. She is a Swedish woman, spinster, thirty-five years of age, and is
afflicted with blindness. Her brother Leander and her sister Anna, who live
in Philadelphia, had heard of her intention to go to Utah and were at Castle
Garden to intercept her before the “Nevada” arrived. They insisted upon
talking with their blind sister, and soon succeeded in persuading her to
abandon the Mormon proselytes and prepare to go with her relatives to
Philadelphia. The Mormon missionaries were strongly opposed to the
woman leaving the party, but the matter was brought before Superintendent
Jackson, and the woman was permitted to go to Philadelphia with her
brother. She had prepaid her passage to Salt Lake and did not receive her
money back. In conversation with a reporter the woman appeared not to
know anything about the peculiar institution of the Mormon Church—
polygamy. Congress could quite as consistently, and with better results to
the country, enact a law to prevent this kind of emigration, than the one they
have leveled against the Chinese. Why not meet Mormonism at New York
harbor and prevent this infamous traffic in human lives?

The Rev. Henry A. Powell, in his Congregational church in
Williamsburg, on a Sunday in September discussed “The sorrows of the

Free Thinkers as revealed at their recent convention,” from this suggestive
text: “The show of their countenances doth witness against them.” He stated
that over their platform were hung the pictures of Thomas Paine, R. G.
Ingersoll, and D. M. Bennett—Paine author of a book against the Bible—
Ingersoll, dispenser of blasphemy—Bennett, who not long since served a
term in the penitentiary for sending foul literature through the mails. “How
much better than such visionary wanderings is the old story of a living
Father in heaven, of a Savior who suffered on the cross, and angel visitants
to lead us from the life mortal to the life immortal.”

We call the attention of our readers to the notice elsewhere in this
number of the “Chautauqua School of Languages,” the different
departments of which are to be organized into schools of correspondence,
so that students may, at their homes, study Hebrew, German, French, etc.,
by corresponding with competent teachers. This is a rare opportunity for
members of the C. L. S. C., or any others who desire, to study the
languages, but are denied the privileges of the schools. Next month we shall
introduce the “Normal Work” into The Chautauquan, in a few initial
chapters, from the pens of Rev. Dr. Hurlbut and Prof. R. S. Holmes, and
thus extend to our readers through the year the privilege of pursuing this
course, which is a main feature of the summer assemblies.

The telegraph operators have by their strike provoked a general
discussion in the press of the telegraph system of the country, besides
exciting the attention of Postmaster-General Gresham, who promises to
discuss in his annual report to Congress the practicability of the general
government assuming control of all telegraph lines as it does of the postal
service. It ought to work as well in the United States as it does in England.
Mr. Fawcett, Postmaster-General of Great Britain, reports that “the number
of telegraph messages sent in the United Kingdom during the last year was
32,092,026.” Mr. Fawcett says that it has been decided that as soon as the
necessary increase of plant can be made, the minimum charge for inland
telegrams will be reduced from 24 to 12 cents.

A correspondent says, under date of September 9: “The last spike on the
Northern Pacific Road was driven this afternoon on the Pacific slope of the

Rocky Mountains, 2,500 miles from the Atlantic Ocean, and 800 miles from
the Pacific, and 91 years after the idea of a highway from the Lakes to the
Pacific was first suggested by Thomas Jefferson.”

Analogous to the Normal Class Bible work of the Chautauqua
University is a new movement in Russia. An organization called the
Stundists bind themselves to devote an hour (stunde) every day to the study
of the Bible. The society has grown to immense proportions, and is said to
have reclaimed whole villages from drunkenness and crime.

Keshub Chunder Sen, the famous leader of the Brahmo Somaj, is about
to visit Europe and America again, to preach a new development of faith, in
which Hinduism and Christianity are to be combined. Little good, we fear,
will result from the Baboo’s advocacy of an eclectic system; for his
adherents will be content to stop in that dim twilight instead of advancing
into the full glory of the divine day. The teaching of the leader himself
seems latterly to have degenerated into ceremonialism, and he attributes
marvelous influence to external things; while some of his followers are
giving themselves up with the wildest enthusiasm to perfect a sacred dance
of a complex kind, organized with rotating rings of participants dressed in
garbs of varied hue. All this mummery is a sad disappointment for those
who hoped that Chunder Sen might destroy heathenism besides purifying it.

The Louisville Courier of August 9, referring to the great Exposition,
speaks thus of one of the exhibitions: “Last night the electric railway was in
operation, and the locomotive with two cars attached made the tour of the
park. To-day it will be running constantly, and visitors will see what is the
latest achievement of science. It is an event of extraordinary interest. It is
the practical demonstration of the power of electricity applied as a motor.
Without fire or smoke, with no visible agent to propel it, moved by an
unseen and even as yet an almost unknown influence, it follows the path
marked out with all the celerity and certainty demanded by the most
cautious and practical.”

The directors of the Western Union Telegraph Company have made a
concession to their employes by issuing the following order: “Commencing
to-day (September 1), seven and a half hours actual service in this office
during week nights will constitute a day’s work, or, in other words, the
hours of the night force will be from 5:30 p. m. till 1:30 a. m., allowing
thirty minutes for lunch. Sunday service will be paid for the same as other
over-time services, at the rate of one-seventh of a day’s pay for each hour.
All payments for over-time, including Sunday service, or for a fractional
part of a month, will be based upon the number of week days in the month.”

Professor Bell is reported as saying in a recent conversation that there
are more than 500,000 telephones in use in the United States, and the
manufacturers are unable to supply the demand so as to keep abreast of
orders. He said that the progress of the telephone would have been greater
but for the opposition of the telegraph companies, who regarded it as, in
part, a competitor instead of an ally. In other countries the telegraph
companies had very generally adopted the telephone as an auxiliary,
especially at city branch offices and at small offices in the country.

Lord Chief Justice Coleridge, of England, is in this country, a guest of
the American bar. English judges may be aristocrats, but they are generally
above corruption. It is to be hoped that American ideas of judicial dignity
and honor will be raised by what they may observe in this chief of the
English bench.

Not a few Americans were astonished at the display of local
manufactures which Ireland exhibited in the Boston “Foreign Art and
Industrial Exhibition.” Among the objects were bog-wood ornaments, hair
ornaments, furniture, marbles, sculpture, etc. The variety of work suggests
that in the not distant future the distressed country will have manufactures
and arts to employ its people. Its resources are particularly fitted to certain
arts. Thus few countries boast so great a variety of marbles; its clay is
particularly suitable for modeling: osiers grow readily on its soil, and the
natural woods are incomparably fine. With these industries developed, and
a system of railroads through the country, much would be done toward
settling the Irish question.

When a woman marries, and learns that in the race of life she is better
qualified to earn the family living than her husband, it will be helpful to
have a precedent at hand by which to govern her husband. Here is one,
taken from the communication of a successful working woman to a Boston
exchange. She says: “I am a milliner, and have made between $1,500 and
$2,500 a year in my business for some time past. I married four years ago.
My husband is kind and good looking, but he never learned any trade, had
no profession and could not average $500 a year. I loved him, however, but
I saw that it would not do to depend upon him, so I kept on with my
business. After a time I think he got a little lazy, and as we were both away
during the day, we could not keep house and got sick of boarding. Finally I
proposed that he should keep house and I would run the business and find
the money. We have now lived very happily in this way for two years. My
husband rises and builds the fire, gets breakfast, and I leave at 7:45 for my
place of business. He does the washing, ironing, and cleaning, and I do not
know of any woman who can beat him. He is as neat as wax, and can cook
equal to any one in town. It may be an isolated case, but I think the time has
now come when women who have husbands to support should make them
do the work; otherwise they are luxuries we must do without.”

EDITOR’S TABLE.
Q. What is the meaning of boycotting?
A. Boycott was the name of an Irish landlord whose tenants refused to
gather his crops, and endeavored to prevent his doing it. To withhold help
and patronage, or in any way to obstruct or hinder the business of another—
a meanness that is despicable—is to treat him as the tenants treated Mr.
Boycott.

Q. Was General Grant the author of the expression, “We have met the
enemy and they are ours?”
A. The above is very like to Cæsar’s “veni, vidi, vici,” and as a general’s
report of a great victory just won, is remarkable for its comprehensive
brevity. The words, though in harmony with the character and sayings of
General Grant, were not, if used, original with him, but should be credited
to Commodore Perry.

Q. Why was the son of Edward III. called the Black Prince?
A. Because of his black armor.

Q. Was Alexander of Macedon, who informed the Greeks before the
battle of Platea of the intended attack, their ally?
A. Not openly; but secretly he was, or the information would not have
been given.

Q. Where is the mountain lake Shawangunk?
A. The Shawangunk (Shon-gum) mountain is properly a continuation of
the Appalachian, or Allegheny chain in New York. Like the Adirondacks
and Catskills, south of the Mohawk, also outliers of the chain, it seems
separated by intervening lands of lower elevation, and the relationship is
shown by similarity of the geological formation. Look for the lake in the
same region. It is probably small, and may not be found on most maps.

Q. Was it not Leonidas who, before the battle of Thermopylæ, said, “The
Persians are so numerous that their arrows will darken the sun?”

A. No. Those words may intimate fear of the overwhelming force of the
enemy, and the Greek historian does not mention their author, but says that
on hearing them, a brave Spartan replied: “All the better, as we will then
fight in the shade.”

Q. Which construction? “Thus were music and poetry born in the same
family, and we shall notice how that they have clung to each other,” or
“how they have clung?”
A. The latter is preferred. The conjunctive particle is not needed, and
though occasionally thus used by a good writer, only encumbers the
sentence.

Q. Who was Caius Cestius?
A. A wealthy Roman citizen of the Augustan age, a client of Cicero, of
not much distinction, though rich. A part of his estate was employed in
building for him a fine mausoleum, which remains to the present day,
though most of the contemporaneous surrounding structures have long been
in ruins. Near it lie the ashes of Keats and Shelly. After the death of Keats,
Shelly wrote of his friend: “He lies in the lovely, romantic cemetery of the
Protestants of Rome, near the tomb of Caius Cestius, and within the mossy
walls and towns, now mouldering and desolate, which formed the circuit of
ancient Rome. The cemetery is an open space among the ruins, covered in
winter with violets and daisies. It might make one in love with death to
think of being buried in so sweet a place.”

Q. Can you give the date of Mrs. Browning’s birth in 1809?
A. We can not. No records now at hand give the day or month. It is not
best to be greatly troubled over our want of information on the subject, as it
is quite safe to conclude she was “well born” some time during the year
mentioned. Many other eminent writers have gone into history with the
same uncertainty as to the day of their birth.

Q. In whose hands was the government of the United States from 1783
to 1789?
A. Nominally in the Continental Congress—a kind of quasi central
government. Practically in the hands of the colonists and their legislators.
The war was ended and the United States acknowledged a free, sovereign,
and independent nation. But they were, as yet, united only by the “articles