The Chautauquan, Vol. 03, January 1883 / A Monthly Magazine Devoted to the Promotion of True Culture. / Organ of the Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle

by Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle; Chautauqua Institution

A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM.

There was a law in the city of Athens, which gave to its citizens the power of compelling their daughters to marry whomsoever they pleased; for upon a daughter’s refusing to marry the man her father had chosen to be her husband, the father was empowered by this law to cause her to be put to death; but as fathers do not often desire the death of their own daughters, even though they do happen to prove a little refractory, this law was seldom or never put into execution, though perhaps the young ladies of that city were not unfrequently threatened by their parents with the terrors of it.

There was one instance, however, of an old man, whose name was Egeus, who actually did come before Theseus (at that time the reigning duke of Athens), to complain that his daughter Hermia, whom he had commanded to marry Demetrius, a young man of a noble Athenian family, refused to obey him, because she loved another young Athenian, named Lysander. Egeus demanded justice of Theseus, and desired that this cruel law might be put in force against his daughter.

Hermia pleaded in excuse for her disobedience, that Demetrius had formerly professed love for her dear friend Helena, and that Helena loved Demetrius to distraction; but this honorable reason, which Hermia gave for not obeying her father’s command, moved not the stern Egeus.

Theseus, though a great and merciful prince, had no power to alter the laws of his country; therefore he could only give Hermia four days to consider of it, and at the end of that time, if she still refused to marry Demetrius, she was to be put to death.

When Hermia was dismissed from the presence of the duke, she went to her lover Lysander, and told him the peril she was in, and that she must either give up him and marry Demetrius, or lose her life in four days.

Lysander was in great affliction at hearing these evil tidings, but recollecting that he had an aunt who lived at some distance from Athens, and that at the place where she lived the cruel law could not be put in force against Hermia (this law not extending beyond the boundaries of the city), he proposed to Hermia that she should steal out of her father’s house that night, and go with him to his aunt’s house, where he would marry her. “I will meet you,” said Lysander, “in the wood a few miles without the city; in that delightful wood, where we have so often walked with Helena in the pleasant month of May.”

To this proposal Hermia joyfully agreed, and she told no one of her intended flight but her friend Helena. Helena (as maidens will do foolish things for love) very ungenerously resolved to go and tell this to Demetrius, though she could hope no benefit from betraying her friend’s secret, but the poor pleasure of following her faithless lover to the wood; for she well knew that Demetrius would go thither in pursuit of Hermia.

The wood in which Lysander and Hermia proposed to meet, was the favorite haunt of those little beings known by the name of fairies. Oberon, the king, and Titania, the queen of the fairies, with all their tiny train of followers, in this wood held their midnight revels.

Between this little king and queen of sprites there happened at this time a sad disagreement, they never met by moonlight in the shady walks of this pleasant wood, but they were quarreling, till all their fairy elves would creep into acorn-cups and hide themselves for fear. The cause of this unhappy disagreement was Titania’s refusing to give Oberon a little changeling boy, whose mother had been Titania’s friend; and upon her death the fairy queen stole the child from its nurse, and brought him up in the woods.

The night on which the lovers were to meet in this wood, as Titania was walking with some of her maids of honor, she met Oberon attended by his train of fairy courtiers. “Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania,” said the fairy king. The queen replied, “What, jealous Oberon, is it you?” “Fairies, skip hence; I have forsworn his company.” “Tarry, rash fairy,” said Oberon; “am not I thy lord? Why does Titania cross her Oberon? Give me your little changeling boy to be my page.”

“Set your heart at rest,” answered the queen; “your whole fairy kingdom buys not the boy of me.” She then left her lord in great anger.

“Well, go your way,” said Oberon; “before the morning: dawns I will torment you for this injury.” Oberon then sent for Puck, his chief favorite and privy counselor.

Puck (or, as he was sometimes called, Robin Goodfellow) was a shrewd and knavish sprite, that used to play comical pranks in the neighboring villages; sometimes getting into the dairies and skimming the milk, sometimes plunging his light and airy form into the butter-churn, and while he was dancing his fantastic shape in the vessel, in vain the dairy-maid would labor to change her cream into butter: nor had the village swains any better success; whenever Puck chose to play his freaks in the brewing-copper, the ale was sure to be spoiled. When a few good neighbors were met to drink some comfortable ale together, Puck would jump into the bowl of ale in the likeness of a roasted crab, and when some old goody was going to drink, he would bob against her lips, and spill the ale over her withered chin; and presently after, when the same old dame was gravely seating herself to tell her neighbors a sad and melancholy story, Puck would slip her three-legged stool from under her, and down toppled the poor old woman, and then the gossips would hold their sides and laugh at her, and swear they never wasted a merrier hour.

“Come hither, Puck,” said Oberon to this little merry wanderer of the night; “fetch me the flower which maids call Love in Idleness; the juice of that little purple flower, laid on the eye-lids of those who sleep, will make them, when they awake, doat on the first thing they see. Some of the juice of that flower I will drop on the eyelids of my Titania, when she is asleep; and the first thing she looks upon when she opens her eyes, she will fall in love with, even though it be a lion, or a bear, a meddling monkey, or a busy ape: and before I will take this charm from off her sight, which I can do with another charm I know of, I will make her give me that boy to be my page.”

Puck, who loved mischief to his heart, was highly diverted with this intended frolic of his master, and ran to seek the flower; and while Oberon was waiting the return of Puck, he observed Demetrius and Helena enter the woods; he overheard Demetrius reproaching Helena for following him, and after many unkind words on his part, and gentle expostulations from Helena, reminding him of his former love, and professions of true faith to her, he left her (as he said) to the mercy of the wild beasts, and she ran after him as swiftly as she could.

The fairy king, who was always friendly to true lovers, felt great compassion for Helena; and perhaps, as Lysander said they used to walk by moonlight in this pleasant wood, Oberon might have seen Helena in those happy times when she was beloved by Demetrius. However that might be, when Puck returned with the little purple flower, Oberon said to his favorite, “Take a part of the flower: there has been a sweet Athenian lady here, who is in love with a disdainful youth; if you find him sleeping, drop some of the love-juice in his eyes, but contrive to do it when she is near him, that the first thing he sees when he awakes may be this despised lady. You will know the man by the Athenian garments which he wears.” Puck promised to manage this matter very dexterously; and then Oberon went, unperceived by Titania, to her bower where she was preparing to go to rest. Her fairy bower was a bank, where grew wild thyme, cowslips, and sweet violets, under a canopy of woodbine, musk-roses and eglantine. There Titania always slept some part of the night; her coverlet the enamelled skin of a snake, which, though a small mantle, was wide enough to wrap a fairy in.

He found Titania giving orders to her fairies, how they were to employ themselves while she slept. “Some of you,” said her majesty, “must kill cankers in the musk-rose buds, and some wage war with the bats for their leathern wings, to make my small elves coats; and some of you keep watch that the clamorous owl, that nightly hoots, come not near me: but first sing me to sleep.” Then they began to sing this song:—

You spotted snakes with double tongue,

Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen;

Newts and blind-worms do no wrong,

Come not near our Fairy Queen.

Philomel, with melody,

Sing in our sweet lullaby,

Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby:

Never harm, nor spell, nor charm,

Come our lovely lady nigh;

So good night with lullaby.

When the fairies had sung their queen asleep with this pretty lullaby, they left her, to perform the important services she had enjoined them. Oberon then softly drew near his Titania, and dropt some of the love-juice on her eye-lids, saying—

What thou seest when thou dost wake,

Do it for thy true-love take.

But to return to Hermia, who made her escape out of her father’s house that night, to avoid the death she was doomed to for refusing to marry Demetrius. When she entered the wood, she found her dear Lysander, waiting for her, to conduct her to his aunt’s house; but before they had passed half through the wood, Hermia was so much fatigued, that Lysander, who was very careful of this dear lady, that had proved her affection for him even by hazarding her life for his sake, persuaded her to rest till morning on a bank of soft moss; and, lying down himself on the ground at some little distance, they soon fell fast asleep. Here they were found by Puck, who, seeing a handsome young man asleep, and perceiving that his clothes were made in the Athenian fashion, and that a pretty lady was sleeping near him, concluded that this must be the Athenian maid and her disdainful lover, whom Oberon had sent him to seek; and he naturally enough conjectured that, as they were alone together, she must be the first thing he would see when he awoke; so without more ado, he proceeded to pour some of the juice of the little purple flower into his eyes. But it so fell out that Helena came that way, and, instead of Hermia, was the first object Lysander beheld when he opened his eyes; and, strange to relate, so powerful was the love-charm, all his love for Hermia vanished away, and Lysander fell in love with Helena.

Had he first seen Hermia when he awoke, the blunder Puck committed would have been of no consequence, for he could not love that faithful lady too well; but for poor Lysander to be forced by a fairy love-charm to forget his own true Hermia, and to run after another lady, and leave Hermia asleep quite alone in a wood at midnight, was a sad chance indeed.

Thus this misfortune happened. Helena, as has been before related, endeavored to keep pace with Demetrius when he ran away so rudely from her; but she could not continue this unequal race long, men being always better runners in a long race than ladies. Helena soon lost sight of Demetrius; and as she was wandering about, dejected and forlorn, she arrived at the place where Lysander was sleeping. “Ah!” said she, “this is Lysander lying on the ground; is he dead or asleep?” Then gently touching him, she said, “Good sir, if you are alive, awake.” Upon this Lysander opened his eyes, and (the love-charm beginning to work) immediately addressed her in terms of extravagant love and admiration; telling her, she as much excelled Hermia in beauty as a dove does a raven, and that he would run through fire for her sweet sake; and many more such lover-like speeches. Helena, knowing Lysander was her friend Hermia’s lover, and that he was solemnly engaged to marry her, was in the utmost rage when she heard herself addressed in this manner; for she thought (as well she might) that Lysander was making a jest of her. “Oh!” said she, “why was I born to be mocked and scorned by every one? Is it not enough, is it not enough, young man, that I can never get a sweet look or a kind word from Demetrius; but you, sir, must pretend, in this disdainful manner, to court me? I thought, Lysander, you were a lord of more true gentleness.” Saying these words in great anger, she ran away; and Lysander followed her, quite forgetful of his own Hermia, who was still asleep.

When Hermia awoke, she was in a sad fright at finding herself alone. She wandered about the wood, not knowing what was become of Lysander, or which way to go to seek for him. In the meantime Demetrius, not being able to find Hermia and his rival Lysander, and fatigued with his fruitless search, was observed by Oberon fast asleep. Oberon had learnt, by some questions he had asked of Puck, that he had applied the love-charm to the wrong person’s eyes; and now, having found the person first intended, he touched the eyelids of the sleeping Demetrius with the love-juice, and he instantly awoke; and the first thing he saw being Helena, he, as Lysander had done before, began to address love speeches to her; and just at that moment Lysander, followed by Hermia (for, through Puck’s unlucky mistake, it was now become Hermia’s turn to run after her lover), made his appearance; and then Lysander and Demetrius, both speaking together, made love to Helena, they being each one under the influence of the same potent charm.

The astonished Helena thought that Demetrius, Lysander, and her once dear friend Hermia, were all in a plot together to make a jest of her.

Hermia was as much surprised as Helena; she knew not why Lysander and Demetrius, who both before loved her, were now become the lovers of Helena; and to Hermia the matter seemed to be no jest.

The ladies, who before had always been the dearest of friends, now fell to high words together.

“Unkind Hermia,” said Helena, “it is you have set Lysander on, to vex with mock praises; and your other lover, Demetrius, who used almost to spurn me with his foot, have you not bid him call me goddess, nymph, rare, precious, and celestial? He would not speak thus to me whom he hates, if you did not set him on to make a jest of me. Unkind Hermia, to join with men in scorning your poor friend. Have you forgot our school-day friendship? How often, Hermia, have we two, sitting on one cushion, both singing one song, with our needles working the same flower, both on the same sampler wrought; growing up together in fashion of a double cherry, scarcely seeming parted? Hermia, it is not friendly in you, it is not maidenly, to join with men in scorning your poor friend.”

“I am amazed at your passionate words,” said Hermia. “I scorn you not; it seems you scorn me.”

“Ay, do,” returned Helena, “persevere; counterfeit serious looks, and make mouths at me when I turn my back; then wink at each other, and hold the sweet jest up. If you had any pity, grace, or manners, you would not use me thus.”

While Helena and Hermia were speaking these angry words to each other, Demetrius and Lysander left them, to fight together in the wood for the love of Helena. When they found the gentlemen had left them, they departed, and once more wandered weary in the wood in search of their lovers.

As soon as they were gone, the king fairy, who with little Puck had been listening to their quarrels, said to him, “This is your negligence, Puck; or did you do this wilfully?” “Believe me, king of shadows,” answered Puck, “it was a mistake; did not you tell me I should know the man by his Athenian garments? However, I am not sorry this has happened, for I think their jangling makes excellent sport.” “You heard,” said Oberon, “that Demetrius and Lysander are gone to seek a convenient place to fight in. I command you to overhang the night with a thick fog, and lead these quarrelsome lovers so astray in the dark, that they shall not be able to find each other. Counterfeit each of their voices to the other, and with bitter taunts provoke them to follow you, while they think it is their rival’s tongue they hear. See you do this, till they are so weary they can go no farther; and when you find they are asleep, drop the juice of this other flower into Lysander’s eyes, and when he awakes he will forget his new love for Helena, and return to his old passion for Hermia; and then the two fair ladies may each one be happy with the man she loves, and they will think all that has passed a vexatious dream. About this quickly, Puck; and I will go and see what sweet love my Titania has found.”

Titania was still sleeping, and Oberon, seeing a clown near her, who had lost his way in the wood, and was likewise asleep—“This fellow,” said he, “shall be my Titania’s true-love;” and clapping an ass’s head over the clown’s, it seemed to fit him as well as if it had grown upon his own shoulders. Though Oberon fixed the ass’s head on very gently, it awakened him, and rising up, unconscious of what Oberon had done to him, he went toward the bower where the fairy queen slept.

“Ah! what angel is that I see!” said Titania, opening her eyes, and the juice of the little purple flower beginning to take effect: “are you as wise as you are beautiful?” “Why, mistress,” said the clown, “if I have wit enough to find the way out of this wood, I have enough to serve my turn.”

“Out of the wood do not desire to go,” said the enamored queen. “I am a spirit of no common rate. I love you. Go with me, and I will give you fairies to attend upon you.” She then called four of her fairies: their names were Pease-blossom, Cobweb, Moth, and Mustard-seed. “Attend,” said the queen, “upon this sweet gentleman; hop in his walks, and gambol in his sight; feed him with grapes and apricots, and steal for him the honey-bags from the bees. Come sit with me,” she said to the clown, “and let me play with your amiable hairy cheeks, my beautiful ass; and kiss your fair large ears, my gentle joy!”

“Where is Pease-blossom?” said the ass-headed clown, not much regarding the fairy queen’s courtship, but very proud of his new attendants. “Here, sir,” said little Pease-blossom.

“Scratch my head,” said the clown. “Where is Cobweb?” “Here, sir,” said Cobweb. “Good Mr. Cobweb,” said the foolish clown, “kill me the red humble-bee on the top of that thistle yonder; and, good Mr. Cobweb, bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret yourself too much in the action, Mr. Cobweb, and take care the honey-bags break not; I should be sorry to have you overflown with a honey-bag. Where is Mustard-seed?”

“Here, sir,” said Mustard-seed; “what is your will?”

“Nothing,” said the clown, “but to help Mr. Pease-blossom to scratch; I must go to a barber’s, Mr. Mustard-seed, for methinks I am marvelous hairy about the face.”

“My sweet love,” said the queen; “what will you have to eat? I have a venturous fairy shall seek the squirrel’s hoard, and fetch you some new nuts.” “I had rather have a handful of dried peas,” said the clown, who with his ass’s head had got an ass’s appetite. “But, I pray, let none of your people disturb me, for I have a mind to sleep.”

“Sleep, then,” said the queen, “and I will wind you in my arms. O how I love you! how I dote upon you!”

When the fairy king saw the clown sleeping in the arms of his queen, he advanced within her sight, and reproached her with having lavished her favors upon an ass. This she could not deny, as the clown was then sleeping within her arms, with his ass’s head crowned by her with flowers. When Oberon had teased her for some time, he again demanded the changeling boy; which she, ashamed of being discovered by her lord with her new favorite, did not dare to refuse him.

Oberon, having thus obtained the little boy he had so long wished for to be his page, took pity on the disgraceful situation into which, by his merry contrivance, he had brought his Titania, and threw some of the juice of the other flower into her eyes; and the fairy queen immediately recovered her senses, and wondered at her late dotage, saying how she now loathed the sight of the strange monster. Oberon likewise took the ass’s head from off the clown, and left him to finish his nap with his own fool’s head upon his shoulders. Oberon and his Titania being now perfectly reconciled, he related to her the history of the lovers, and their midnight quarrels; and she agreed to go with him, and see the end of their adventures.

The fairy king and queen found the lovers and their fair ladies at no great distance from each other, sleeping on a grass plot; for Puck, to make amends for his former mistake, had contrived to bring them all to the same spot, unknown to each other; and he had removed the charm from off the eyes of Lysander with the antidote the fairy king gave to him.

Hermia first awoke, and finding her lost Lysander asleep so near her, was looking at him, and wondering at his strange inconstancy. Lysander presently opening his eyes, and seeing his dear Hermia, recovered his reason, which the fairy-charm had before clouded, and with his reason, his love for Hermia; and they began to talk over the adventures of the night, doubting if these things had really happened, or if they had both been dreaming the same bewildering dream.

Helena and Demetrius were by this time awake; and a sweet sleep having quieted Helena’s disturbed and angry spirits, she listened with delight to the professions of love which Demetrius still made to her, and which, to her surprise as well as pleasure, she began to perceive were sincere.

These fair night-wandering ladies, now no longer rivals, became once more true friends; all the unkind words which had passed were forgiven, and they calmly consulted together what was best to be done in their present situation. It was soon agreed that, as Demetrius had given up his pretensions to Hermia, she should endeavor to prevail upon her father to revoke the cruel sentence of death which had been passed against her. Demetrius was preparing to return to Athens for this friendly purpose, when they were surprised with the sight of Egeus, Hermia’s father, who came to the wood in pursuit of his runaway daughter.

When Egeus understood that Demetrius would not now marry his daughter, he no longer opposed her marriage with Lysander, but gave his consent that they should be wedded on the fourth day from that time, being the same day on which Hermia had been condemned to lose her life; and on that same day Helena joyfully agreed to marry her beloved and now faithful Demetrius.

The fairy king and queen, who were invisible spectators of this reconciliation, and now saw the happy ending of the lovers’ history brought about through the good offices of Oberon, received so much pleasure, that these kind spirits resolved to celebrate the approaching nuptials with sports and revels throughout their fairy kingdom.

And now, if any are offended with this story of fairies and their pranks, as judging it incredible and strange, they have only to think that they have been asleep and dreaming, and that all these adventures were visions which they saw in their sleep: and I hope none of my readers will be so unreasonable as to be offended with a pretty harmless Midsummer Night’s Dream.

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THE WINTER’S TALE.

Leontes, king of Sicily, and his queen, the beautiful and virtuous Hermione, once lived in the greatest harmony together. So happy was Leontes in the love of this excellent lady, that he had no wish ungratified, except that he sometimes desired to see again, and present to his queen, his old companion and school-fellow, Polixenes, king of Bohemia. Leontes and Polixenes were brought up together from their infancy; but being, by the death of their fathers, called to reign over their respective kingdoms, they had not met for many years, though they frequently interchanged gifts, letters, and loving embassies.

At length, after repeated invitations, Polixenes came from Bohemia to the Sicilian court, to make his friend Leontes a visit.

At first this visit gave nothing but pleasure to Leontes. He recommended the friend of his youth to the queen’s particular attention, and seemed in the presence of his dear friend and old companion to have his felicity quite completed. They talked over old times; their school-days and their youthful pranks were remembered and recounted to Hermione, who always took a cheerful part in these conversations.

When, after a long stay, Polixenes was preparing to depart, Hermione, at the desire of her husband, joined her entreaties to his that Polixenes would prolong his visit.

And now began this good queen’s sorrow; for Polixenes refusing to stay at the request of Leontes, was won over by Hermione’s gentle and persuasive words to put off his departure for some weeks longer. Upon this, although Leontes had so long known the integrity and honorable principles of his friend Polixenes, as well as the excellent disposition of his virtuous queen, he was seized with an ungovernable jealousy. Every attention Hermione showed to Polixenes, though by her husband’s particular desire, and merely to please him, increased the unfortunate king’s malady; and from being a loving and a true friend, and the best and fondest of husbands, Leontes became suddenly a savage and inhuman monster. Sending for Camillo, one of the lords of his court, and telling him of the suspicion he entertained, he commanded him to poison Polixenes.

Camillo was a good man; and he, well knowing that the jealousy of Leontes had not the slightest foundation in truth, instead of poisoning Polixenes, acquainted him with the king his master’s orders, and agreed to escape with him out of the Sicilian dominions; and Polixenes, with the assistance of Camillo, arrived safe in his own kingdom of Bohemia, where Camillo lived from that time in the king’s court, and became the chief friend and favorite of Polixenes.

The flight of Polixenes enraged the jealous Leontes still more; he went to the queen’s apartment, where the good lady was sitting with her little son Mamillus, who was just beginning to tell one of his best stories to amuse his mother, when the king entered, and taking the child away, sent Hermione to prison.

Mamillus, though but a very young child, loved his mother tenderly; and when he saw her so dishonored, and found she was taken from him to be put into a prison, he took it deeply to heart, and drooped and pined away by slow degrees, losing his appetite and his sleep, till it was thought his grief would kill him.

The king, when he had sent his queen to prison, commanded Cleomenes and Dion, two Sicilian lords, to go to Delphos, there to inquire of the oracle at the temple of Apollo if his queen still really loved him.

When Hermione had been a short time in prison, she gave birth to a daughter; and the poor lady received much comfort from the sight of her pretty baby, and she said to it, “My poor little prisoner, I am as innocent as you are.” Hermione had a kind friend in the noble-spirited Paulina, who was the wife of Antigonus, a Sicilian lord; and when the lady Paulina heard her royal mistress had got a daughter, she went to the prison where Hermione was confined, and she said to Emilia, a lady who attended upon Hermione, “I pray you, Emilia, tell the good queen, if her majesty dare trust me with her little babe, I will carry it to the king, its father; we do not know how he may soften at the sight of his innocent child.” “Most worthy madam,” replied Emilia, “I will acquaint the queen with your noble offer; she was wishing to-day that she had any friend who would venture to present the child to the king.” “And tell her,” said Paulina, “that I will speak boldly to Leontes in her defence.” “May you be forever blessed!” said Emilia, “for your kindness to our gracious queen!” Emilia then went to Hermione, who joyfully gave up her baby to the care of Paulina, for she had feared that no one would dare venture to present the child to its father.

Paulina took the new-born infant, and forcing herself into the king’s presence, notwithstanding her husband, fearing the king’s anger, endeavored to prevent her, she laid the babe at its father’s feet, and Paulina made a noble speech to the king in defence of Hermione, and she reproached him severely for his inhumanity, and implored him to have mercy on his innocent wife and child. But Paulina’s spirited remonstrances only aggravated Leontes’s displeasure, and he ordered her husband Antigonus to take her from his presence.

When Paulina went away, she left the little baby at its father’s feet, thinking, when he was alone with it, he would look upon it, and have pity on its helpless innocence.

The good Paulina was mistaken; for no sooner was she gone than the merciless father ordered Antigonus, Paulina’s husband, to take the child, and carry it out to sea, and leave it upon some desert shore to perish.

Antigonus, unlike the good Camillo, too well obeyed the orders of Leontes; for he immediately carried the child on shipboard, and put out to sea, intending to leave it on the first desert coast he could find.

So strongly was the king prejudiced against Hermione, that he would not wait for the return of Cleomenes and Dion, whom he had sent to consult the oracle of Apollo at Delphos; but before the queen was recovered, and while she still grieved for the loss of her precious baby, he had her brought to a public trial before all the lords and nobles of his court. And when all the great lords, the judges, and all the nobility of the land were assembled together to try Hermione, and that unhappy queen was standing as a prisoner before her subjects to receive their judgment, Cleomenes and Dion entered the assembly, and presented to the king the answer of the oracle sealed up; and Leontes commanded the seal to be broken, and the words of the oracle to be read aloud, and these were the words: “Hermione is innocent, Polixenes blameless, Camillo a true subject, Leontes a jealous tyrant, and the king shall live without an heir if that which is lost be not found.” The king would give no credit to the words of the oracle; he said it was a falsehood invented by the queen’s friends, and he desired the judge to proceed in the trial of the queen. But while Leontes was speaking, a man entered and told him that the prince Mamillus, hearing that his mother was to be tried for her life, struck with grief and shame, had suddenly died.

Hermione, upon hearing of the death of this dear affectionate child, who had lost his life in sorrowing for her misfortune, fainted; and Leontes, pierced to the heart by the news, began to feel pity for his unhappy queen, and he ordered Paulina, and the ladies who were her attendants, to take her away, and use means for her recovery. Paulina soon returned, and told the king that Hermione was dead.

When Leontes heard that the queen was dead, he repented of his cruelty to her; and now that he thought his ill usage had broken Hermione’s heart he believed her innocent; and he now thought the words of the oracle were true, as he knew “if that which was lost was not found” which he concluded was his young daughter, he should be without an heir, the young prince Mamillus being dead, and he would give his kingdom now to recover his lost daughter; and Leontes gave himself up to remorse, and passed many years in mournful thoughts and repentant grief.

The ship in which Antigonus carried the infant princess out to sea was driven by a storm upon the coast of Bohemia, the very kingdom of the good king Polixenes. Here Antigonus landed, and here he left the little baby.

Antigonus never returned to Sicily to tell Leontes where he had left his daughter, for, as he was going back to the ship, a bear came out of the woods and tore him to pieces; a just punishment on him for obeying the wicked order of Leontes.

The child was dressed in rich clothes and jewels; for Hermione had made it very fine when she sent it to Leontes, and Antigonus had pinned a paper to its mantle, with the name Perdita written thereon, and words obscurely intimating its high birth and untoward fate.

This poor deserted baby was found by a shepherd. He was a humane man, and so he carried the little Perdita home to his wife, who nursed it tenderly; but poverty tempted the shepherd to conceal the rich prize he had found: therefore he left that part of the country, that no one might know where he got his riches, and with part of Perdita’s jewels he bought herds of sheep, and became a wealthy shepherd. He brought up Perdita as his own child, and she knew not she was any other than a shepherd’s daughter.

The little Perdita grew up a lovely maiden; and though she had no better education than that of a shepherd’s daughter, yet so did the natural graces she inherited from her royal mother shine forth in her untutored mind, that no one from her behavior would have known she had not been brought up in her father’s court.

Polixenes, the king of Bohemia, had an only son, whose name was Florizel. As this young prince was hunting near the shepherd’s dwelling, he saw the old man’s supposed daughter, and the beauty, modesty, and queen-like deportment of Perdita caused him instantly to fall in love with her. He soon, under the name of Doricles, and in the disguise of a private gentleman, become a constant visitor at the old shepherd’s house.

Florizel’s frequent absence from court alarmed Polixenes; and setting people to watch his son, he discovered his love for the shepherd’s daughter.

Polixenes then called for Camillo, the faithful Camillo, who had preserved his life from the fury of Leontes, and desired that he would accompany him to the house of the shepherd, the supposed father of Perdita.

Polixenes and Camillo, both in disguise, arrived at the old shepherd’s dwelling, while they were celebrating the feast of sheep-shearing; and though they were strangers, yet at the sheep-shearing every guest being made welcome, they were invited to walk in, and join in the general festivity.

Nothing but mirth and jollity was going forward. Tables were spread, and great preparations were making for the rustic feast. Some lads and lasses were dancing on the green before the house, while others of the young men were buying ribands, gloves, and such toys, of a peddler at the door.

While this busy scene was going forward, Florizel and Perdita sat quietly in a retired corner, seemingly more pleased with the conversation of each other, than desirous of engaging in the sports and silly amusements of those around them.

The king was so disguised that it was impossible his son could know him; he therefore advanced near enough to hear the conversation. The simple yet elegant manner in which Perdita conversed with his son did not a little surprise Polixenes. He said to Camillo, “This is the prettiest low-born lass I ever saw; nothing she does or says but looks like something greater than herself, too noble for this place.”

Camillo replied, “Indeed she is the very queen of curds and cream.”

“Pray, my good friend,” said the king to the old shepherd, “what fair swain is that talking with your daughter?” “They call him Doricles,” replied the shepherd. “He says he loves my daughter; and to speak truth there is not a kiss to choose which loves the other best. If young Doricles can get her, she will bring him that he little dreams of,” meaning the remainder of Perdita’s jewels; which, after he had bought herds of sheep with part of them, he had carefully hoarded up for her marriage portion.

Polixenes then addressed his son. “How now, young man!” said he; “your heart seems full of something that takes off your mind from feasting. When I was young, I used to load my love with presents; but you have let the peddler go, and have bought your lass no toy.”

The young prince, who little thought he was talking to the king his father, replied, “Old sir, she prizes not such trifles; the gifts which Perdita expects from me are locked up in my heart.” Then turning to Perdita, he said to her, “O hear me, Perdita, before this ancient gentleman, who it seems was once himself a lover; he shall hear what I profess.” Florizel then called upon the old stranger to be a witness to a solemn promise of marriage which he made to Perdita, saying to Polixenes, “I pray you, mark our contract.”

“Mark your divorce, young sir,” said the king, discovering himself. Polixenes then reproached his son for daring to contract himself to this low-born maiden, calling Perdita “shepherd’s-brat, sheep-hook,” and other disrespectful names; and threatening, if ever she suffered his son to see her again, he would put her, and the old shepherd her father, to a cruel death.

The king then left them in great wrath, and ordered Camillo to follow him with Prince Florizel.

When the king had departed, Perdita, whose royal nature was roused by Polixenes’s reproaches, said, “Though we are all undone, I was not much afraid; and once or twice I was about to speak, and tell him plainly that the self-same sun that shines upon his palace, hides not his face from our cottage, but looks on both alike.” Then sorrowfully she said, “But now I am awakened from this dream. I will queen it no farther. Leave me, sir; I will go milk my ewes and weep.”

The kind-hearted Camillo was charmed with the spirit and propriety of Perdita’s behavior; and perceiving that the young prince was too deeply in love to give up his mistress at the command of his royal father, he thought of a way to befriend the lovers, and at the same time to execute a favorite scheme he had in his mind.

Camillo had long known that Leontes, the king of Sicily, was become a true penitent; and though Camillo was now the favored friend of King Polixenes, he could not help wishing once more to see his late royal master and his native home. He therefore proposed to Florizel and Perdita that they should accompany him to the Sicilian court, where he would engage Leontes should protect them, till through his mediation they could obtain pardon from Polixenes and his consent to their marriage.

To this proposal they joyfully agreed; and Camillo, who conducted everything relative to their flight, allowed the old shepherd to go along with them.

The shepherd took with him the remainder of Perdita’s jewels, her baby clothes, and the paper which he had found pinned to her mantle.

After a prosperous voyage, Florizel and Perdita, Camillo and the old shepherd, arrived in safety at the court of Leontes, who still mourned his dead Hermione and his lost child, received Camillo with great kindness, and gave a cordial welcome to Prince Florizel. But Perdita, whom Florizel introduced as his princess, seemed to engross all Leontes’ attention. Perceiving a resemblance between her and his dead queen Hermione, his grief broke out afresh, and he said, such a lovely creature might his own daughter have been, if he had not so cruelly destroyed her. “And then, too,” said he to Florizel, “I lost the society and friendship of your brave father, whom I now desire more than my life once again to look upon.”

When the old shepherd heard how much notice the king had taken of Perdita, and that he had lost a daughter, who was exposed in infancy, he fell to comparing the time when he found the little Perdita with the manner of its exposure, the jewels and other high tokens of its high birth; from all which it was impossible for him not to conclude that Perdita and the king’s lost daughter were the same.

Florizel and Perdita, Camillo and the faithful Paulina, were present when the old shepherd related to the king the manner in which he had found the child, and also the circumstances of Antigonus’s death, he having seen the bear seize upon him. He showed the rich mantle in which Paulina remembered Hermione had wrapped the child; and he produced a jewel which she remembered Hermione had tied about Perdita’s neck, and he gave up the paper, which Paulina knew to be the writing of her husband; it could not be doubted that Perdita was Leontes’ own daughter. But oh! the noble struggles of Paulina, between sorrow for her husband’s death, and joy that the oracle was fulfilled, in the king’s heir, his long-lost daughter, being found. When Leontes heard that Perdita was his daughter, the great sorrow that he felt that Hermione was not living to behold her child, made him that he could say nothing for a long time, but, “O, thy mother, thy mother!”

Paulina interrupted this joyful yet distressful scene, with saying to Leontes, that she had a statue, newly finished by that rare Italian master, Julio Romano, which was such a perfect resemblance of the queen, that would his majesty be pleased to go to her house and look upon it, he would almost be ready to think that it was Hermione herself. Thither then they all went; the king anxious to see the semblance of his Hermione, and Perdita longing to behold what the mother she never saw did look like.

When Paulina drew back the curtain which concealed this famous statue, so perfectly did it resemble Hermione, that all the king’s sorrow was renewed at the sight; for a long time he had no power to speak or move.

“I like your silence, my liege,” said Paulina, “it the more shows your wonder. Is not this statue very like your queen?”

At length the king said, “O, thus she stood, even with such majesty, when I first wooed her. But yet, Paulina, Hermione was not so aged as this statue looks.” Paulina replied, “So much the more the carver’s excellence, who has made the statue as Hermione would have looked had she been living now. But let me draw the curtain, sire, lest, presently, you think it moves.”

The king then said, “Do not draw the curtain! Would I were dead! See, Camillo, would you not think it breathed? Her eye seems to have motion in it.” “I must draw the curtain, my liege,” said Paulina. “You are so transported, you will persuade yourself the statue lives.” “O, sweet Paulina,” said Leontes, “make me think so twenty years together! Still methinks there is an air comes from her. What fine chisel could ever yet cut breath? Let no man mock me, for I will kiss her.” “Good my lord, forbear!” said Paulina. “The ruddiness upon her lip is wet; you will stain your own with oily painting. Shall I draw the curtain?” “No, not these twenty years,” said Leontes.

Perdita, who all this time had been kneeling, and beholding in silent admiration the statue of her matchless mother, said now, “And so long could I stay here, looking upon my dear mother.”

“Either forbear this transport,” said Paulina to Leontes, “and let me draw the curtain, or prepare yourself for more amazement. I can make the statue move indeed; ay, and descend from off the pedestal, and take you by the hand. But then you will think, which I protest that I am not, that I am assisted by some wicked powers.” “What you can make her do,” said the astonished king, “I am content to look upon. What you can make her speak, I am content to hear; for it is as easy to make her speak as move.”

Paulina then ordered some slow and solemn music, which she had prepared for the purpose, to strike up; and to the amazement of all the beholders, the statue came down from off the pedestal, and threw its arms around Leontes’s neck. The statue then began to speak, praying for blessings on her husband, and on her child, the newly found Perdita.

No wonder that the statue hung upon Leontes’s neck, and blessed her husband and her child. No wonder, for the statue was Hermione herself, the real, the living queen.

Paulina had falsely reported to the king the death of Hermione, thinking that the only means to preserve her royal mistress’s life; and with the good Paulina Hermione had lived ever since, never choosing Leontes should know she was living, till she heard Perdita was found; for though she had long forgiven the injuries which Leontes had done to herself, she could not pardon his cruelty to his infant daughter.

His dead queen thus restored to life, his lost daughter found, the long-sorrowing Leontes could scarcely support the excess of his own happiness. And as if nothing should be wanting to complete this strange and unlooked-for joy, king Polixenes himself now entered the palace.

When Polixenes first missed his son and Camillo, knowing that Camillo had long wished to return to Sicily, he conjectured he should find the fugitives there; and following them with all speed, he happened to arrive just at this, the happiest moment of Leontes’s life.

Polixenes took a part in the general joy; he forgave his friend Leontes the unjust jealousy he had conceived against him, and they once more loved each other with all the warmth of their first boyish friendship. There was no fear that Polixenes would now oppose his son’s marriage with Perdita. She was no sheep-hook now, but the heiress of the crown of Sicily.

Thus have we seen the patient virtues of the long-suffering Hermione rewarded. That excellent lady lived many years with her Leontes and her Perdita, the happiest of mothers and queens.

[A TOUR ROUND THE WORLD.]

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By Mrs. MARY LOW DICKINSON.

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[Continued.]

“If you are going to keep a journal at all, begin the minute you take off your waterproof.” This bit of wisdom descended upon the quartette from the lips of the special correspondent of the Perkinsville Gazette, one dripping morning when we found her taking notes in the British Museum. And surely she never said a wiser thing. First impressions may not be profound or correct, or reach in any way the heart and meaning of what passes under the eye, but they are the freshest and often the only impressions worth recording. One sees more in a first day in a new city than in many subsequent days. The eyes are open then, if ever, to all little peculiarities and characteristics; the ears catch every unfamiliar tone; the perceptions are quickened into a new and vivid interest, dissipated, alas, too soon! We Americans quickly make ourselves at home. The novelty of to-day is commonplace to-morrow, and the third day’s description of an event takes only a word, where the first day’s would have received a page. And there is no haunting demon of travel quite so fiendish as the journal that must be written, and that has “got behind.” One never can quite subdue its clamor, nor does any effort at writing up the half-forgotten record satisfy its insatiate demand. All the pith and the life are gone out of the neglected recollections, and we must accept the conclusion that it is NOT safe to wait after the “water-proof” is laid aside.

That some members of our quartette did wait was, perhaps, a mercy to their friends, for it would have taken a volume to describe what they saw and did in London. That they studied their guide-books, and maps and histories, as true Chautauquans should, goes without saying. They tramped a great many miles and jostled in cabs and omnibuses a great many more, and tried the tramways and the underground road, and the penny boats upon the noiseless highway of the Thames. Somewhere they had read that the united streets of London made a stretch of over three thousand miles, and they sometimes felt as if they had traversed them all. They must visit every portion of the city, for each had its peculiar interest or charm. How could they fail, for example, to drive through the aristocratic Belgravia, the district that, within the last quarter of a century, has become a region of fine streets and spacious squares and palatial residences, transforming as well as surpassing the old West End. It seemed worth while to gaze, if only from the windows of a cab, at the residences of the real aristocracy of Britain, and better worth while to drive on, through the once beautiful and rural Chelsea, now swarming with the multitudes of London’s poor. The old city of Westminster, now swallowed up in London, whose inhabitants average a dozen inmates to every wretched home, touches Belgravia on the southeast, lying, as one writer says, “Like a filthy beggar at the rich man’s gate.” Not all the efforts of public and private philanthropy, the theories of men like Ruskin, or the practice of women like Octavia Hill, have been able to stay its ever-swelling tide of misery and sin. Strange contrast all this to the monotonous regularity of Tyburnia, whose rows on rows of handsome dwellings constitute the homes of professional men and wealthy merchants. So-called middle-class London finds its home in the Regent’s Square district. Thence, eastward still, and we find ourselves in the Bloomsbury and Bedford Square region, whose old houses, once occupied by rank and fashion, are mostly given over to lodgers like ourselves, while resident middle-class foreigners make their homes largely in the region around Leicester Square. It takes no end of wandering to familiarize the stranger with the characteristics of each district, and if one can stay in London months, it is a better way to begin than to select the special points of interest.

London is large enough for a world, and has human interests enough, if there were no other place on the planet, to occupy the time and wisdom of angels and all good men. Somebody calls it a “province covered with houses;” Carlyle spoke of it as “the tuberosity of modern civilization.” The metropolis includes more than the city of London, more than old Westminster. Its arms have stretched out until it embraces nearly forty adjacent townships and districts. Some busy-brained statistician has amused himself by treating the place as if it were a great living monster, whose gigantic throat swallows yearly over nine millions of once living creatures, either fish, flesh or fowl, washed down by fifty millions of gallons of ale and wine. No wonder that there follows close upon this statement, the grave announcement that nearly three thousand physicians are constantly hastening to and fro, and that five hundred undertakers do not suffice to meet the city’s demands. The wine and liquor merchants number nearly ten thousand, and we do not wonder, this being so, that the paupers number nearly one hundred and fifty thousand souls.

And of this great living mass of humanity, vital in every part, the “city” proper is the pulsing heart. By it we mean the space that anciently lay within the walls, keeping still with few exceptions its narrow streets and shadowy lanes; the former being the avenues of retail trade, while in the latter the wholesale trade is carried on. As space could not be commanded on the ground, the magnificent buildings required for business that manipulates the wealth of the world have had to occupy the air. Business houses stand side by side with the dark low buildings of the seventeenth century; and he who has time to penetrate some of the picturesque old mansions now used as counting-rooms, will be repaid by a sight of much that is architecturally quaint and fine. No part of London is better worth exploring than this. Our wanderers never tired of strolling from St. Paul’s, after every brief rest under the stillness of its mighty dome, into Paternoster-row, and lingering in the world of books displayed on every hand; and the weaker half of the party did not care how long they were left in the book stores, while the more active wandered off into Lombard street, among the bankers, into the exchanges, or the less imposing though no less interesting Houndsditch, the haunt of the modern Jew. All day long, from morn to night, a mighty human tide swells and surges with almost turbulent haste all through these narrow streets. One lingers and watches daily as the never-ceasing throng pours on, fascinated as by the constantly-recurring beat of the breakers upon the sea. But come down here and stand under the shadow of St. Paul’s some night, or on some calm Sunday afternoon. The very air that hangs, heavy and still with the fog-damps, above the great cross there on the old clock tower, is not stiller than the ground beneath one’s feet. The hundreds of thousands of people that composed the human throng are gone, as if the earth had opened and swallowed them. The merchants are in their homes at the West End, the clerks in their humble homes in the suburbs. Over twenty thousand buildings are left alone in the care of the police, most of them houses once occupied as dwellings, and now used for purposes of trade. There are nearly sixty churches in the district, but the Sabbath stillness of the streets is not due to the throngs gathered within the house of God. They, indeed, are almost as empty as the streets, for the residents who once rendered each parish populous are no longer here. St. Paul’s, the cathedral church of the See of London, is the present center of religious attraction, and here our travelers passed many a quiet hour, to say nothing of the more active seasons when they walked from tomb to tomb through all its length and breadth; paid their shilling and descended into the crypt and stood by the tomb of Wellington; paid another and climbed to the whispering gallery; and another and another, and went to the tower of the clock; and an extra sixpence and touched the great bell that strikes the hour. The only other service required of the bell is to toll at the deaths of members of the royal family, the bishop of London, the dean of St. Paul’s, and the mayors of London who may die in office. One and sixpence once more, and the more adventurous of the quartette climbed up and squeezed into the ball beneath the cross, while the others lingered at the golden gallery near the apex of the dome, and gazed down upon the fog, through which the roofs and towers and spires seemed like a strange shadowy spectre of a city, struggling for a tangible form. Seen from the river, or from Blackfriars Bridge, the wonderful dome stands out in all its beauty of outline; and early one morning they saw from the latter point the great cross glittering far above the city in the sunlight, which had not yet scattered the fog on which it seemed to float.

Not much time had our tourists, however, for puzzling their brains or harrowing their souls over the questions of human destiny, for their heads were filled with all sorts of associations with men and books, and they sometimes went wandering to and fro, to find the very houses where their favorite authors lived, the spots where events of interest had transpired, the places made immortal by their poets’ pens. They must have their visit to the Tower, long days in the Museum and the art galleries, for had they not, each and all, in one form or another, the genuine Kensington craze? They could not leave out any of the more common things, like a drive to Richmond Hill or an afternoon at the “Zoo.” They must go to Stoke Pogis and recite the elegy in the churchyard where Gray wrote it. They must have their day at Windsor, with its chance of seeing the queen driving in the park, and the visit to Sydenham’s Crystal Palace, and the afternoon at Hampton Court. They must stroll down by Hyde Park corner and see fashionable London dragging monotonously around the drive, or prancing on horseback through Rotten Row. They must visit the Parliament houses, and find many a still hour to linger and dream within the walls of the wonderful old Westminster Abbey, that is of itself worth crossing an ocean to see. It is not for Wesley’s grave alone that we go to the City-road Chapel, or for the grave of Watts that we enter the Bunhill Fields. It is not the tombs of the poets, statesmen and martyrs that hold our attention long, but we seek in the living of to-day for the spirit that animated the great, now dead; and eyes and ears alike are open to see and hear the indications of growth in the noblest things. It matters little that we see only the outside of Buckingham and St. James. There are fairer palaces in London than those of her princes, and to these, her edifices devoted to the alleviation of human suffering and the advancement of human progress, we turn with never-tiring interest and zeal. In this class stand her colleges and hospitals and asylums, her charitable organizations of every sort. London gives yearly in food and clothing, and in the relief of disease, over thirteen millions of dollars, to say nothing of a million more given privately by individuals. For educational and religious purposes she spends seven millions more, and yet the city is filled in certain localities with the most wretched of all citizens, the poor who are too far down to care to be lifted up.

We passed delightful days in visiting some of the oldest as well as some of the newest of the institutions of learning or charity. Among the former the famous old St. Peter’s College, founded as “a publique schoole for grammar, rethoricke and poetrie,” and the Charter House School, of which Wesley says, “I owed my health and long life to the faithfulness with which I obeyed my father’s injunction to run around the Charter House playing-green three times every morning,” and the blue-coat school, where the boys dressed in blue coat, yellow petticoat and stockings, and red leather girdle around the waist, seemed to have stepped down from the sixteenth century. Blue was originally a color only worn by dependents, and never by gentlemen, until after its use in the uniform of the British navy. In striking contrast to these we found Girton and the Wesleyan Normal College, for the training of teachers and the teaching of children. In another line of instruction the Government School of Design, at South Kensington, is doing a most interesting work. One feature of its service to the people is well worthy of imitation. Its library is rich in illustrated works, and these are open for the use, not only of artists, but of every poor working man or woman, at the price of one penny a volume. From this school large additions have been made to house decorators, designers and draughtsmen for the various manufactures and trades. All the collections of the wonderful museums of Kensington are intended to subserve the purpose of the school, of which branches have been formed in various manufacturing districts throughout England.

No philanthropic work in London will be more likely to attract the attention of Americans, than that done by the Peabody fund in the construction of the model lodging houses, where three rooms, comfortable and clean, can be hired for five shillings a week. The buildings in the various districts where they have already been erected are five stories in height, well lighted, well ventilated, and calculated in every way to make desirable homes for the very poor. Since the gift of Mr. Peabody, the corporation of London has given land and six hundred thousand dollars for the erection of model dwellings for the working people. Before them in this benevolent work has been the Baroness Burdett-Couts, whose heart has seemed to be as large as her purse. A morning spent in exploring the vicinity of Columbia Square Market showed us her four large blocks of neat houses surrounding a court all occupied now by a clean, orderly class of people. The adjoining market, built to accommodate the neighborhood on the site of the old “dust heap” was also her work. The place was one of the most filthy and pestilential haunts of vice and degradation in the city of London. Its refuse heaps were almost as high as its hovels, and foulness, moral and physical, made the spot a breeding place of disease to body and soul. These are only instances of what may be done, of what must be done, indeed, if cities like those of England and America are ever to be lifted from the pauperism that destroys soul and body alike. And the traveler, who makes his journey without securing a knowledge of what is stirring in other countries to solve the problem of helping people to help themselves, misses both the truth as to the realities of human conditions and the inspiration that comes from seeing what has been already done. The great consideration is time, which is always and everywhere too short. Our quartette labored faithfully and well, but, like other travelers, saw once what they wanted to see a dozen times, heard their favorite music in snatches and their favorite preachers sometimes once and sometimes not at all. They crowded ten objects of interest into the time fairly due to one, and left London with the feeling of a hungry man at a railway station whose bell rings just as he has taken the first bite of his dinner.

“Who was it, in Mother Goose, that ‘whipped his children and made them dance out of Ireland into France?’” asks the scribe of the quartette, lifting her pen with a characteristic motion that betrays an inclination to put it behind her ear. “’Twasn’t anybody,” answers the scholar, gruffly, who feels a coming talk in the air and does not like to be disturbed at his book. “Yes, it was!” persists the scribe, “and whoever he was, the chief is just like him. Here he is fairly lashing us about Londontown to drive us over to France.” Behind his newspaper the chief smiles. “You will be glad I hastened you, when once you are there out of this wretched fog.”

“But I haven’t had half enough of London.”

“True, and you never would have enough. It’s a place to live in, not to visit!”

“Then I’d like to live on, straight along.”

“Very good! The rest of us must go around the world.”

“But we have made a mistake! no one could do it in the time we have set.”

“A common experience, again, sister,” said the chief, who, having the times and seasons in his hands, and having been indulgent enough to stay on from day to day, was at last in a somewhat inexorable mood.

And though there was still some coaxing to stay, one bright morning found us fairly started on our dance “out of England into France.”

The morning of our departure is fine; the air delicious, a fresh breeze blowing from the west. A good course of packing lasting well into the night added physical weariness to the rather thin layer of mental fatigue consequent on keeping a journal, and therefore London seems less attractive than it did. If it were not for a faint foreboding sense that the Channel lies just before, we could even begin to be glad that the metropolis is left behind. The chief does not say, “I told you so” as he sees our spirits rise, but then the chief is—not a woman. It is soon over,—the three hours of grace that it takes us to whirl down to Folkestone, and it’s three hours of pleasure, except the last few minutes when we catch the mocking toss of the saucy white-caps on the waves. We rejoiced this morning in the wind that scattered the London fog, but now we know how felt Lot’s wife in that dire day of Sodom. Bravely as possible we march to our fate. The wicked scribe can not forbear asking the chief whose white cheeks contradict his defiant expression, if he is glad he “made her dance.” We hear people in various stages of resistance saying “this is not bad; that the channel is often worse.” “No doubt! no doubt!” but we do not care to discuss it, and the photographs of the quartette would show them seated lugubriously, with their backs to the smoke-stack, not coldly unsocial, but each meditating profoundly on topics that are not to the others of the slightest concern. They are meditating only, and, meantime that smoke-stack rides up into the air, and they with it, and it fairly seems to be intoxicated at its upper end, yet they hold fast to it and to each other down below; and then it changes its mind and seems to go down and down, until they feel as if they were in the fast diminishing turret of a monitor, and that the bottom is dropping out of the depth of the sea.

And yet they live, and revive, and when the boat touches Boulogne-sur-Mer, are ready for the French-English table d’hôte served at the railway restaurant, and the scribe at least is ready for a walk to the heights above the town, “just to look back to old England, you know,” and see what Napoleon saw when he gathered his army of nearly two hundred thousand men along this coast, and filled the harbor with his ships, and watched and waited his chance to go over and take the British bull by the horns.

“Think, sister, how the fate of the nations might have been changed, if only Napoleon had gone”—says the chief thoughtfully.

“Now, brother, if you are going to meditate, or moralize, we shall miss the train,” answers the scribe.

He looks at her gravely. “I am afraid,” he says under his breath, “that my next duty will be to train that miss.”

(To be continued.)

[THRIFT.]

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By CHARLES KINGSLEY.

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A Lecture for Women.

Consider that word thrift. If you will look at Dr. Johnson’s Dictionary, or if you know your Shakspere, you will see that thrift signified originally profits, gain, riches gotten—in a word, the marks of a man’s thriving.

How, then, did the word thrift get to mean parsimony, frugality, the opposite of waste? Just in the same way as economy—which, first, of course, meant the management of a household—got to mean also the opposite of waste.

It was found that in commerce, in husbandry, in any process, in fact, men throve in proportion as they saved their capital, their material, their force.

Now this is a great law which runs through life; one of those laws of nature—call them, rather, laws of God—which apply not merely to political economy, to commerce, and to mechanics; but to physiology, to society; to the intellect, to the heart, of every person in this room.

The secret of thriving is thrift; saving of force; to get as much work as possible done with the least expenditure of power, the least jar and obstruction, the least wear and tear.

And the secret of thrift is knowledge. In proportion as you know the laws and nature of a subject, you will be able to work at it easily, surely, rapidly, successfully; instead of wasting your money or your energies in mistaken schemes, irregular efforts, which end in disappointment and exhaustion.

The secret of thrift, I say, is knowledge. The more you know, the more you can save yourself and that which belongs to you; and can do more work with less effort.

A knowledge of the laws of commercial credit, we all know, saves capital, enabling a less capital to do the work of a greater. Knowledge of the electric telegraph saves time; knowledge of writing saves human speech and locomotion; knowledge of domestic economy saves income; knowledge of sanitary laws saves health and life; knowledge of the laws of the intellect saves wear and tear of brain; and knowledge of the laws of the spirit—what does it not save?

A well-educated moral sense, a well-regulated character, saves from idleness and ennui, alternating with sentimentality and excitement, those tender emotions, those deeper passions, those nobler aspirations of humanity, which are the heritage of the woman far more than of the man; and which are potent in her, for evil or for good, in proportion as they are left to run wild and undisciplined, or are trained and developed into graceful, harmonious, self-restraining strength, beautiful in themselves, and a blessing to all who come under their influence.

What, therefore, I recommend to ladies in this lecture is thrift; thrift of themselves and of their own powers: and knowledge as the parent of thrift.

“To fit women for the more enlightened performance of their special duties;” to help them towards learning how to do better what we doubt not they are already doing well; is, I honestly believe, the only object of the promoters of this scheme.

Let us see now how some of these special duties can be better performed by help of a little enlightenment as to the laws which regulate them.

Now, no man will deny—certainly no man who is past forty-five, and whose digestion is beginning to quail before the lumps of beef and mutton which are the boast of a well-regulated kitchen, and to prefer, with Justice Shallow, and, I presume, Sir John Falstaff also, “any pretty little tiny kickshaws”—no man, I say, who has reached that age, but will feel it a practical comfort to him to know that the young ladies of his family are at all events good cooks; and understand, as the French do, thrift in the matter of food.

Neither will any parent who wishes, naturally enough, that his daughters should cost him as little as possible; and wishes, naturally enough also, that they should be as well dressed as possible, deny that it would be a good thing for them to be practical milliners and mantua-makers; and, by making their own clothes gracefully and well, exercise thrift in clothing.

But, beside this thrift in clothing, I am not alone, I believe, in wishing for some thrift in the energy which produces it. Labor misapplied, you will agree, is labor wasted; and as dress, I presume, is intended to adorn the person of the wearer, the making a dress which only disfigures her may be considered as a plain case of waste. It would be impertinent in me to go into any details: but it is impossible to walk about the streets now without passing young people who must be under a deep delusion as to the success of their own toilette. Instead of graceful and noble simplicity of form, instead of combinations of color at once rich and delicate, because in accordance with the chromatic laws of nature, one meets with phenomena more and more painful to the eye, and startling to common sense, till one would be hardly more astonished, and certainly hardly more shocked, if in a year or two one should pass some one going about like a Chinese lady, with pinched feet, or like a savage of the Amazons, with a wooden bung through her lower lip. It is easy to complain of these monstrosities: but impossible to cure them, it seems to me, without an education of the taste, an education in those laws of nature which produce beauty in form and beauty in color. For that cause of these failures lies in want of education is patent. They are most common in—I had almost said they are confined to—those classes of well-to-do persons who are the least educated; who have no standard of taste of their own; and who do not acquire any from cultivated friends and relations: who, in consequence, dress themselves blindly according to what they conceive to be Paris fashions, conveyed at third-hand through an equally uneducated dressmaker; in innocent ignorance of the fact—for fact I believe it to be—that Paris fashions are invented now not in the least for the sake of beauty, but for the sake of producing, through variety, increased expenditure, and thereby increased employment; according to the strange system which now prevails in France of compelling, if not prosperity, at least the signs of it; and like schoolboys before a holiday, nailing up the head of the weather glass to insure fine weather.

Let the ladies educate themselves in those laws of beauty which are as eternal as any other of nature’s laws; which may be seen fulfilled, as Mr. Ruskin tells us, so eloquently in every flower and every leaf, in sweeping down and rippling wave: and they will be able to invent graceful and economical dresses for themselves, without importing tawdry and expensive ugliness from France.

Let me now go a step further, and ask you to consider this.—There are now a vast number, and an increasing number, of young women who, from various circumstances which we all know, must in after life be either the mistresses of their own fortunes, or the earners of their own bread. And to do that wisely and well, they must be more or less women of business; and to be women of business, they must know something of the meaning of the words capital, profit, price, value, labor, wages, and of the relations between those two last. In a word, they must know a little political economy. Nay, I sometimes think that the mistress of every household might find, not only thrift of money, but thrift of brain; freedom from mistakes, anxieties, worries of many kinds, all of which eat out the health as well as the heart, by a little sound knowledge of the principles of political economy.

When we consider that every mistress of a household is continually buying, if not selling; that she is continually hiring and employing labor in the form of servants; and very often, into the bargain, keeping her husband’s accounts: I cannot but think that her hard-worked brain might be clearer, and her hard-tried desire to do her duty by every subject in her little kingdom, might be more easily satisfied, had she read something of what Mr. John Stuart Mill has written, especially on the duties of employer and employed. A capitalist, a commercialist, an employer of labor, and an accountant—every mistress of a household is all these, whether she likes it or not; and it would be surely well for her, in so very complicated a state of society as this, not to trust merely to that mother-wit, that intuitive sagacity and innate power of ruling her fellow-creatures, which carries women so nobly through their work in simpler and less civilized societies.

And here I stop to answer those who may say—as I have heard it said—that a woman’s intellect is not fit for business; that when a woman takes to business, she is apt to do it ill, and unpleasantly likewise: to be more suspicious, more irritable, more grasping, more unreasonable, than regular men of business would be: that—as I have heard it put—“a woman does not fight fair.” The answer is simple. That a woman’s intellect is eminently fitted for business is proved by the enormous amount of business she gets through without any special training for it: but those faults in a woman of which some men complain are simply the results of her not having had a special training. She does not know the laws of business. She does not know the rules of the game she is playing; and therefore she is playing it in the dark, in fear and suspicion, apt to judge of questions on personal grounds, often offending those with whom she has to do, and oftener still making herself miserable over matters of law or of business, on which a little sound knowledge would set her head and her heart at rest.

When I have seen widows, having the care of children, of a great household, of great estate, of a great business, struggling heroically, and yet often mistakenly; blamed severely for selfishness and ambition, while they were really sacrificing themselves with the divine instinct of a mother for their children’s interest: I have stood by with mingled admiration and pity, and said to myself—“How nobly she is doing the work without teaching! How much more nobly would she have done it had she been taught! She is now doing the work at the most enormous waste of energy and of virtue: had she had knowledge, thrift would have followed it; she would have done more work with far less trouble. She will probably kill herself if she goes on: sound knowledge would have saved her health, saved her heart, saved her friends, and helped the very loved ones for whom she labors, not always with success.”

A little political economy, therefore, will at least do no harm to a woman; especially if she have to take care of herself in after life; neither, I think, will she be much harmed by some sound knowledge of another subject,—“Natural philosophy, in its various branches, such as the chemistry of common life, light, heat, electricity, etc., etc.”

A little knowledge of the laws of light, for instance, would teach many women that by shutting themselves up day after day, week after week, in darkened rooms, they are as certainly committing a waste of health, destroying their vital energy, and diseasing their brains, as if they were taking so much poison the whole time.

For let me ask you, ladies, with all courtesy, but with all earnestness—Are you aware of certain facts, of which every excellent medical man is too well aware? Are you aware that more human beings are killed every year by unnecessary and preventable diseases than were killed at Waterloo or at Sadowa? Are you aware that the great majority of those victims are children? Are you aware that the diseases which carry them off are for the most part such as ought to be specially under the control of the women who love them, pet them, educate them, and would in many cases, if need be, lay down their lives for them? Are you aware, again, of the vast amount of disease which, so both wise mothers and wise doctors assure me, is engendered in the sleeping-room from simple ignorance of the laws of ventilation, and in the school-room likewise, from simple ignorance of the laws of physiology? from an ignorance of which I shall mention no other case here save one—that too often from ignorance of signs of approaching disease, a child is punished for what is called idleness, listlessness, wilfulness, sulkiness; and punished, too, in the unwisest way—by an increase of tasks and confinement to the house, thus overtasking still more a brain already overtasked, and depressing still more, by robbing it of oxygen and of exercise, a system already depressed? Are you aware, I ask again, of all this? I speak earnestly upon this point, because I speak with experience. As a single instance: a medical man, a friend of mine, passing by his own school-room, heard one of his own little girls screaming and crying, and went in. The governess, an excellent woman, but wholly ignorant of the laws of physiology, complained that the child of late had become obstinate and would not learn; and that therefore she must punish her by keeping her indoors over the unlearned lessons. The father, who knew that the child was usually very good, looked at her carefully for a little while; sent her out of the schoolroom; and then said, “That child must not open a book for a month.” “If I had not acted so,” he said to me, “I should have had that child dead of brain disease within a year.”

Now, in the face of such facts as these, is it too much to ask of mothers, sisters, aunts, nurses, governesses—all who may be occupied in the care of children, especially of girls—that they should study thrift of human health and human life, by studying somewhat the laws of life and health? There are books—I may say a whole literature of books—written by scientific doctors on these matters, which are in my mind far more important to the schoolroom than half the trashy accomplishments, so-called, which are expected to be known by governesses. But are they bought? Are they even to be bought, from most country booksellers? Ah, for a little knowledge of the laws to the neglect of which is owing so much fearful disease, which if it does not produce immediate death, too often leaves the constitution impaired for years to come. Ah the waste of health and strength in the young; the waste, too, of anxiety and misery in those who love and tend them. How much of it might be saved by a little rational education in those laws of nature which are the will of God about the welfare of our bodies, and which, therefore, we are as much bound to know and to obey as we are bound to know and obey the spiritual laws whereon depends the welfare of our souls.

Pardon me, ladies, if I have given a moment’s pain to any one here: but I appeal to every medical man in the room whether I have not spoken the truth; and having such an opportunity as this, I felt that I must speak for the sake of children, and of women likewise, or else for ever hereafter hold my peace.

Let me pass on from this painful subject—for painful it has been to me for many years—to a question of intellectual thrift—by which I mean just now thrift of words; thrift of truth; restraint of the tongue; accuracy and modesty in statement.

Mothers complain to me that girls are apt to be—not intentionally untruthful—but exaggerative, prejudiced, incorrect, in repeating a conversation or describing an event; and that from this fault arise, as is to be expected, misunderstandings, quarrels, rumors, slanders, scandals, and what not.

Now, for this waste of words there is but one cure; and if I be told that it is a natural fault of women; that they cannot take the calm judicial view of matters which men boast, and often boast most wrongly, that they can take; that under the influence of hope, fear, delicate antipathy, honest moral indignation, they will let their eyes and ears be governed by their feelings; and see and hear only what they wish to see and hear: I answer, that it is not for me as a man to start such a theory; but that if it be true, it is an additional argument for some education which will correct this supposed natural defect. And I say deliberately that there is but one sort of education which will correct it, one which will teach young women to observe facts accurately, judge them calmly and describe them carefully, without adding or distorting: and that is, some training in natural science.

I beg you not to be startled: but if you are, then test the truth of my theory by playing to-night at the game called “Russian Scandal;” in which a story, repeated in secret by one player to the other, comes out at the end of the game, owing to the inaccurate and—forgive me if I say it—uneducated brains through which it has passed, utterly unlike its original; not only ludicrously maimed and distorted, but often with the most fantastic addition of events, details, names, dates, places, which each player will aver he received from the player before him. I am afraid that too much of the average gossip of every city, town and village is little more than a game of “Russian Scandal;” with this difference, that while one is but a game, the other is but too mischievous earnest.

But now, if among your party there shall be an average lawyer, medical man, or man of science, you will find that he, and perhaps he alone, will be able to retail accurately the story which has been told him. And why? Simply because his mind has been trained to deal with facts; to ascertain exactly what he does see or hear, and to imprint its leading features strongly and clearly on his memory.

I could say much on this point: allow me at least to say this: I verily believe that any young lady who would employ some of her leisure time in collecting wild flowers, carefully examining them, verifying them, and arranging them; or who would in her summer trip to the sea-coast do the same by the common objects of the shore, instead of wasting her holiday, as one sees hundreds doing, in lounging on benches on the esplanade, reading worthless novels, and criticising dresses—that such a young lady, I say, would not only open her own mind to a world of wonder, beauty, and wisdom, which, if it did not make her a more reverent and pious soul, she can not be the woman which I take her for granted she is; but would save herself from the habit—I had almost said the necessity—of gossip; because she would have things to think of and not merely persons; facts instead of fancies; while she would acquire something of accuracy, of patience, of methodical observation and judgment, which would stand her in good stead in the events of daily life and increase her power of bridling her tongue and her imagination. “God is in heaven, and thou upon earth; therefore let thy words be few;” is the lesson which those are learning all day long who study the works of God with reverent accuracy, lest by misrepresenting them they should be tempted to say that God has done that which He has not; and in that wholesome discipline I long that women as well as men should share.

And now I come to a thrift of the highest kind, as contrasted with a waste the most deplorable and ruinous of all; thrift of those faculties which connect us with the unseen and spiritual world; with humanity, with Christ, with God; thrift of the immortal spirit. I am not going now to give you a sermon on duty. You hear such, I doubt not, in church every Sunday, far better than I can preach to you. I am going to speak rather of thrift of the heart, thrift of the emotions. How they are wasted in these days in reading what are called sensation novels, all know but too well; how good literature—all that the best hearts and intellects among our forefathers have bequeathed to us—is neglected for light fiction, the reading of which is, as a lady well said, “the worst form of intemperance—dram-drinking and opium-eating, intellectual and moral.”

I know that the young will delight—they have delighted in all ages, and will to the end of time—in fictions which deal with that “oldest tale which is forever new.” Novels will be read: but that is all the more reason why women should be trained, by the perusal of a higher, broader, deeper literature, to distinguish the good novel from the bad, the moral from the immoral, the noble from the base, the true work of art from the sham which hides its shallowness and vulgarity under a tangled plot and melodramatic situations. She should learn—and that she can only learn by cultivation—to discern with joy, and drink in with reverence, the good, the beautiful, and the true; and to turn with the fine scorn of a pure and strong womanhood from the bad, the ugly, and the false.

And if any parent should be inclined to reply—“Why lay so much stress upon educating a girl in good literature? Is it not far more important to make our daughters read religious books?” I answer—of course it is. I take for granted that that is done in a Christian land. But I beg you to recollect that there are books and books; and that in these days of a free press it is impossible, in the long run, to prevent girls reading books of very different shades of opinion, and very different religious worth. It may be, therefore, of the very highest importance to a girl to have her intellect, her taste, her emotions, her moral sense, in a word, her whole womanhood, so cultivated and regulated that she shall herself be able to discern the true from the false, the orthodox from the unorthodox, the truly devout from the merely sentimental, the gospel from its counterfeits.

I should have thought that there never had been since the Reformation, a crisis at which young women required more careful cultivation on these matters; if at least they are to be saved from making themselves and their families miserable; and from ending—as I have known too many end—with broken hearts, broken brains, broken health, and an early grave.

Take warning by what you see abroad. In every country where the women are uneducated, unoccupied; where their only literature is French novels or translations of them—in every one of those countries the women, even to the highest, are the slaves of superstition, and the puppets of priests. In proportion as, in certain other countries—notably, I will say, in Scotland—the women are highly educated, family life and family secrets are sacred, and the woman owns allegiance and devotion to no confessor or director, but to her own husband or to her own family.

I say plainly, that if any parents wish their daughters to succumb at last to some quackery or superstition, whether calling itself scientific, or calling itself religious—and there are too many of both just now—they can not more certainly effect their purpose than by allowing her to grow up ignorant, frivolous, luxurious, vain; with her emotions excited, but not satisfied, by the reading of foolish and even immoral novels.

In such a case the more delicate and graceful the organization, the more noble and earnest the nature, which has been neglected, the more certain it is—I know too well what I am saying—to go astray.

The time of depression, disappointment, vacuity, all but despair, must come. The immortal spirit, finding no healthy satisfaction for its highest aspirations, is but too likely to betake itself to an unhealthy and exciting superstition. Ashamed of its own long self-indulgence, it is but too likely to flee from itself into a morbid asceticism. Not having been taught its God-given and natural duties in the world, it is but too likely to betake itself, from the mere craving for action, to self-invented and unnatural duties out of the world. Ignorant of true science, yet craving to understand the wonders of nature and of spirit, it is but too likely to betake itself to non-science—nonsense as it is usually called—whether of spirit-rapping and mesmerism, or miraculous relics and winking pictures. Longing for guidance and teaching, and never having been taught to guide and teach itself, it is but too likely to deliver itself up in self-despair to the guidance and teaching of those who, whether they be quacks or fanatics, look on uneducated women as their natural prey.

One word more, and I have done. Let me ask women to educate themselves, not for their own sakes merely, but for the sake of others. For whether they will or not, they must educate others. I do not speak merely of those who may be engaged in the work of direct teaching; that they ought to be well taught themselves, who can doubt? I speak of those—and in so doing I speak of every woman, young and old—who exercises as wife, as mother, as aunt, as sister, or as friend, an influence, indirect it may be, and unconscious, but still potent and practical, on the minds and characters of those about them, especially of men. How potent and practical that influence is, those know best who know most of the world and most of human nature. There are those who consider—and I agree with them—that the education of boys under twelve years ought to be entrusted as much as possible to women. Let me ask—of what period of youth and manhood does not the same hold true? I pity the ignorance and conceit of the man who fancies that he has nothing left to learn from cultivated women.

Surely that is woman’s calling—to teach man: and to teach him what? To teach him, after all, that his calling is the same as hers, if he will but see the things which belong to his peace. To temper his fiercer, coarser, more self-assertive nature, by the contact of her gentleness, purity, self-sacrifice. To make him see that not by blare of trumpets, not by noise, wrath, greed, ambition, intrigue, puffery, is good and lasting work to be done on earth: but by wise self-distrust, by silent labor, by lofty self-control, by that charity which hopeth all things, believeth all things, endureth all things; by such an example, in short, as women now in tens of thousands set to those around them; such as they will show more and more, the more their whole womanhood is educated to employ its powers without waste and without haste in harmonious unity. Let the woman begin in girlhood, if such be her happy lot—to quote the words of a great poet, a great philosopher, and a great Churchman, William Wordsworth—let her begin, I say—

“With all things round about her drawn

From May-time and the cheerful dawn;

A dancing shape, an image gay,

To haunt, to startle, and waylay.”

Let her develop onwards—

“A spirit, yet a woman too,

With household motions light and free,

And steps of virgin liberty.

A countenance in which shall meet

Sweet records, promises as sweet;

A creature not too bright and good

For human nature’s daily food;

For transient sorrows, simple wiles,

Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.”

But let her highest and her final development be that which not nature, but self-education alone can bring—that which makes her once and forever—

“A being breathing thoughtful breath;

A traveler betwixt life and death.

With reason firm with temperate will,

Endurance, foresight, strength and skill.

A perfect woman, nobly planned,

To warn, to comfort and command.

And yet a spirit still and bright

With something of an angel light.”

[C. L. S. C. WORK.]

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

The Sunday Readings of the January and February numbers constitute the “required” reading on “Bible and Religious History and Literature.” If now and then you consider the selections “a little too long,” read them carefully for your profit.

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On the Sabbaths of January and February we read outlines of Bible History principally from the abridgement by Dr. Collier. It will be well (although it is not required) also to read and study the outline lessons in the History of the Bible and in Bible History, as given in Chautauqua Text-Book No. 36, “Assembly Bible Outlines,” pages 7-37. Price of Chautauqua Text-Book No. 36, only ten cents.

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The people who most need the ministry of the C. L. S. C. are not likely to take it up at first, and therefore those who appreciate its advantages should seek out persons likely to be profited by it. Think over your list of acquaintances, rich and poor, people of wealth and people engrossed with business or domestic care. Go with personal explanations and appeals and induce them to join the Circle, or to take up some part of its work, the reading of one book, or the reading of a special course, like the Bryant or the Shakspere course.

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I want to call your attention to a valuable book for every student’s table—“Roget’s Thesaurus.” It enables one to find a whole family of words by knowing one of them. The classification is well nigh perfect. Phrases, as well as words, are included in the list. For example, look into the index for the word “circle.” Your attention is called at once to paragraph 181, which gives synonymous words of circle, as defining a “region:” sphere, ground, soil, area, realm, hemisphere, quarter, district, beat, orb, circuit, circle; pale; compartment, department; domain, tract, territory, country, canton, county, shire, province, arrondissement, parish, township, commune, ward, wapentake, hundred, riding; principality, duchy, kingdom, etc. Or we turn to the word circle, as “form,” in paragraph 247, where we have: circle, circlet, ring, areola, hoop, roundlet, annulus, annulet, bracelet, armlet; ringlet; eye, loop, wheel; cycle, orb, orbit, rundle, zone, belt, cordon, band; sash, girdle, cestus, cincture, baldric, fillet, fascia, wreath, garland; crown, corona, coronet, chaplet, snood, necklace, collar; noose, lasso. Or take the word circle as a “party,” paragraph 712, where we find: party, side, faction, denomination, communion, set, crew, band, horde, posse, phalanx; family, clan, etc., etc.; community, body, fellowship, sodality, solidarity; confraternity; brotherhood, sisterhood, etc., etc., and so on through one thousand paragraphs, filling 429 pages, and then followed by a four-columned index on each page for 271 more pages. The book is indeed a treasury of the English language. Price, sent to members of the C. L. S. C., $1.60.

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The Cincinnati local circle has great enterprise. It announces a third annual course of free lectures for the coming winter. Our correspondent, Miss Eleanor C. O’Connell, writes: “We are now planning for the organization of a branch ‘Society of the Hall in the Grove,’ for, besides having an alumnal meeting, it is our desire that next year, and each succeeding one, the older graduates shall give in October a reception to the last graduating class, and thus, by welcoming them into this fraternity, help keep up their interest in the Circle. I hope that when you come we will have a good report to make concerning ’82 welcoming those of this year.”

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Have you put our “university property” in order? Have you a cozy corner in your house belonging to the C. L. S. C.? Is the “dormitory” well ventilated? Is the food in the “refectory” healthful? Are the “hours of reading” regularly observed?

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Such words as these are refreshing: “Though only a two-year-old Chautauquan, I feel that these two years have been richer and more valuable to me than twice their number before. They have indeed changed the whole tenor of my life. Next year I expect to attend Michigan University as a result of the work of the C. L. S. C. I feel that whatever may be the degree of usefulness which I hope to reach, it will be owing to the inspiration received from my present course of reading.”

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While members of the C. L. S. C. should read the whole series of books prescribed, each member should select one book to which he is to give especial attention. The others are books for outlook; this is a book for mental discipline. He must master it, drill himself on it, study it critically, doing with it what, if he had the time, he would do with every book of the course.

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As far as practicable, follow the prescribed order of the reading, taking up each month the work prescribed for that month. There is no law of the Medes and Persians about it, but the work will be very much more satisfactorily done where this rule is observed. It is always easier to make reports, and fill out the memoranda, etc., when the work is performed in the prescribed order.

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I suggest to all students the value of much conversation and council in the departments of study. Is there not some teacher or other specialist in your community who would be glad occasionally to give you helpful hints in history, or other branch of study? Is there not, for example, some one who takes a special interest in geology, and who, during the months devoted to this study, would be glad to guide you to a more practical knowledge than you can get from mere books? Learn to utilize the talent of your community. Ask questions. Do not be ashamed to betray ignorance. State your opinions. What if you make a mistake? You will not be likely to make it a second time. The introduction into your life of casual conversations on useful subjects will give both strength and dignity to your life. Watch therefore the people of your community; pick out those who know and can help. Get help out of them. They will delight to serve you, and the service will do both them and you great good.

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It matters little whether a man be mathematically, or philologically, or artistically cultivated, so that he be cultivated.—Goethe.

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Members of the C. L. S. C., in addressing the Plainfield office, are requested to give complete addresses, town, county, state, and also the class to which they belong. This will prevent the necessity of referring to the records before the letters can be answered. Secretaries of local circles in cities, in sending to the office, should always give the street address of each member to whom a fee is to be credited.

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The filling up of the blank pages in Dr. Wilkinson’s Preparatory Greek Course in English, while earnestly recommended, is not required.

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By a mistake, the Little Classical Dictionary, published by J. B. Putnam’s Sons, New York City, was announced at thirty cents, by mail. The price is forty cents. Let all students take note of this.

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Our friend, Miss Myrtie C. Hudson, from California, a graduate of the Class of 1882, has entered Michigan University, at Ann Arbor. She reports meetings of the students’ association. She says: “On Sunday morning the hall was filled for the opening prayer-meeting, and there was manifested a working Christian spirit which surprised and delighted me. I believe one can grow in grace in such a school. The crucial test of character will there be developed. The five o’clock quiet hour on Sabbath afternoon is growing very dear to me. That beautiful suggestion is one of the many things for which I can never thank you enough. If the hours help all the members as they do me, they are no doubt a power in the Circle. I am already looking forward to that time as the best in all the week. A portion of the time I spend in preparing Bible readings on themes suggested at Chautauqua, beginning with ‘God in Nature,’ with Romans i: 19, 20 for the key. I shall always look lovingly back to the weeks I spent at Chautauqua. They were wonderful weeks, and I lived more in them than in as many years before.”

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There is strong temptation to take substitutes for the regular books. You have a great cyclopædia, and prefer to read articles on the appointed subject rather than to take up the book required. Or, you have some other history, or other scientific treatise. In order to economize, I have allowed substitutes. Comparatively few of our students have used them. It is much more pleasant for all members of the C. L. S. C. to travel one way. The sympathy of the members is increased by such unity. The reading of Green’s “Short History of the English People,” and Merrivale’s “Rome,” bound together by very strong cords the members of the Circle. While there may be other valuable books, we think that the “required” books are the best, and we desire our members as far as practicable to use them.

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Edward A. Spring, sculptor, who has charge of the clay-modeling department, at Chautauqua, lingered for several weeks after the close of the Assembly the past season. He studied the old trees in St. Paul’s Grove, measuring them carefully, and also numbered them. He finds twelve maples, five beeches, one butternut, and one hemlock. “The largest maple, No. 6,” he says, “is nearly eight feet in circumference. It stands in front of the Hall. A butternut, No. 8, is a grand old tree, and full of nuts this year; but it leans very much toward the hemlock, and can hardly last long without some skillful forestry work. All the trees, except Nos. 2 and 9, are too large to reach around with my arms. No. 13 is one of the finest trees on the whole grounds—a very symmetrical tulip on the west side of Cookman Avenue.” He adds, “I had been all about the Grove many times, but now that I have held each one of these giants of the old forest clasped in my arms, I feel toward each as if I had said farewell to a dear friend. For five Sundays the setting sun has lighted a little band of friends in the Hall of Philosophy—five little gatherings, where a lovely spirit prevailed, and I think all there present will long remember it. Dr. Eaton and Mr. Martin have led the service, which took the form of devotional expression,

‘A song of service, of faith, of praise;’

with frequent allusions to our book-mates of the great Circle at whose center we were met. Several times each one in turn repeated a verse of Scripture; and, day before yesterday, upon closing, we joined hands and closed the circle, repeating in concert the three mottoes of the C. L. S. C. Now, I started out to tell you of these meetings with an express purpose, namely, to urge the desirableness of securing a sunset belt from the Hall of Philosophy, so that no intervening structures shall cut off this glorifying of the maples at the hour of the Round-Table, and other favored and favorite gatherings.”

[C. L. S. C. TESTIMONY.]

It is impossible for those who have low, mean, and groveling ideas, and who have spent their lives in mercenary employments, to produce anything worthy of admiration, or to be a possession for all times. Grand and dignified expressions must be looked for from those whose thoughts are ever employed on glorious and noble objects.—Longinus.

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New England.—I am astonished at the wonderful system and workings of the C. L. S. C. It seems to me that this must be one of the most active agents for good extant, and its origination ought surely to be counted among the most progressive educational forces of the day. It was with some doubts and considerable apathy that I sent my name for enrollment among the students of the Circle, but I am now an enthusiast.

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Massachusetts (Williamstown).—One year ago I began the Chautauqua course in connection with my regular college duties. While for me, a great part of the work was a review, I found that it served to clinch and make fast my previous knowledge of the subjects taken up, and also gave me much information that was new and not to be obtained in my college course. I have just entered on my senior year, and although I am very busy, I shall keep up my C. L. S. C. work, believing that any time I can take to devote to that, will be spent to the best possible advantage. To one who has the advantages of a college education the C. L. S. C. course furnishes a valuable auxiliary and material aid, while to those denied this advantage, it furnishes a means of education surely second to none, save perhaps the few best colleges. My purpose is to graduate and then to pursue some of the extra courses as I have time. With best wishes for the success of the “People’s College,” and of every true Chautauquan, I am yours, respectfully, etc.

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Massachusetts.—I have nearly all of last year’s books to read up, but I am not one bit discouraged. I am behind from various causes; with a large family and many cares, and a great deal of church and temperance work, and foreign mission work to do, and a house full of company all last year, it kept me behind. But this year I shall make up and graduate in ’84, all in good time.

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Maine.—I am a poor farmer’s daughter, and motherless. I have wished very much to go to some good school and graduate, but I am an only daughter and therefore must be my father’s housekeeper, and you cannot tell how glad I was to learn of the C. L. S. C. I shall try to complete the reading and study for this year if possible.

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Vermont.—We are two years behind the class of ’83, but hope to be able to catch up and finish with that class. We are not discouraged, though laboring under difficulties. I shall never cease to be grateful for the C. L. S. C., which is giving pleasure and profit to so many thousands.

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New York.—I have been for years a confirmed invalid, never leaving my room unless carried out, and unable to sit even in a reclining chair, but a short time. During these long, weary years, reading, and listening to reading, has been the one great pleasure left me. Having my attention directed, a few months since, to the list of required readings for the C. L. S. C., the thought presented itself to me that, in place of desultory reading, I might substitute a regular course, as I think there are but few days pass when I do not read at least forty minutes, still I dare not pledge myself to even that length of time regularly, and can only promise to do the best I can.

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Illinois.—For six weeks I have been very sick. Through it all I have continued my reading. Of how much value the past year’s reading has been to me it would be impossible to tell. But there are books in the library that have never been opened by me before, thinking they were too deep or dry until the beautiful “Mosaics,” printed in that valuable paper, “The Chautauquan,” touched the spring of curiosity and sent me searching through them from lid to lid.

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A member writes: Five years ago I walked into an unguarded opening in the sidewalk and fell ten or twelve feet, causing spinal trouble, since which time I have not been able to ride or walk, until within the past year. I walk around my room some, and hope to entirely recover. I suppose I simply should have said, “I am an invalid,” but I don’t like the word, for I do try to make myself useful. I have a little private C. L. S. C. school in my room mornings, and find plenty to occupy my time.

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New York.—A mother, whose daughter (also a member of the class of ’82) died last year, writes: “The diploma is a gem, weighted with meaning in the illustrations; and now I only regret that I was not more interested in the diploma, and had it on regular parchment. My husband was pleased with it, and wished me to have it framed and hung beside my son’s and daughter’s—the one from Harvard, the other from Fort Edward Institute. My son, who is an enthusiastic educator, sent his congratulations, saying: ‘Not many have received a diploma after being fifty-five years of age.’ But what afforded us all increased pleasure was the mistake of one of the initials, my own name being C. W. C., and my daughter’s being C. M. C. The name in the diploma is Mrs. C. M. C., so like the blending of our tastes and life pursuits. My son says: ‘The error of initials has increased the value of the diploma;’ and all of us so consider it. Well, she had commenced on the fourth year, and with quivering lip expressed a hope that she should live to finish the course. To her belongs the merit of inspiring her mother and others in this place, and her influence will continue. How appropriate that she shares in the diploma that I doubly value for her sake!”

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Miss Norton, secretary of the Pacific Coast Branch of the C. L. S. C., writes: “The outlook for the coming year seems very hopeful thus far, in our office work, especially in the letters from the outlying States and Territories. The seed sown last year seems to be bearing good fruit.”

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New Mexico.—From Las Vegas, New Mexico, there comes this message: I am a member of the C. L. S. C.; marched with the circle at Rome City last summer; was at the banquet and camp-fire, and heard Dr. Vincent lecture before the circle. I would like to organize a circle in New Mexico; send me papers and all the help you can for the work.

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Indian Territory.—From the Wa-la-ka Creek nation, Indian Territory, a writer says: “We have a family of one hundred and twenty Indian youth and teachers. Can we become members of the C. L. S. C.?” The answer is, Yes. Thus the work is spreading into every State and Territory, and into many foreign nations.

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California.—With my three little children and quite an extensive poultry business to look after, I have very few idle moments. Hence my failure to keep up with my class was unavoidable. I have enjoyed the course of reading more than I can express, though I am not at all satisfied with my year’s work. It troubles me sometimes to remember what I have read. I am very anxious to take up the Greek course. I have been trying to get some of my neighbors interested in the C. L. S. C., but do not succeed, so I am plodding on alone. I think you are doing a noble work, and the end is not yet. I will close in the language of Tiny Tim, “God bless us every one.”

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West Virginia.—How much we have enjoyed the course of reading! We really did not study: had time only to go over once. One would read aloud, while the other sewed; and we would not take anything for what we learned. Mother would often ask, “Well, how much do you remember of all you read?” I often thought it was like the Centennial—we were there a week. Of course we can’t remember half we saw, and yet we have a pretty good idea of what was there, and what we saw; enough to make it a pleasure and a profit to think of. And so about the books we read. Perhaps we couldn’t answer one question in ten you’d ask us in Roman history, and yet we have a distinct idea of the way the people lived, of the characters of Julius Cæsar, Sulla, Nero, etc. We have a beautiful cat named Pericles, who was a kitten when we were reading history of Greece; and we had one named Antonius when reading Roman history, but he wasn’t nice, and we gave him away.

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Illinois.—An Illinois miss writes: I am running all to music, and found some time ago that my thoughts were altogether too narrow for the music, and if I can branch out more, get new thoughts, and strange ones, I can stand up straighter in other ways. This is a great, strong, rough world, and it takes a strong heart and lots of courage. I am only a girl.

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Maryland.—One of the most charming domestic scenes is reported to us from the “Bird’s Nest,” in Maryland, where there are several members of the Circle. A good woman, who is the light of the house, writes: There have been days when I could not study at all, but the shells that I was able to gather as I stood on the shore, helped me to listen to the waves as they came in from the other side of the great sea of knowledge, from away back before the coming of Christ. And I have learned that there is no god like our God, for he knoweth that we have need of this mind-furnishing. I feel sure that the C. L. S. C. has come to be one of the corner-stones in our home. Jesus Christ, I hope, is the chief corner-stone. Does not our Bible tell us that “every wise woman buildeth her house?” Does she wish to know how? “Through wisdom is a house builded, and by understanding is it established, and by knowledge shall the chambers be filled with all precious and pleasant riches.” I pray God that every mother may belong to the C. L. S. C. When I began my studies in October last, I soon felt I wanted my husband to study with me. Thus far in our married life we had always gone hand in hand together. I felt almost as if we were being separated. I did not urge the matter, because I saw that he felt that for me it would be impracticable. The more I studied, the more I felt it was right for me to keep on; that I could help them all in the home better by so doing. Last evening, after reading the Chautauqua Herald (we have taken it all through the course this summer), my husband laid down the paper and said: “My dear, I am going to join this Circle; and Nellie (turning to our daughter), you must join it, too, and we will all help each other in the home.” All my heart went out to God in thankfulness. * * * Last Sabbath was my birthday, and my two nieces and daughter told me on Saturday evening that I must not go into the dining-room Sabbath morning until the bell rang for breakfast. Accordingly, when the bell sounded, my husband escorted me to the dining-room. The table was beautiful with its linen, its basket of pears, peaches, and grapes in the center, and the lovely saucer bouquet at my plate. Just beside my chair was a flower stand that father had made for me, and each shelf was laden with presents for me from the dear ones, not excepting my honored, faithful, colored servant. In the bay-window were the words, “Happy Birthday,” in phantom letters. When we were seated at the table, my husband asked a blessing. Each of us then recited a verse of Scripture, as is our usual custom. Just then my father handed my husband a paper, which he opened and read. It was a sweet little poem which he had written, closing with the words:

“In sooth no works of sophistry

Their homage will dispute;

We greet her now most cordially,

With the G. L. S. C. salute.”

I think I never had anything move me so. I just bowed any head and thanked my Heavenly Father.

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Ohio.—Since I began to study in the C. L. S. C., I have spent a summer in England and Scotland. Thanks to you and Green, I was thoroughly steeped in English history and literature, which made every place alive with interest. At Oxford did we not wander along the lovely Isis where Addison loved to walk, to ponder, and study? and did we not revel in a mild way under the solemn shade of the venerable trees, and gaze with intense interest at the manuscripts and books of the Bodleian Library? and did we not hear Gray’s Elegy in that very country churchyard? Then, too, we made a pilgrimage to Canterbury,

“The holy blisful martir for to seeke.”

There were six of us, and we were all of one mind. We crossed the border and made a short tour through Scotland, which included a visit to unfrequented Ayr,

“Auld Ayr, whom ne’er a town surpasses

For honest men and bonnie lasses;”

and to Kirk Alloway, where poor Tam saw such a bewitching sight. The last weeks of the summer were spent in the English lake district, and long shall I remember the wonderful pictures seen from our windows at Keswick: mountains blue and hazy, and again with wreaths of vapor creeping up the sides and capping the summits, or perhaps clouds hanging in pillowy masses over them; and there in the sunlight was the Greta, rippling waves and leaping just as it enchanted Southey, and if I had not known about him, it would have been nothing to me. If there is a paradise upon earth, it must be at Grasmere and Rydyl, sacred with the memory of Wordsworth. There is nothing to disturb the serene, charming place. We sat by the clear, noisy Rothay, and wandered through Grasmere churchyard, where Wordsworth is buried. Dorothy lies beside him. The clergyman intoned the evening service in the church as if it were a tedious affair, and we were glad to be through with it. Maybe he did not think it worth while to be slow and solemn, as there were only five worshippers. May it be your good fortune some day to see the old creature known as guide to the principal fall of Rydyl. As she painfully hobbled along on her cane, she grew quite garrulous over her recollections of the past. H. asked her whether she ever read his poems. “Seeing him and knowing him,” said she, “is a better memory than reading his poetry.” To the C. L. S. C. is due much of the pleasure of the summer. Through the C. L. S. C. I received the first impulse to study systematically at home; and it is my desire to have my gratitude take a substantial form. I remember the scholarships you referred to that Commencement Day. Inclosed you will find ten dollars, which is my contribution for such a scholarship. It is my way to make acknowledgment of what the C. L. S. C has done for me.

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Ohio.—The Madison Chautauqua Circle lost a valued member, by the death of Mary E. Galpin, on October 8, 1882. In the summer of 1878 she visited Lake Chautauqua. Having intellectual tastes, she soon became interested in the founding of the “People’s College.” On her return home, in her quiet and unobtrusive way, she endeavored to enlarge the Chautauqua Circle by awakening an interest among her young friends. In the summer of 1880 she visited Chautauqua, and enjoyed the Round-Table talks within the shade of the “Hall in the Grove,” and while watching the first C. L. S. C. camp-fire, Mary’s zeal and enthusiasm seemed to kindle anew. Those who have been closely associated with her know of her unabated interest, and somewhat of the disappointment she experienced in not being able to realize her long-cherished hope of being at Chautauqua on that memorable Commencement Day. In the providence of God she was prevented from passing under the triumphal arches at Chautauqua, but she was greatly gratified when she received her diploma, and expressed her determination to secure the white seal. “But it is not for man to direct his steps.” A few weeks after, wearing the white rose of a pure life unfolded by all-sufficient grace, and upheld by filial devotion, without a murmur, with a smile on her face, she passed through the golden gate into the heavenly city.

[LOCAL CIRCLES.]

[We request the president or secretary of every local circle to send us reports of their work, of lectures, concerts, entertainments, etc. Editor of The Chautauquan, Meadville, Pa.]

There are a thousand nameless ties,

Which only such as feel them know;

Of kindred thoughts, deep sympathies,

And untold fancy spells, which throw

O’er ardent minds and faithful hearts

A chain whose charmed links so blend,

That the light circlet but imparts

Its force in these fond words, My friend.

—Mrs. Dinnies.

The friendships formed through the agency of the C. L. S. C. ripen with age, and in ten thousand instances the work creates strong bonds of union between fellow-students. The local circle is a favorite place for members of the C. L. S. C. who are searching for knowledge and truth. Love for the pursuit of knowledge will inspire its possessor to seek out kindred spirits, to band themselves together, and organize for work. We furnish our readers, in the following reports, with a glimpse into a number of local circles. Here we find variety in the methods for conducting the work, and unity in the aim of all C. L. S. C. students. A carefully prepared paper from the secretary of every local circle concerning your work, and the method of doing it, is solicited by us for the help it may be to other circles. Use this department of The Chautauquan (it is your magazine) for an interchange of plans and opinions concerning your work in your local organizations. [Editor The Chautauquan.]

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Berlin, Pennsylvania, is located in a beautiful valley, twenty-five miles north of Cumberland, and only a few miles from the top of the Alleghenies. The town is old, not very enterprising, but favored with a moral and intelligent population. We organized our circle in the latter part of October and commenced our reading November 1st. Our membership numbers twenty-two. We have elected a librarian, hoping soon to need one. We do not appoint a leader for the circle, but a conductor for each department of work—one for geology, another for Greek history, etc. Having a number of professional men in our circle, such as doctors, ministers and teachers, we propose a division of labor, and thus we shall do more thorough work. We will have one regular meeting each month, and as many special meetings as we shall find profitable. Memorial days will come under the head of special meetings. The C. L. S. C. idea is almost a stranger to the people of this town, but we hope soon to make for it many acquaintances and friends.

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New Albany, Indiana.—Our meetings are very informal. While assembling a running conversation is kept up on the work done, and to be done. We have no special formality about opening or closing, but pass easily from the general conversation to the special work of the evening. So far this has consisted chiefly of a discussion of geology, aided by the diagrams. Considerable interest has been awakened on this subject. Usually we have had one or more essays at each meeting, but have had none yet this year. The questions for further study will hereafter form a part of the evening’s work. We meet every two weeks on Monday night, from house to house. There are two circles here, one of ladies, who meet on Friday afternoon, and ours, of both sexes. We have also a general organization. A number of the other circle always meet with us. The Pioneer Circle is composed almost entirely of teachers in the public schools, and they must catch time when they can, but they are enthusiastic workers.

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Johnstown, N. Y.—Our method of conducting C. L. S. C. work is this: At each meeting, after the program of the previous meeting has been carried out, the leader requests one or two members to prepare essays on a certain part of the work, one or two members to bring a stated number of questions on a certain subject, another member to read a short article from The Chautauquan. Very often the leader asks for the opinion of various members of a character or an article met with in the reading. At our last meeting the circle authorized the secretary to appoint at each meeting—which occurs each alternate week—a critic, also what might be called an orthoëpist. We cannot inform you as to the benefit to be derived from this feature of our circle, as it is new to us.

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Quincy, Michigan.—Were mine a thousand voices; yea, the voice of every Chautauquan who regards system and order, who enjoys the pleasure and strength there is in feeling they are each day and week going on with a large band of faithful Chautauquans, I would say please go on in the good old way of dividing the lessons of the month into weekly installments. It is a real help to have the week’s work laid out for us in The Chautauquan. It greatly facilitates the labor of the leader of the local circle. Our local circle, which numbered about ten members last year, has started out “boomingly” this year with about twenty, and the prospect is good for still widening the circle. We have weekly meetings. One, a most enthusiastic member, comes five and a-half miles to attend the meetings. Our president is a minister. He and his worthy wife take an active part in the work. We also have the principal and preceptress of our public schools among our active members. After a general history and geology lesson we have essays on the subject of the evening from the older members, that are inspiring to the younger ones.

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The Northfield, Connecticut, local circle is situate in the old “Mountain County,” Litchfield, where rocks are convenient for geological study, and the pure atmosphere favors astronomical observations. It numbers nine members, six of whom are regular members of the C. L. S. C. All are young people, and six are, or have been, school teachers. Inasmuch as it is a new organization, with its method of work tentative and liable to change, or displacement, on further trial, its plan is only given because it may have a suggestion for those who would not adopt it exactly. The circle meets fortnightly, and on Friday evenings, so all the teachers can be present. Topics, from the required reading, are assigned in advance, and by lot. Then each member is responsible for his or her topic, but he is allowed to present it at the next meeting in the form of an essay, lecture, or recitation, or he may come prepared to be questioned upon it by the committee of instruction and the class generally. Thus far the plan works well, stimulating thorough preparation on the part of all, and furnishing all the work the circle can well do in an evening. Any considerable increase of members would of course make some modification of our method necessary, and the reports of other circles in The Chautauquan may reveal something so much better that we may abandon our experimental ways entirely. We send greeting to the whole C. L. S. C.

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Gilroy, California.—We organized in 1879 and ’80 a local circle with about twenty-five members. In the study of history, besides the regular lesson, some of the members were appointed to read selections, and others to write short sketches of principal characters whose names are found in our lessons. The selections were mostly poems from Macaulay’s Lays of Ancient Rome and Tennyson’s King Arthur. In the study of biology, geology, etc., questions were distributed to the class on slips of paper by a committee appointed by the chair at the previous meeting. The questions and answers were read at the next meeting. Sometimes topics or subjects were given; the general divisions of the vegetable kingdom, glacial formation, the orders of Greek and Roman architecture, etc. Last year we were favored by having Prof. Norton, of the State Normal School, for one of our leaders. In the study of art we had the benefit of stereoscopic views exhibited by the aid of a magic lantern, of the ancient ruins and public buildings, and scenes of interest in Egypt, Greece, and Italy. In the study of geology and chemistry, the Professor gave us illustrative diagrams on the blackboard, and chemical experiments illustrating volcanic action, and various other phenomena resulting from scientific investigation. This year we have taken “a new departure.” We do not have a regular leader, as heretofore, but the person occupying the chair appoints a successor for the next meeting, who conducts the recitation, makes up the order of work, and then appoints a successor for the next meeting. Our plan of work is still the same as in former years. Prof. Norton is still with us occasionally; also Miss S. M. Severance, who has been a great help to the circle since its organization, not only as an efficient teacher at the regular meetings, but one to whom we could refer questions of importance, her extensive and varied information enabling her to be, as it were, a living encyclopedia for our benefit.

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Reading, Pennsylvania.—To our own pleasant city has swept the “happy circle” and like its many members, we too, feel blessed that

——“our Heavenly Father granted

Us the boon of being numbered

With the army of Chautauqua.”

Two weeks ago a dozen of us ladies and gentlemen organized ourselves into—

——“a band that owe allegiance to a monarch called the Mind,

Who believe to-day is better than the yesterday behind;

We laugh at party limits, breathe no single word of barter,

But our all absorbing passion is to grow a trifle smarter.”

Through the kindness of Mr. Wm. Price, a spacious room in his residence has been put at our disposal, and herein we hold our meetings every Monday evening, and examine one another on the matters we have read during each preceding week, and the answers form vital topics for discussion of surpassing interest. But we are by no means selfish with our highly prized acquirements, and our circle is greatly honored by the leading Lyceum of this city, the management of which has graciously requested us to take charge of the first half of their program. In response we send some one of our circle in a representative capacity, to each meeting to deliver a lecture upon one of the subjects of the course, and we expect to take up all in due season. Already much interest is awakened, and our circle promises to become famous for its capable and willing workers for Christianity and culture.

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Holliston, Maine.—Our local circle numbers forty members. Our meetings are held monthly, and the program is arranged by a committee of two, and announced a month in advance. Synopses of readings are given, and essays on leading characters and topics. We have talks on subjects of general interest and Round-Table conversations. On memorial days we have readings from the authors whose day we celebrate. We allow considerable time for music, for the singing of class songs, and we expect all qualified to furnish music, to do so by making their own selections. Once a year we give an entertainment of a musical and literary character, inviting friends who are not members. From time to time we have public lectures, arranged on subjects of interest and connected with C. L. S. C. work.

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The Rev. R. H. Howard writes from Saxonville, Massachusetts: Under what was at first deemed extremely unpropitious circumstances we have now what appears to be a flourishing circle in this place. At the outset all signs seemed discouraging; but the energy and pluck of a few young ladies were honored by the awakening of marked and very hopeful interest in the enterprise, and our meetings thus far have been fully attended and enthusiastic. Even the perplexing, though unavoidable, delay in obtaining the text-books has not perceptibly dampened or diminished the ardor excited. Meanwhile, not feeling able to purchase large and expensive maps and charts, one of our members, who wields a facile pencil, sketches, on a large scale, such maps and charts as we require as we proceed. A large map, in connection with a history exercise in a circle meeting, would seem to be indispensable. Certain charts, also, however simple or crude, illustrative of geological formations, and race and language relations, cannot but serve a very important purpose. Let me observe just here, that I learn that the same enthusiasm in C. L. S. C. work that has been developed in this place is obtaining in adjoining communities. Teachers in public schools, I am told, gather, after the labors of the day, in one of the school-rooms, and, for an hour or so, daily, read together. How interesting a spectacle! Yea, in view of this interest in these higher intellectual pursuits, thus awakened among these young people under my own eye, I have been impressed, as never before, as I have thought of the vast popular intellectual ferment produced throughout the country, not to say throughout the world, by this wonderful C. L. S. C. of Dr. Vincent’s. Arising from this very wide-spread, and ever-extending and deepening interest in, and devotion to intellectual and moral pursuits, crowned through his timely instrumentality, what could well have been more timely, aye, providential, in the best sense of the term, than this movement? Who can begin to estimate its results in the years and ages to come? Already the important fact is developed that the life, and doubtless the continued existence, of Chautauqua, Framingham Assembly, and other similar enterprises, are bound up in, and are destined to depend upon the support derived from the C. L. S. C. The mother thus already leans hard upon the young and vigorous daughter.

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At Elkham, Wisconsin, local circle, the president appoints two or more members at each meeting to prepare questions on the lesson for the next week. These members teach that part of the lesson on which they have prepared questions. Some recite with open books, while others are prepared to answer the questions with closed books. The questions and answers published in The Chautauquan are always used as a review. Of course there is a free interchange of opinion and frequent discussions on points of the lesson, which are of peculiar interest.

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Meriden, Connecticut.—The officers of our local circle constitute the Instruction Committee. The president appoints a committee of five, whose duty it is to assist the Instruction Committee. Said committee appoint leaders of reviews, and, in fact, they have charge of all work of the circle, memorial exercises, lectures, entertainments, etc. We have another committee of four, whose work it is to see all strangers at meetings of the circle, and invite them to join; also to welcome new members, and see that they are introduced to other members, especially to the officers and Instruction Committee. We number seventy members, thirty-four regular and thirty-six local members. We regret to say that we lost one member by death, last summer; quite a young man, and, so far as we know, the only one who has taken the White Seal course. We regret his death, as he promised to become a valuable member to our circle. A few have left the circle this year, but new members are continually being added, eight names being proposed at our last meeting. We meet the first and third Monday evenings of each month. Some of our members walk from a mile to a mile and a half to attend the meetings. Our method of work is as follows: We open the meeting with singing and prayer; all business is then transacted. We have about five reviews in an evening. At present the reviews are in Wilkinson’s Preparatory Greek Course, History of Russia, and English and Scandinavian History and Literature. These are prepared in the following manner: One member prepares from three to twelve questions on a subject, gives them to other members to answer at next meeting, and at that time calls for answers, and gives other members opportunity to ask any questions on the subject. Five-minute essays are sometimes read on other important subjects. We take up geology soon, on which subject Prof. Chapin, Ph. D., president of Meriden Scientific Circle, will give a few talks. The circle has just decided to purchase the set of geological diagrams. The committee intend all memorial days shall be celebrated this year. Last June we had a circle picnic, spending the day at a very pleasant place about twelve miles from here. It was a great success. Monday evening, September 18, we had memorial exercises for Garfield Day. On Monday evening, October 2, Rev. J. L. Hurlbut, of Plainfield, delivered a public lecture under the auspices of the circle, his subject being, “How to Spend our Leisure.” Both the lecturer and lecture have been very highly spoken of by all who attended, and we consider it the greatest success of all lectures as yet given. Our circle is growing, and we believe a great amount of good has been and is being done by it.

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The local circles of the C. L. S. C. of Cincinnati, O., have this winter adopted the plan of visiting each other. This new arrangement was commenced on Tuesday evening, Oct. 31,—the Wesley, York street and Grace Church circles visiting the one at Christie Chapel. The lesson for the evening was a review of Grecian History, and was ably conducted by Mr. John A. Johnson, President of the Christie Circle. At the close of the lesson some minutes were passed in social intercourse, and then followed a comparison of the methods pursued in conducting the various circles present. All expressed themselves highly pleased with the meeting and it is the purpose to continue them throughout the year, as this system of visitation serves to make the members better acquainted with each other, which is desirable in a large city like Cincinnati. It also serves to strengthen the bond of fellowship existing among those engaged in the common cause.

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The first of the 3rd series of free lectures, under the auspices of the Chautauqua Circles of Cincinnati and vicinity, was given at Christie Chapel M. E. Church, corner of Court and Wesley avenue, in October. The church was filled with a highly intelligent and attentive audience. Rev. Dr. Blackburn, of Central Presbyterian Church, delivered a very instructive and eloquent lecture of an hour’s length on the subject, “The Origin and Spirit of the Greeks.” The lecturer traced the march of the Greeks from their Aryan fatherland, ranged them in the two main divisions of the Ionians and the Dorians; traced the rise of Doric Sparta and Ionic Athens; sketched their periods of successive overlordship; showed the want of political unity in all the Greek States, and emphasized the fact of a social unity in the Pan-Hellenic sentiment, the Greek language, religion, Amphictyonic council, festivals, literature, philosophy and art. The Greeks could appreciate a good thing wherever it originated. They caused art to stand out in its own beauty and on its own merits. The lecture closed with these words: “Greece had a mission to the human race, a noble work for the world. It was not in the domain of political government, nor of conscience, but in that of intellect. The lasting outcome of her work was culture. She fulfilled her mission. She ran her race among the nations and won the laurel. She fell, and thorns now bind her delicate hands, but the old olive wreath has not faded. The heritage of her culture has passed to the westward Aryans. We read our New Testament and remember her marvelous gift of speech. We run our Christian course and think of the Olympian races. Plato is studied where Paul is believed. The classics are recited where the Gospel is read for its wonderful words of life.”

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Flushing, Michigan.—Our local circle meets every Friday evening. We have roll-call, and each member responds, either with a verse of Scripture or a gem from one of the poets, as decided on at our last meeting. Then singing and prayer. We next take the questions given in The Chautauquan, with additional questions on some of the required reading. We also have select reading or an essay each week. We had ten members last year; we now have eighteen. Our first meeting for this year was on the evening of September 29. The exercises were as follows: Reading of Psalms i:8-23; President’s greeting; essay on “The Excellencies of the C. L. S. C.;” recitation, “Hope Song of C. L. S. C.;” Bryant’s letter on the C. L. S. C.; paper on the “Design and Method in the C. L. S. C.” Then followed the enrollment of members by the secretary, and the appointment of committees by the president.

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Nebraska City, Nebraska.—Two years ago our C. L. S. C. sprang into existence in the form of a triangle, widened into a circle in 1881, and now, in 1882, we have a membership of thirty. Monthly meetings have been held, at which we have had short oral accounts of subjects discussed in Geology, and questions and answers on Greek history. A noticeable feature of our last meeting was a “match” on the pronunciation of words selected from our reading. Were Herodotus or Thucydides present at our meetings, we think he would take pity upon us, and give to his places and men names less jaw-breaking to learn. The correct pronunciation of them seems to us like a “piling of Pelion upon Ossa.” Though our officers are ladies, we have able gentlemen in our circle. Some of the reading is a little “deep” for us, but, by perseverance, we hope to come up to it, “since the mountain can not come to Mahomet.” We all now see its beneficence insomuch that we present a unanimous vote of thanks to the projector of this grand scheme—the People’s College.

[Not Required.]

QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS.

FIFTY QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS ON “PREPARATORY GREEK COURSE IN ENGLISH,” COMPRISING THE LATTER HALF OF THE VOLUME, OR “HOMER.”

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

1. Q. After Xenophon’s Anabasis what is it usual for the preparatory student to take up next in order? A. The Iliad of Homer.

2. Q. What is sometimes taken instead of the Iliad? A. The Odyssey.

3. Q. What is the position of the Iliad of Homer in literature? A. It is the leading poem of the world.

4. Q. From what is the Iliad entitled? A. From the word Ilium, which is the alternative name of Troy.

5. Q. What episode in the siege of Troy is the real subject of the Iliad? A. The wrath of Achilles.

6. Q. What occasioned the siege of Troy? A. The carrying off of Helen, wife of Menelaus, a Grecian king, by Paris, son of Priam, king of Troy.

7. Q. Who engaged in the siege against Troy? A. The confederate kings of all Greece, with Agamemnon as commander-in-chief.

8. Q. What was the occasion of the wrath of Achilles? A. The arbitrary interference of Agamemnon to deprive Achilles of a female captive, Briseïs, and usurp her to himself.

9. Q. What at length incites Achilles to again return to the field? A. The death of Patroclus, his close friend, slain by the Trojans.

10. Q. What is the result as to Achilles? A. He slays Hector, the Trojan champion, and is himself killed by Paris.

11. Q. What forms the subject of the Odyssey? A. The adventures of one of the Greek chieftains, Ulysses, or Odysseus.

12. Q. When and how does the Iliad itself close? A. Before the fall of Troy, and with the death and funeral rites of Hector.

13. Q. What are some of the best known translations of the Iliad? A. Chapman’s, Pope’s, Cowper’s, Derby’s and Bryant’s.

14. Q. Of what are some of the most noted passages in the first book of the Iliad descriptive? A. The descent of Apollo, the wrangle between Achilles and Agamemnon, the promise of Jupiter to Thetis, and the feast of the gods.

15. Q. What does the second book of the Iliad recount? A. How Jupiter sends a deceiving dream to Agamemnon to induce that chieftain to make a vain assault on the Trojans.

16. Q. With what does the book close? A. With a catalogue of the Greek forces assembled.

17. Q. To us who read in the light of present views what is a feature of the Iliad fatal to any genuine interest in the story? A. The introduction of supernatural agencies into the action of the poem.

18. Q. What is one of the prominent scenes introduced in the third book of the Iliad? A. A duel between Paris, the thief, and Menelaus, the husband of Helen.

19. Q. What takes place at the crisis of the duel? A. Venus steps in and carries Paris off to his bed-chamber in the palace of Priam.

20. Q. In the fourth book what is described by a simile, one of the most nobly conceived and nobly expressed of all that occur in the Iliad? A. The advance of the Achaians to battle.

21. Q. What noted hero is introduced in the fifth book of the Iliad? A. Æneas, the Trojan hero of Virgil’s poem, the Æneid.

22. Q. Of what is one of the most famous passages in the sixth book of the Iliad descriptive? A. The parting of Hector and Andromache, his wife, bringing with her their little child.

23. Q. Who among the Greeks takes the honors of the seventh book of the Iliad? A. Ajax.

24. Q. What constitutes a prominent feature in the eighth book of the Iliad? A. Another account of the Olympian gods in council.

25. Q. Technically described what is Homer’s verse? A. Dactylic hexameter.

26. Q. What is a dactyl? A. A foot of three syllables, of which the first is long and the other two short.

27. Q. In dactylic hexameter how many of these feet are there in a line? A. Six.

28. Q. Name a classic English poem written in dactylic hexameter. A. Longfellow’s “Evangeline.”

29. Q. In what celebrated descriptive passage does Homer exhaust all his art? A. In his description of the shield of Achilles.

30. Q. What does the Odyssey mean? A. The poem of Odysseus, or Ulysses, king of the island of Ithaca.

31. Q. When Troy was taken, for what place did Odysseus and his followers sail? A. Ithaca.

32. Q. On their way, to what land were they driven? A. That of the Cyclops, a savage race of one-eyed giants.

33. Q. Here what did Odysseus do to the Cyclop Polyphemus? A. He put out the eye of the monster after he had eaten six of the hero’s comrades.

34. Q. What did Poseidon, the god of the sea and father of Polyphemus, do in revenge? A. He doomed Odysseus to wander far and wide over the sea to strange lands.

35. Q. When the Odyssey begins, ten years after the fall of Troy, where is Odysseus? A. In the island of Ogygia, at the center of the sea, where for seven years the nymph Calypso has detained him against his will.

36. Q. Meanwhile what has befallen Penelope, the wife of Odysseus, in Ithaca? A. She has been courted by more than a hundred suitors, lawless, violent men, who feast riotously in the house of Odysseus as if it were their own.

37. Q. When Odysseus at length gets permission to sail from Ogygia, and starts on a raft, what occurs to him? A. Poseidon wrecks his raft, and he is thrown upon the island of the Phæacians, a rich and happy people near to the gods.

38. Q. Upon being entertained by the king of the Phæacians, what are the subjects of some of the adventures he relates? A. The Enchantress Circe, the sweet-singing sirens, and the passage between Scylla and Charybdis.

39. Q. After Odysseus is taken back to Ithaca by a Phæacian crew, what is the fate of the suitors of Penelope? A. They are all slain in the palace by Odysseus, assisted by his son Telemachus and two trusty servants.

40. Q. What are some of the most noted translations of the Odyssey? A. Chapman’s, Pope’s, Cowper’s, Worsley’s, and Bryant’s.

41. Q. In what form is Worsley’s translation written? A. The Spenserian Stanza, that adopted by Edmund Spenser for his great poem of the “Fairy Queen.”

42. Q. Name some other well-known poems written in the Spenserian Stanza. A. Thompson’s “Castle of Indolence,” Beattie’s “Minstrel,” and Byron’s “Childe Harold.”

43. Q. What part of the adventures of Odysseus does our author first give in an extended quotation from Worsley’s translation of the Odyssey? A. His stay in the country of the Phæacians.

44. Q. What was the name of the king of the Phæacians, frequently referred to in poetry containing classical allusions? A. Alcinous.

45. Q. What American author has written a version of the legend of Circe? A. Hawthorne in his “Tanglewood Tales.”

46. Q. Of what is the next extended quotation descriptive that is given by our author from Worsley’s translation of the Odyssey? A. The slaughter of the suitors of Penelope by Odysseus and his son.

47. Q. Of what are the remaining quotations given descriptive? A. Odysseus making himself known to Penelope, his wife, and to Laertes, his father.

48. Q. Who now intervenes to avert further bloodshed? A. Athene.

49. Q. In what manner is this accomplished? A. She stays the hand of Ulysses raised in fell self-defense against the avenging kindred of the suitors, and enjoins a solid peace between the two parties at feud.

50. Q. In this appearance what familiar form does the goddess Athene assume? A. That of Mentor, ancient friend of Ulysses.

[Not Required.]

QUESTIONS FOR FURTHER STUDY.

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

1. What is the origin of the expression, “Possession is nine points in the law?” [Page 124, Wilkinson’s Preparatory Greek Course in English.]

2. What was the preying sadness that Cowper sought to escape from by the work of translating Homer? [Page 130.]

3. Where is the original to be found of the quotation, “From the center to the utmost pole?” [Page 135.]

4. Who was “Macedonia’s Madman,” and why so called?

5. Give some of the features of the Cathedral of Cologne that render it famous? [Page 159.]

6. With whom did the expression originate, “Perish the thought?” [Page 163.]

7. In what particulars are the lines of Pope, “false and contradictory,” in his paraphrase of the moonlight scene, given in the closing part of the eighth book of the Iliad? [Page 185.]

8. When and on what occasion was Webster’s famous seventh of March speech delivered? [Page 193.]

9. Why is Athene called the “stern-eyed?” [Page 208.]

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ANSWERS TO QUESTIONS FOR FURTHER STUDY IN THE NOVEMBER NUMBER OF THE CHAUTAUQUAN.

Geology.

1. The glacial streams from ice-caves that are the sources of the Arveiron and the Rhone rivers are milk-white from the presence of innumerable molecules of triturated rock which they bear suspended. This powdered rock is in the form of a very fine, impalpable mud. It is an unctious, sticky deposit, and only requires pressure to knead it into a tenacious clay. This mud owes its origin to the grinding power of the glacier, the stones and sand being crushed and pulverized upon the rock below.

2. The Grinnell glacier, discovered by Captain Hall, is just north of and adjacent to Hudson’s Strait, on the extreme southern point of Baffin’s Land, called Meta Incognita.

3. The Loffoden Islands are famous for the great maelstrom, which is a narrow passage between two of them. They are also noted for their fisheries. The evidences of the powerful wearing action of tidal currents is seen in their extremely rugged and precipitous coasts, and deep channels. Sharp pointed peaks three to four thousand feet above the sea, rise nearly perpendicularly out of the water.

4. The volcano of Jorullo is situated one hundred and sixty miles southeast of the City of Mexico. It is famous for its recent and sudden upheaval during a single night, in the midst of a fertile and highly cultivated plain.

5. Earthquakes are spoken of as “convulsive movements of Old Vulcan” for the reason that the ancients ascribed the cause of them to that God. Vulcan was the god of fire, and his workshop was generally supposed to be in some volcanic island.

6. The connection of the former island of Tyre with the continent is not wholly due to the rising of the land from beneath. In the siege of Tyre by Alexander, 332 B. C., he united the island to the main land by an enormous artificial mole. This has been increased by ruins and alluvial deposits.

History of Greece.

1. Earth and water given to the Persian heralds were regarded as symbols of submission, because the earth represented the land, and the water the sea, and the meaning was that they were willing to yield dominion of both to the Persians.

2. The festival of the Karneian Apollo was a festival observed in many of the Grecian cities, especially in Sparta, where it was first instituted, in honor of Apollo Carneius. The celebration lasted nine days, and during the time nine tents were pitched near the city, and nine men lived in them after the manner of a military camp, obeying in everything the order of a herald.

3. The pæan, or war song of the Greeks, was a song originally sung in honor of Apollo, and was always of a joyous nature. It was also sung as a battle song, both before an attack on an enemy, and after the battle was finished. In later times it was sometimes sung in honor of mortals.

4. The tomb of Mausolus is one of the seven wonders of the world, associated with the name of Artemisia, queen of Halicarnassus, inasmuch as the Mausoleum was built by another queen of the same name, distinguished as Artemicia, queen of Caria.

5. According to Thucydides the sacrifice made by Pausanias during the battle of Platæa was made to Jupiter in the market-place of Platæa. It was a bloody sacrifice, probably of some domestic animal, and from the entrails or the manner of the death the soothsayers sought to interpret the will of the gods.

6. The Island of Delos was called sacred because it was said to have been the birth-place of Apollo and Diana. In 426 B. C. it was purified by the Athenians by having all tombs removed from it.

Geology.

1. The Fille-Fond, or Fille-Field, is a mountain plateau of Norway, connected with the Songe-Fjeld on the north and the Hardanger-Fjeld on the south. The summits vary in height from 4,900 feet to 6,300 feet.

2. The common name of the Chimæra is the Sea-cat. It is so called on account of its eyes. They have a greenish pupil surrounded by a white iris, and they shine, especially at night, like cats’ eyes. It is also called “King of the Herring.”

3. By the “Old Red Sandstone” of Europe is meant the Devonian Rocks. These rocks are called “red” on account of their color, and “old” to distinguish them from the New Red Sandstone, which appears in the triassic period.

4. Some of the eccentric features which probably caused the astonishment of Cuvier on examining the Plesiosauri for the first time are the following: to a lizard’s head it united the teeth of a crocodile, a neck like a serpent’s body, the trunk and tail of a quadruped, the vertebræ of a fish, the ribs of a chameleon, and the fins of a whale.

5. Some of the fossil footprints in the Connecticut Valley, made by colossal reptiles, are called “bird tracks” because they were at first supposed to be the tracks of birds, a large part of them resembling the impressions of birds’ feet more than those of any known animal.

6. The Loup Fork Beds are beds of Pliocene deposit which occur on the Loup Fork of the Platte River in the Upper Missouri region.

History of Greece.

1. The Helots were Spartan slaves. They were said to have been the native population of a portion of the Peloponnesus, and to have been subjected to slavery by the invading Dorians.

2. The “sacred wars” were wars relative to the possession of the Temple at Delphi and its treasures.

3. The Alkmæonidæ were a noble and wealthy family of Athens, descended from Alkmæon, who was a descendant of King Codrus. They were considered sacrilegious on account of the way in which Megacles, one of the family, treated the insurgents under Cylon. Having taken refuge at the altar of Minerva, on the Acropolis, Megacles induced them to withdraw on the promise that their lives should be spared, but their enemies put them to death as soon as they had them in their power.

4. The Untori, in the plague of Milan, in 1630, were persons suspected of anointing doors with pestilential ointment, and thus spreading the disease. Many persons were arrested and put to death on this suspicion.

5. Hermes was the Greek name for Mercury, the messenger of the gods.

6. The class Mothakes were emancipated Helots, who had been domestic slaves.

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Correct answers to all the questions for further study in the November number of The Chautauquan have been received from Rev. R. H. and Mrs. Mary A. Howard, Saxonville, Mass.; Miss Maggie V. Wilcox, 605 North Thirty-fifth street, West Philadelphia, Pa.; Mrs. L. A. Chubbuck, New Bedford, Mass., and Miss Mary P. Whitney, Wagon Works, Ohio. A large number of other members have sent replies, and some of the papers show much diligent research, but as one or more of the answers in each paper are incorrect we have not given the names. A comparison of the answers as printed with those sent will show wherein the failures have been.

Members of the C. L. S. C. are not required to answer questions for further study. Those who are able to procure correct answers to all the questions for further study in this number of The Chautauquan will receive an acknowledgment if the replies are forwarded to Albert M. Martin, General Secretary C. L. S. C., Pittsburgh, Pa., so as to reach him not later than the 31st of January. Answers will be published in the March number of The Chautauquan. No answers need be sent unless they are to all the questions.

[OUTLINE OF C. L. S. C. STUDIES FOR JANUARY.]

For the month of January the required C. L. S. C. Reading comprises Prof. Wilkinson’s Preparatory Greek Course in English, the last half of the book, and readings in English, Russian, Scandinavian, and Religious History and Literature, and also readings in Bible History and Literature. The reading in Prof. Wilkinson’s Preparatory Greek course in English is from page 124 to the end of the book. The remainder of the reading for the month is printed in The Chautauquan. The following is the division according to weeks:

First Week—1. Wilkinson’s Preparatory Greek Course in English, from page 124 to page 158.

2. Reading in Bible History and Literature, in The Chautauquan.

3. Sunday Readings, in The Chautauquan, selection for January 7.

Second Week—1. Wilkinson’s Preparatory Greek Course in English, from last paragraph on page 158 to last paragraph on page 198.

2. History of Russia, in The Chautauquan.

3. Sunday Readings, in The Chautauquan, selected for January 14.

Third Week—1. Wilkinson’s Preparatory Greek Course in English, from last paragraph on page 198 to last paragraph on 229.

2. Pictures from English History, in The Chautauquan.

3. Sunday Readings, in The Chautauquan, selection for January 21.

Fourth Week—1. Wilkinson’s Preparatory Greek Course In English, from last paragraph on page 229 to end of book.

2. Readings in Scandinavian History and Literature, in The Chautauquan.

3. Sunday Readings, in The Chautauquan, selection for January 28.

C. L. S. C. ROUND-TABLE.[I]

The lecturer of the afternoon, Colonel Daniels, of Virginia, was introduced.

Colonel Daniels: Your commander-in-chief and shepherd of this flock asked me to talk about “How to Teach Geology.” I did not come down here for any such purpose. I came to have a little rest and have a good time, and get acquainted with Chautauqua. But as I am here, I am glad to be set at work in any way to keep me out of mischief.

He said on a subsequent occasion that he did not want me to give a written lecture. That reminds me of a story that I heard Senator Nye tell years ago in a speech. He told of one of those excellent boys that die young, standing by the roadside, and a man was on a prancing steed. The man said, “Boy, when I get up to you, don’t you take off your hat and make a bow and scare this colt; he will throw me off.” Said the boy, with rustic simplicity, “I was not going to.” [Applause and laughter.]

I suppose that my excellent friend has to keep on guard. There are prowling around through these trees people with their pockets stuffed full of old sermons and lectures, and he is always on guard to keep them from firing them off to scare his pet C. L. S. C. So I was not mad a bit. [Laughter.]

Well, now, to plunge in medias res, it is a beautiful thing to study geology. This planet was our birth place. It is the way of God. And here in its strata is written by the finger of God himself the history of all that mighty series of events through which it passed from the time it emerged from primary chaos until to-day. It is scarcely possible that any person should believe in studying the works of God, and fail to see that this portion of his work, which lies in immediate contact with us, from which in so many ways we draw sustenance, in connection with which we have our being, and from out of which flows the stream of that abundant supply which God has provided for his children, and which for all our time is to be the theater of action of our race, should be studied.

But how, how taught? Don’t give any written lectures now. I will tell you how not to do it. If you are going to teach geology, don’t deliver written lectures. Write all you can about it, but don’t deliver it. I delivered a written lecture once, and that is the reason I never delivered any more.

I began studying geology when a boy, when I was put to studying a hoe-handle and ten acres of corn for about three weeks. There were lots of these pieces of stone, and my uncle, a good old Methodist class-leader, told me that God put those stones there at the time of the deluge. That satisfied me. But when I was on a government survey away in the West, I saw hundreds and thousands of feet of those rocks, such as I saw this morning when I picked up these stones. Here you see a complete mass of shells. Such rocks make up the bluffs of the Mississippi River. We have twenty thousand feet of these in Colorado. Major Buell told me that he got in one place twenty-seven thousand feet. Then I was not satisfied. I began to look a little further. By-and-by, in the district school library, I got hold of Randall’s Geology, that blessed old book, and it began to open my mind a little. I was on these surveys, and I began to have more and more practical lessons. Among the lead mines of Wisconsin I found the miners wanted practical knowledge, and I undertook to teach them a little. I remember my first attempt on a slate; then I took my bristol-board and made some diagrams. And then in a store, and then in a church; in the basement first, and then I got up into the church. So I taught the rudest kind of people, and from one lecture, I gave two, three, four, five, and on up to fifteen. I gained a local reputation, and got to be State Geologist of Wisconsin, and was tolerably well known in that country as a practical geologist. But I had no scientific knowledge of geology.

A good friend of mine wanted to see me advanced in life, and so sent word to me if I would come and deliver a lecture on geology before the board of their college, he thought I would get a professorship. It was an Old School Presbyterian college. I prepared myself without regard to expense. I went down to Boston, and saw Prof. Hitchcock and Prof. Agassiz, and I hunted through the books, and I made a lecture. You ought to have heard it. [Laughter.] You would not be here now. [Laughter.] It treated of all the cosmogonies; it went through primal chaos, through the azoic, the silurian, the devonian, and the various strata, until it introduced man on the scene. It took me two hours. It was a cold night, and they all shivered, and looked as if they wished I was in some warmer place. I did not get the professorship, and the college died the next year. [Laughter.]

Write all you can, it tends to make you accurate and fixes your knowledge, and then do with it as a good old Methodist presiding elder told me once on a time. We had planted some melons and cucumbers, but he did not seem to be pleased with them. He told the folks that we had splendid cucumbers, and he knew how to fix them: slice them up thin, put them in water, turn off the water, and put on pepper and salt, and throw them out of the window. That is what you are to do with the written lectures, read, write, and, as Emerson says, get drunk with your subject. You will not hear anything more of the dryness of your subject. It makes a subject dry because a man has not got enough of it in him to see the great connecting principles in him, so that he is aroused and sees the ultimate of it as well as the details, and the ultimate of it is man. It is for man and made for man. This being created here and being put in the midst of all of these things, is to make him greater, grander, and bring him into relation with the truth, and then by symmetrizing his being and aligning him with God in the great work of God, that is to make of this globe a heaven.

Geology will help you to do that, as the Bishop said yesterday, it will give you visions of the infinite possibilities of yourselves when you once align yourselves with God and live up to the truth. God has put into your hands the power to subordinate this globe, its storms, its climates, and their condition; you want geology for that. You want to begin to know these rocks at Chautauqua. I would like to put in your collection first, all the stones in the vicinity of Chautauqua. Go out into the quarry, with its masonry that God has built. Here you find the stones all covered over with God’s hieroglyphics, here they are, corals, shells, and things that were alive. If you knew a way of petrifying these trees and plants, would you not think it was a pleasing way and do it? Here it is done. Here you have a study, a whole natural history, a whole natural creation that God made in order to make man possible, and capable of producing grain and grass and flower to make man live, all depending upon the fact that these rocks were built up as you find them to-day.

You find the old rocks arranged in strata, layers. You have them there by the depot. How was that? Go by the hillside. Let a portion of the drops of rain get together and make a stream, and they will form a gulley. What do you see? The soil has been washed out, and the material of the soil has been spread out. A pond, perhaps, will be there, such as you and I used to navigate, and then it dries up on the surface, and cracks at right angles. Here it is. There was a little mud puddle, and it cracked when it dried up. If you will take up a piece of it, you will find that it is arranged in layers. Here, see that. Through all that summer, and the previous summer, there was a succession of storms, and each one brought its contribution to the whole. If it was a big storm, it was thick, if a little storm, it was thin. Just like the exogenous trees. You count the lines of growth, and know the age of the tree. We have one layer spread over the other, all little volumes, but when it has quit growing, as in libraries, you will have a thick book. So, I say the layers write the storms of the past.

What else would we find there? If there were snails, leaves and sticks, they would be carried down and buried in the mud. If we take a section, and take out all that loose stuff, we have a section which gives a history of the different seasons, and the animals and plants that washed in there during the time that little mud puddle had been in existence. That is the beginning, the starting point of all the knowledge of the rocks; to begin right by us and see what is done now, and observe that wearing action. If you will go from that little gulley on the hillside to a larger valley, and still larger, to the great valley of the Mississippi, you will find the same thing repeated.

Here is a specimen that I got right here where they are ballasting the road. Here you could see a mass of sand and gravel. It goes on wherever there is sand and gravel and there is lime and water; it is compounded together. We have there fossils. Here, for instance, you have various forms of plants and corals, and so on, and you have here in the rocks right about you shells, coral, seaweed, preserved in the same way. Thus you get your petrefactions. Thus you get the layers that you call strata. All these layers of rock are simply sediment that was once carried down and spread out in a body of water. Is not that simple enough?

Here is that slab, all covered over with seaweed and shells, that was one time a bottom of the ocean; there was a volume of clay, and you see resting in there rolls of seaweed. Trailing over this all along these shores on the spot where we now stand, there were seaweed, and coral, and all the animal life. Here is a head of a large animal, a cephalopod, and here is a tail, and the rest of the body is probably under the railroad track. Here is a curved shell. This rock abounds in the ocean. They were the pirates of the ocean. They were the ancient devilfish. They had enormous arms. They were very fine in their time, but, as some one says about the Pilgrim Fathers, we should be thankful that they did not come down to us.

We have another class of rocks in our boulders and hard heads. Here are some without any section. Here is a mass of modern lava. Here you see this huge mass. All these landscapes show the different kinds of rocks in their relations. This irregular mass is the unstratified rocks. They have been melted and cooled from a state of melting. We know them to be crystals. They consist of quartz, feldspar, and mica, which are the alphabet of mineralogy. We have the crystals, which we know only exist when there has been a state of melting. These unstratified rocks are the material of all our quarries and great rocks.

There are two great classes: the stratified, in layers, which came from sediment deposited in the ancient seas, and the unstratified, which were once melted masses thrown out of the interior of the earth. The granite, the unstratified rocks, form the backbone of the continent; they are the underlying rocks. They occur as veins, coming up through the stratified rocks, and overflowing the surface.

Now, in this section of the rocks which we have as they are stratified, formed in layers one above the other, we come to the idea of time. I was going along this morning, with a basket and one of these stones in my hand, and a man’s attention was attracted, and he asked how long since those animals were alive. I said a million of years. He looked rather astonished, and expressed himself that I could not know. The idea of such great amounts of time strikes any one like the vast areas of space. At the first step in geology we have got to expand our notions of time. The six thousand years will not do. Some people think there is something in the Bible about six thousand years. There is no such thing. It is a chronology that has grown up like Milton’s Paradise Lost. Many people think that Milton’s Paradise Lost is a part of the Bible. In Genesis we are told of days, which everybody understands to mean periods of time, and of time since the beginning, when the earth was without form and void. We have nothing definite said in the Bible, or any other book, except the approximate indications which are found in the great stone book of Nature.

Let us look at the idea of time, and see how we get at it. If we should come again to the mud puddle dried up, we should get an approximate idea of how long it took to form the deposit. Suppose we do not know the history, we know about the number of storms that are usual, and the amount of rainfall, and we have some guide in that succession of layers that are there. In the ancient rocks we have exactly the same guide. Somebody says in answer to all this, that in some places deposits take place very rapidly, and we can not judge. For instance, a flood in the Mississippi bears down a vast amount of matter. There is a delta of the Mississippi that has been built out during the memory of man. Whenever we find coarse material in a delta we say it was rapidly formed; if it is fine material, we say it was formed slowly. To-day the Mississippi is bearing down a vast mass of material, and the coarser materials drop by the mouth, but the finer are carried out over the sea, perhaps along the shore. This fine silt settles down amid the corals, the sea-weed and the ships. If the ocean could be drained, we would find on the decks of the ships that have been sunk a hundred years, as the divers tell us, this deposition on the bottom of the sea. No one can doubt about these deposits which have so many shells, that the deposit was made very slowly, because it would have been impossible for the shells to have lived if the material had been thrown down rapidly.

Therefore, when we come to take the rate of deposit, and the vast thickness of these rocks into account, we have a basis for determining approximately the periods of the time during which these rocks have formed. Of course, it is only to those who become minutely intelligent in regard to the details that this thought will have weight. If, for instance, I should go along where a man was cutting a tree, and count the annular rings, and I had never seen a tree cut down; if he should say an hundred years ago that tree was an acorn, I should be astonished, and it would have no weight with me, for I would not have the knowledge necessary. It is necessary to become familiar with this class of phenomena. Therefore in the beginning we want to study the phenomena that are taking place on the seashore, at the mouth of the rivers, and compare these with the phenomena that we find in the rock.

I recall a notable instance of this: That grand man, President Hitchcock, long since gone to rest, one of the greatest and most eminent scientists of his State, discovered tracks in the valley of the Connecticut River. He had to classify some sixty different classes of tracks, which are found in the valley of the Connecticut sandstone ledges, which, when it was soft, was admirably calculated to receive impressions. His attention was called to them, and he made them out to be bird tracks. The European naturalists were very reluctant to believe it. They did not believe that any such discovery could be made by any American. They sent over a man to see the alleged bird tracks, and he went all over the museum, and he went down to the quarry and saw all the specimens, and went away and came back again. President Hitchcock asked him about it, and he said that he did not think there were any bird tracks there. After dinner he took him out to the porch. A few days before he had found a flat stone, on which mud had been deposited, and a snipe had walked over it; the mud dried, and he thought it was an exact parallel with his bird tracks. So he put it on his porch. The gentleman said, “What have you got here?” There they were, the tracks of a bird, and a wader. He said nothing. He went away, and said they were bird tracks. He wrote afterward that he had for the first time to study how a wading bird walked on both sides of a median line. And so when he studied the habits of a bird, he saw that these fossils were bird tracks. I speak of this because it is a key.

I allude again to that sermon of Bishop Simpson’s, where Job asks these questions, and the Lord tells him to find out that right next to him. Why don’t you study that, and interpret it in that manner so sensible? You find everywhere we are doing that. On that account people can not get a knowledge of geology, because geology asks you to commence right at the door. Stoop and pick up the pebble there; learn the soil, and teach yourselves and your children what it was. This is a progressive world where we have all got to begin. It seems wonderful that we have not done that before. If you will try it, if you will get the first weed by your door, and teach your children about it, and go out further and study geology and all the other ologies in that way, life will be lifted on the highest plane for all. [Applause.] Everybody that has tried that has found an exceeding great reward.

I remember years ago a poem by James Russell Lowell, in which he describes the prophet going up to the hoary mountain to go and learn from God.

“Worn and footsore was the prophet,

When he gained the holy hill;

‘God has left the earth,’ he murmured,

‘Here his presence lingers still.’

‘God of all the olden prophets,

Wilt thou speak with men no more?

Have I not as truly served thee

As thy chosen ones of yore?

Hear me, Guider of my fathers,

Lo! a humble heart is mine;

By thy mercy I beseech thee,

Grant thy servant but a sign!’

Bowing then his head, he listened

For an answer to his prayer;

No loud burst of thunder followed,

Not a murmur stirred the air:

But the tuft of moss before him

Opened while he waited yet,

And, from out the rock’s hard bosom,

Sprang a tender violet.

‘God, I thank thee,’ said the prophet,

‘Hard of heart and blind was I,

Looking to the holy mountain

For the gift of prophecy.

Still thou speakest with thy children

Freely as in eld sublime;

Humbleness, and love, and patience,

Still give empire over time.

Had I trusted in thy nature,

And had faith in lowly things,

Thou thyself wouldst then have sought me,

And set free my spirit’s wings.

But I looked for signs and wonders,

That o’er men should give me sway;

Thirsting to be more than mortal,

I was even less than clay.

Ere I entered on my journey,

As I girt my loins to start,

Ran to me my little daughter,

The beloved of my heart;

In her hand she held a flower,

Like to this as like may be,

Which beside my very threshold,

She had plucked and brought to me.’“

[Applause.]

Now, I simply say, if there are those who wish to pursue the study of geology, I will be very glad while I stay here to be of any assistance I can to you. I know the difficulty of starting without some help. The geology published here by Prof. Packard is an admirable little treatise, but with the reading of that you need observation and the knowledge to be gained by handling the specimens. If there are those who would like to learn, I am at liberty after 5 o’clock in the morning for a few days. I get up at 5 and keep very still. If you could keep those bells still that keep me awake until about 11:30: I like babies, but if you could put the babies in some babies’ retreat for a little while——.

The geological charts are excellent for teaching in a circle or a school. These are the charts that are published with Prof. Packard’s Geology. With the book they will enable one to get a very good idea of geology. If you will take up geology now, and start here, we will start from the quarry. These specimens will decay; one-half of them will go down into the lake very soon. I went out here and saw these splendid books being wasted, so I made use of a few of them. These will be a starting point in your museum, and then every C. L. S. C. on this continent will send from his locality a box of specimens, two or three of them, express paid, to your museum, and I will send my quota from West Virginia. And I will come over here some time and help label them. [Applause.]

[Pointing to the charts behind him.] Here is a section of rocks from below, and here are the different phenomena of volcanic action. Here is a picture of the ancient seas. There is one of these valleys. There are vast species of chambered shells. We have now only one species living, the chambered nautilus. The animal had the power of increasing or diminishing his density by absorbing or casting out water. Here is another representative of the animals that have been restored by the laws of comparative anatomy. Cuvier, or Agassiz, by a bone, or scale, even, could restore an animal. Here are some of your ancestors. Here is a specimen of the plesiosaurus and the iguanodon. These are marine animals. These are more modern. This is the period of bone caves. This was a great clawed animal, that was for a long time supposed to be a lion. Here is a representation of the ice period, of which you hear so much, the period when the huge boulders were brought down. The entire collection will be one of value.

I thank you for your attention. [Applause.]

After some conversation on preparation for Commencement day, the Round-Table adjourned.

[EDITOR’S OUTLOOK.]