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1 o^ 



OLD AND NEW 



VOLUME VIII 



JULY 1873, JO JANUARY 1874 



' Gently and without grief the Old shall glide 
Into the New ; the eternal fear of things, 
Like a bright river of the fields of heaven. 
Shall joomey onward in perpetual peace." 

Bktamt. 



BOSTON 
ROBERTS BROTHERS, 143 WASHINGTON STREET 

THE TRADE SUPPLIED BY 
F. a PERKINS, BUSINESS AGENT, 143 WASHINGTON ST., BOSTON, MASS. 
LONDON : SAMPSON LOW & CO. 

1873 



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Entered tooording to Act of Congiess in the year 18739 bf 

Proprxbtoss of "Old and Niw,** 
In the Office of the Librarian of Congreaa as Waihingtim. 



FrA$Ud h Alfrwd Mudg9 ^ Sam, 14 Sckmi Si,, Bmimu 



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CONTENTS YOL. VIIL 



JULY. 

Old and New ••• • . •••••••••• 1 

Mr Time, and What I 're Done with It. (Chap. XIII-XVI.) •F.C.Bumand ••••••••••• 7 

The Smiths George W. Sear9 27 

Washingtoa UnlTetaity W. u. Eliot 28 

Ipde ILA. BerUm 86 

uwrcion in the Later Stages of Edacation ••••.••••• Jl P. Quincjf ..••...* 44 

Tbe SpcdalUes Edward E. Hals 68 

Traces in Frint of Daniel Wobster*8 Work In College 60 

Berope; or, The Lost Library. (Chap. XUI-XV.) Frederic B, Per bini 73 

Tbe Keeord • T. 0,A • 96 

Tbe Oranges of the Patrons ef Ilusbandry Mr9. Pauline SweUm M 

The Examiner • .' 106 

Rbcoro op Progress • 121 

McncAi. Review 120 

COLIXQX DUUSCTOST • 1 



AUGUST. 

Oldand New 124 

My Time, and What I Ve Done with It. (Chap. XVH-XX.)] F, C. Bumand ISO 

Bulled Labor, and the Distaste of American Boys for Trades. G,W.P 150 

Low Tides 168 

A Hopeless Attachment Theodore M. Osborne ........ 160 

Republics in Uie Old World Kfithttn Appleton 173 

On Duty ; . . . . Lucretia P. Bale 182 

An Auirust SanrfM , , T. O. A 100 

Coantry SierliU and Sounds M. 11. IRnddey 101 

Phitip Gilbert Ilamcrton JToraiio y. Powere 100 

Bcropc; or. The Ixwt Library. (Chap. XVI-XVn.) ..... Frederic B, Perkini 208 

THE EXAUINER «....220 

Record or Progress 228 

Fixe Art 240 

HuaiCAi. Oeview. 252 



SEPTEMBER. 

Old and New 257 

lly Time, and What I Ve Done with It. (Chap. XXI-XXm.) 1^. C. JSunuxfid 268 

Beaotontimoroumcuos ....•/?. 5. 7)/rwhUt 282 

Againut Darwinism Geo. M. Kellogg^ Af.D .283 

The Last Witch Clara F. Guernsey 208 

Oamett^s Escapo Col. Chae. WhiUUMey 802 

At tbe Medium's T. G. A 300 

The AMyrian runcifnnn Inscriptions G. A. Schmitt .......... .814 

The New England ^'phinx Dr. V. G. Smith "310 

Farmers and iSailronids . Edward Stanwood 836 

The ExAMixr.R 360 

Record or I'rogress 368 

Fixe Art 376 

McsiCAL Review 881 



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iv Conterda. 



OCTOBER. 

Old and New 88ft 

A Tale of the Simplon ' Edward E. HaU . • • . 808 

Pack _i_*_' » « « « . Wm. W. Young • 400 

liy Time, and What I Ve Done with It. (Ohap.XXIV-XXVI.) F. C. Bumand 401 

Bocialism in Europe. (I.) AtuHn Bierbower 422 

Country Bighte and Sonnda i£. H, EinckUy 431 

A Flower Koom Marie Howland 435 

The Changeling Latienne 442 

The Father of Zebedee'a Ohildren O. Haven Putnam 445 

Boaan Goes to the Derby Mias 8, Hale 451 

la Seeing Believing? 0.8. Adame 469 

The Bprlngfleld Regatta C.P.E.Bwgwyn 489 

Bcrope; or, the Lost Library. (Ohap. JLViii-XIX.) Frederic B. PerHne 480 

THE EXAJIINER .494 

MunoAi. Rbtiew • . . 610 



NOVEMBER. 

Old and New 618 

lioonUgfat H,A. Berton . • • 619 

Socialiam in Borope. (II.) Austin Bierbower 626 

Penekeae T. O.A. ...•••••.....• 638 

liy Time, and What I Ve Done with It. (Chap.JL2LVU-'2L2LiiL.) F. C. Bumand . . . 634 

Reliable Frederic B, Perkina • • 668 

The Unknown Valley J.P.L 669 

ATaleoftheBimplon. (Condnded.) Edward E. Hale 667 

Our eketchlngClub. (I.) Jl. 8t. JohnTurwhiU 679 

A New York View of Finance and Banking John Earl WuUams 680 

The "Labor Reform "View of Money O.P.Q 608 

Review of the Plan of" O. P. Q.'' Rowland O. Hazard 601 

What is Money ? A Manufacturer's View 614 

Scropc; or, the Lost Library. (Ohap XX-XXL) Frederic B, PerHne ...•••• .619 

The Examines 628 

Musical Review • • .632 

Final Note on Money (2^eationa ....• ...••• 637 



DECEMBER. 

Old and New 641 

The Giant Y^na. Translation Lucretia P. Hale 646 

Charity at 0>at J. P. Quincy 666 

The Polaris , T. O. A 666 

My Time, and whatI>vo Done with It. (Ohap. XXX-XXXm.) F. C. Bumand 667 

Ferns Mrs. L. A. MHUnffton 694 

Borne Beautiful Old Carols Bev. J. VUa Blake 698 

Chockmate to Apaches Mark Sibley Severance 702 

Country 8ighto and Sounds . ,H. M. Hinckley 711 

Bcrope; or, the IxMt Library. (Chap. XXII.) Firederic B. Perkins .••••••. 716 

The Exaxiker •••••••• ....738 

Mdsicai* I^eview ••••••••••••• • 767 



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INDEX TO VOL. Yin. 



(Ktemm of mU3e» la Bomaa lower-etM, with aamct of anthon apiMndcd In naUe$. Namea of urthon alphalMted 
te SMALL CArrrAL«. Namct of book* nTleved an '*4iiot«l,** with tbair authon* namoa in Roman, and th« roTieweziP 
MBM In ^EaUca.] 



Adams Academy, 120. 

AOAiu, O. 6., 459. 

AgBinst Darwinism, Geo. M. Kellogg, 288. 

■* Air and Ventilation," 228. 

Aloott, MiM, ^* Work,"* Marv ThaeheTf 104. 

Bame, second notice, 755. 
" American Edaeational Readers," 115. 
*' American Social Science Association/' Dr. D, F, 

Lincoln, 223. 
APPLETOlf, K., 178. 
APPLETON. T. G., 95, 190, 809, 533, 665. 
Amold^s ** Literature and Dogma,'' B. E. HaUy 497. 

Same, second notice, C Palfrey, 746. 
Assyrian Cimeifonn Inscription, O. A. Schmittf 

314. 
At the Medinm*8. T. G. AppUton, 309. 
Angost (An) Sonrise, T. G. Appleton, 190. 

Bach to Rabinstein, EUU Gray, 240. 

-Berber (The)," 115. 

BERTOIf, H. A., 85, 519. 

BeekbowEB, a., 422, 525. 

Bishop Edwaids's Mistakes, E, E, Bale^ 751. 

BuiKE, J. v., 699. 

Book Notices. 104, 223, 352, 497, 620, 740. 

Bryant's " Orations," F. B, Perkins, 224. 

** Building AssociaUons," by B. Wrigley, F. B. 

Perkins, 223. 
BuBomrK, O. P. E., 460. 
BfOUf Alfl>, F. C, 7, 133, 263, 401, 534, 667. 

(Siangeling (The), Latienne, 442. 

** Chapters from the Bible of the Ages," by G. B. 
Stebbins, 114. 

C3iarity at Cost, J. P. Quincy, 656. 

Checkmate to Apaches, M. S. Severance, 702. 

Cberbaliez, ** £tades do Utt^ratare et d'Art," 861. 

ClatpoLE, E. W.,352, 740. 

Coercion in Iiater Stages of Education, J. P. 
QtUnc]f,44. 

CMlege Directory, after page 129. 

Collegiate Addresses, F. B. Perkins, 105. 

" Complete Course with German," by W. H.Wood- 
bury. F, B. Perkins, 113. 

** Cottage Residences," by A. J. Downing, 117. 

Country SighU and Sounds, AT. H. Hinddey, 191, 
431, 711. 

Cowles, H., "The Psalms," 116. 

•'Dimitri Rondtne," by I. Turgucnieff, 508. 
Downing, A. J., " Cottage Residences," 117. 
Drake, 8. A., <* Old Landmarks of Boston," 632. 
, A, on Beethoven. Miss 8. Hale, 378. 



"Elementary Manual of Chemistry," by W. B. 

Nichols, F. B. Perkins, 114. 
" Elements of Natural Philosophy," by Thomson h 

Tait. E, W. Claypole, 852. 
EUOT, W. G., 28. 
" Enigmas of Life," by W. B. Greg, F. B. Perkins^ 

225. 
** Essays," by Prof. Hodlcy, F. B. Perkins, 114. 
" Etudes de Litt^rature et d' Art," par Cherbuliez, 

361. 
Examiner, 101, 220, 850, 494, 629, 738. 

*' False PhUology," by F. Hall, F. B, Perkins, 110. 

"Faraday, M.," by J. H. Gladstone, 369. 

Farmers and Railroads, E. Stanwood, 835. 

Father (The) of Zpbedeo's COiildren, G. H. PtO- 
nam, 445. 

Ferns, Mrs. L. A. MUlington, 694. 

Final Note on Money Questions, F, B, Perkini, 
637. 

Fine Art, 240, 876. 

Flower-Room (A), Marie ffotoiand, 435. 

Folsom, E. J., ** Logic of Accounts," F, B. Per' 
kins, 177. 

Foreign Sunday-School Association, M. E, Win- 
slow, 875. 

Foster, J. W., '* Prehistoric Races," E. E. Hale, 
629. 

Gamett's Escape, C. Whittlesey, 802. 

Gasparin's " Innocent HI," 225. 

Gladstone, J. H., " M. Faraday," 869 

** Good Morals and Gentle Manners," by A. M. 

Gow, F, B. Perkins, 111. 
' Qovr, A. M., '* Good Morals and Gentle Manners,'' 

111. 
Guide-Books, E. E, Hale, 631. 
Grange, National, Officers, etc., 99. 
Granges (The), Mrs, Pauline StoaZm, 96. 
Gray, A., *' How Plants Behave," F, B, Perkins, 

114. 
Gbat, EI.LI8, 246, 376. 
Grog, W. R., "Enigmas of Life," 225, 

GUEBNSET, CIM.RA F., 293. 

Hadley, J., ♦• Essays," F. B. Perkins, 114. 
HaI£, E. E., 1, 63, 129, 257, 850, 385, 393, 404, 497^ 

505, 513, 562, 629, 631, 641, 751. 
Hale, Miss L. P., 182, 225, 507, 645. 
Hale, Miss S., 360, 378, 451, 753. 
Hall, P., '* False Philology," F. B, Perkins, 110. 
HaU, John, ** Questions of the Day," E. E, ffaU^ 

605. 



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VI 



Index. 



tiamerton, P. G., H. K, Powers^ 196. 
Hamcrton'i '' Intellectual Life," 223. 
** Handbook of Chemical Technology," by Wagnen 

113. 
Harvard Examinationfl for Women, 371. 
Hazard, R. G., 609. 

Hcautontimoroumcnoi, R. St. J. Tyrwhltt, 282. 
HeUotype, EUis Gray^Zl^. 
Hinckley, M. H., 191, 431, HI. 
Hopeless, (A), Attachment, T. M. Osborne^ 169. 
Houghton, Lord, ** Monographs," F» B. PerkinSt 

226. 
* " How Plants Behave," by A. Gray, 114. 
Howl AND, Marie, 435. 
Hunt, T. Bterrt, 228. 

Indian Affairs, J. K. Trash, 232. 

<< Innocent III." by M. do Gasparin, ARu L. P. 
HaU,22A. 

"Intellectual Life," by P. G. Hamerton, F. B, Per- 
kins, 223. 

Ipsie, H. A. BerUm, 35. 

Is Seeing Believing ? O. S. Adams, 459. 

Kellogg, George M., 283. 

Labor Ucform (The) View of Money, by O. P. Q., 

600. 
*♦ Lar8,'» by B. Taylor, F. B Perkins, 112. 
Last (The) Witch, Clara F, Guernsey, 293. 
Latienne, 442. 
Leslet, J. P., 659. 
Lincoln. Dr. D. F., 228. 
<* Literature and Dogma," by Arnold, E, E, Hale, 

497. 
Same, second notice, C. Pa^/rey, 746. 
Liverpool Convalescent Hospital, J. WtUittmSyWl, 
** Logic of Accounts, ' by B. G. Folsom, F, B, Per* 

kins. 111. 
** Love In the Nineteenth Century," by Mlis H. W. 

Preston, F. B, Perkins, 226, 
Low Tides, 159. 

Marmicr, X, " Robert Bruce," 116. 
Massachusetts Charities and Health Rei>ort«, 363. 
"May. S. J., Memoir of," F. B, Perkins, 110. 
Millington, Mrs. L. A., 694. 
*' Monographs." by Lord Houghton, F. B, Perkins, 

226. 
Moonlight, J7. A, Berton, 510. 
MuUooly, J., <' Saint Clement," 357. 
Musical Koview, 125, 252. 381, 610, 633, 757. 
«• My Cler.cal Friends." F. B. Perkins, 224. 
My Time, and what IVe Done with It, F. C. Bur- 

nand, 7, 133, 263, 401, 634, 667. 

Now England (The) Sphinx, Dr, V. O. Smith, 819. 
Now German Books, Miss Susan Hale, 360. 
New Pictures by T. L. Smith, O. W, V. Smith, 

245. 
'* New York Observer Year-Book," F. B, Perkins, 

115. 
New York (A)' View of Finance and Banking, J, 

E. WiUiaths,6S9. 
Nichols, W. R., ** Elementary "M^at^imi of Chemle- 

try," 114. 

Old and New Editorial, E. E, Hate, 1, 120, 257, 

385, 513, 641. 
'< Old Land Marks of Boston," by S. A. Drake, E, 

E. Hale, 632. 
On Duty, mn L. P. Hale, 182. 



Osborne, T. M., 169. 
Other New Books, 118, 226, 361, 509. 
Our Sketching Club, It. St. J. Tyrwhitt, 677. 
** Outlines of German Literature." Miss B. Halo, 
763. 

Palfrey, C, 746. 

Penekese, T. O, Appleton, 633. 

Perkins, F. B., 73, 101, 105, 108-116, 123, 220, 223- 
226, 350, 494, 558, 629, 637. 

Polaris (The), T, <?. Appleton, 665. 

Potter, Rev. H. C *' Sisterhoods and Deaconess- 
es," 113. 

Powers, G. W., 154. 

Powers, H. N.. 196. 

•• Practical (The) Magazine," F. B. Perkins, 123. 

" Prehistoric llaccs," Foster's, E. E. Hale, 629. 

Preparatory (A) School, J. P. Quincy, 120. 

Preston, Miss H. W., "Love in the Nineteenth 
Century." 226. 

" Psalms (The)," by Rev. H. Cowles, 116. 

Publications of the Prince Society, O. C. Smith, 763* 

Puck, W. W. Youiig, 400. 

Putnam, G. H., 445, 

** l^utnam's Educational Manuals," 116. 

" Putnam's Elementary Science Series," 112. 

" Putnam's Popular Manuals," 116. 

"Questions of the Day," by Rev. John Hall, E, S, 

Hale, 505. 
QUINCT, J. P., 44, 120, 656. 

Record (The), T, G. Appleton, 05. 

Record of Progress, 120, 228, 363. 

Reliable, F. B. Perkins, 658. 

Republics In the Old Worid, IT. Appleton, 178. 

Review of Plan of O. P. Q., B. G. Hazard, 600. 

" Robert Bruce," par X. Marmier, 116. 

Romanach Languages, E. E. Hale, 494. 

•' Saint Clement," by Joseph Mullooly, 867. 

Sand, Georgb, 645. 

schmitt, g. a., 314. 

Scrope ; or, The Lost Library, F, B, Perkins, 73, 

203, 480, 614, 716. 
Sears, George W., 27. 
Severance, M. S.. 702. 

Sibley's •* Harvard Graduates," C. C. Smith, 601. 
'* Sisterhoods and Deaconesses," by Rev. H. O. 

Potter, F. B. Perkins, 113. , 

Skilled Labor, and Distaste of American Boys for 

Trades, G. IF. Powers, 164. 
Sboth, O. C. 501, 763. 
SMiTn, G. W. v., 245. 
Smith, T., Pictures by, 246. 
Smith, Dr. V. G., 319. 
Smiths, The, George W. Sears, 27. 
Socialism in Europe, A. Bierbower, 422, 625. 
Some Beautiful Old Carols, J. V. Blake, 690. 
*' Speaker's Commentary," 107. 
Specialties (The), S. E. Hale, 68. 
Springfield (The) RegatU, C. P. E, Burgwpn, 400. 
Stanwood, E., 335. 
Statesman's Year-Book, 766. 
Stebbins, G. B., <* Chapters fh>m the Bible of the 

Ages," 114. 
Susan Goes to the Derby, Miss S. Hale, 461. 
Swalm, Mrs. Pauline, 96. 

Tale (A) of the Simplon, E, E. Hale, 893. 662. 
Talk (A) about Art, W. H, Winslow, 240. 
Taylor, B., " Lars,'» 112. 



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vu 



TBACH2R, ICaBT, 104. • 

Thomson flb Tait*8 '* Elements of Philosophy,'' 352. 
Tncea In Print of. Daniel Webster's Work la Col- 
lege, 00. 
Trask, J. N"., 232. 
Tiu:gaenleff's *' Dimitri Rondine," 508. 
Tyndall on LJght» B. W. ClaypoU^ 740. 
T lH w m ri', R. si. J., 282, 6^7. ' 

Unknown (The) Valley, J. P. XefZey, 559. 

VentiUdon, T. 8. Hont on (abstract), 228. 
** Vox Humana," 116. 

Wa8:ner's *' Gbemieal Technology," F, B, Perkim, 

118. 
Wa^ington UnlTersity, W. O. ElM^ 28. 
Webster. I>anlel, in College, 60. 
•• Webster's Dictionary," F, B. PerHru, 108. 
What la Money ? a Mannfactorer's View, 611. 



Whittleset, Col. C, 802. 

WlLUAMS, J., 807. 

Williams, J. E., 589. 

WiNSLOw, M. E., 376. 

WmsLOw, W. H., 240. 

"Woman in American Society," by Mr*. Wool- 
son, Mita L. P. Hale, 507. 

Woodbury, W. H., " Complete Coarse with Ger- 
man," 113. 

Woolson, Mrs., *< Woman in American Society," 
507. 

" Worcester's Dictionary," F, B. Perkins, 109. 

** Worcester's Pocket Dictionary," 115. 

«* Work," by Miss Alcott. Mary Thacher, 104. 
Same, second notice, 755. 

Wrigley's " Building Associations," 223. 

T^us, by GeorffC Sand, translated by IfZM L. P. 

J?ale,645. 
TocHO, W. W., 400. 



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Our Tliirt3rPoiir Renewal Premiuin Pictures. 



We this year present to each of our subscribers who renews for IB 74, 
Two Fac'SimileH of Steel Enftravings ^ 
To be selected at pleasure from thirty-four pictures, the largestpf them being 
tiiirty inches long by twenty-four wide, and the collection forming a really 
artistic and permanently delightful ornament to any parlor or sitting-room. 
The terms upon which they are furnished are so easy that we feel warranted 
in claiming that our Renewal Premium for this year 'is an advance in the 
popularizing of real art. 

They are assorted with a good deal of judgment, and belong to the most 
widely popular departments of picture art ; namel}', Religious, Domestic 
or Social, and Landscape. Some of the religious subjects are ; — 

Raphael^H Madonna. The original of this picture, known as the 
Dresden or Sistine Madonna, is the most famous painting in the whole world. 

Murtllo^s Immaculate Conception. A picture whose reputa- 
tion is inferior only to the preceding, and of wonderful softness and beauty. 

Holnian Mantes Finding of the Saviour in the Tem^ 
pie. The best representative of the so-called Pre-Raphaelite school of 
artists, having all their merits of faithful intelligent thought and work. 

Mater Dolorosa and Ecce Hom4>9 by Guerctno, a pair of 
large single heads, very strong and striking subjects. 

The Finding of Moses, by Paul Delaroche^ a lovely picture. 
By a curious coincidence the great French painter has given to tha infant 
Moses an unmistakable similarity of expression in brow and eye to the First 
Napoleon in his celebrated picture of *' Napoleon at Fontainebleu." 

The Cherubs. The two cherubs at the foot of the " Sistine Madon- 
na," on a large scale. 

Scheffer^s ^^Christus Consolator/^ here called, " Come unto 
me," a well known and powerful group of human sufferers asking the Saviour 
to relieve them from chains, disease, or sorrow. 

Correggio^s ^* Magdalen, ^^ so called. It may be the Magdalen ; 
but, as one of our customers shrewdly remarked, '^ If she were reformed she 
would have covered herself up." 

RaphaeVs Cartoon^ the familiar scene of the intended sacrifice to 
Paul and Bamabus. 

The Social or Domestic group includes, among others, 

Kept In. A comical old schoolmaster putting on a most fearM fVown 
at a small delinquent. 

Red Riding Hoodm A lovely little girl, one of the sweetest of all 
the pictures. 

Before the Proposal, and After the Proposal, should be 
called '' Flirting Out-Doors and Flirting in the House," very spirited. 

Hunting and Fishing. A similar pair, equally lively. 

A Tempest in the Wash Basin. A fat baby is slopping in the 
water with comical earnestness. 

JBurial of the Bird. Sis children and a dog are escorting to the 
grave the remains of a poor little canary bird. 

Far from Home. German children looking at a little Savoyard boy 
who lies asleep by the side of the road, his head on his marmot's bos. 

The Grandfather. An old man seated in the shade watches the 
fhn and excitement of his grandchilden,'Who are carrying the baby in triumph 
upon a pair of cart-wheeh. 

There is barely room to name the graceful " Aurora," of Hamon ; Faed's 
" Little Wanderer" ; Knaus's wonderfully natural *' Kittens" ; the pleasant 
English landscape, '' Crossing; the Stream," etc. 

B^ Not one person who has seeiT these pictures has failed to like them. 
And, what is the real test ly they like them four dollars* worth. 

Address, F. B. PERlvLNS, Business Agent, 

143 Washington St., Boston, Mass. 



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OLD AND NEW. 

Vol. VIIL — JULY, 1873. — No. i. 



The papers which we publish in this number of " Old and New," 
and t^e plans which it contains of different academies and colleges, 
present, very fairly, the several systems now before intelligent men 
as to the direction of the higher education of the country. It will be 
found, that, because they approach the important subject which they 
consider from quite different points of view, there is hardly one po- 
sition of substantial importance in these high discussions to which 
justice has not been done by one or another of these writers. 

Such discussions, in whatever interest, will gradually compel the 
attention of thoughtful men and women to the necessity of greatly 
enlarging and greatly improving the staff of instruction to which is 
to be intrusted the details of the work which these writers consider. 
This necessity is indeed the fundamental necessity of every plan for 
improvement which will be canvassed in these summer months in 
every trustees' board and in every meeting of eager alumni. At 
the present moment, we are all demanding much more than we can 
ever get from the men and women whom we have set to the work 
in hand. 

The whole discussion of the question of the choice of languages 
in the college cuniculum is a fair illustration of the necessity of 
which we speak. Will you let your undergraduate enter college with- 
out any knowledge of Greek ? Will you accept German as a substi- 
tute, as they have done at Antioch College for many years ? That 
question is one of those discussed in these pages, and which, as these 
months go by, will arouse a great deal of earnest, perhaps some 
heated attention. The puzzled arbiter (if we can suppose there 
were one) before whom such a question should be argued, feeling 
that both disputants are right, may very well be imagined to ask 

1M««< M OOP dlag to A«* or OoogrMi, in Iho 700 IBTS, by ttao Pbopbiitobb or Old aitd Nsw.in tho oOko 
of tho libnuian of OoocioMat Waohlnitlon. 

Vol. VUL— No.1. 1 



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2 Old and New. 

why either language should be excluded. Why is it taken for 
granted that the OLD is to be sacrificed to the NEW ? The answer, 
of course, in familiar conversation, is, that no boy has time for three 
languages beside his own, — for Greek, German, and Latin. It is taken 
for granted that four years, or at the utmost five, are to be spent in 
the high school or other preparatory academy. It is taken for 
granted that a half-way knowledge of Latin and a quarter-way 
knowledge of Greek are all that can be gained in those four or five 
years. To add German, it is supposed, would be absurd. 

So it is absurd, if the school is a school where, on the average, 
thirty pupils are assigned to one teacher, and where that teacher's 
knowledge of Greek and Latin is the average knowledge of our col- 
lege graduate. And if what we are discussing is the question. What 
we can do with these postulates ? it will not be diflScult to show that 
the study of a little German will do as much good as the study of a 
little Greek does. It may also show that it does as little. But the 
discussion has much more worth, if it throws us back on this other 
question, — Whether we« mean to be satisfied with these poor condi- 
tions. 

Any first-rate classical teacher would readily take an average boy 
of fourteen, and undertake to fit him to read all the Latin required 
for his entrance into college in eighteen months, if the boy were his 
only pupil, and if the Latin were the chief work in hand. And no 
good Greek scholar, taking in hand this boy after he was able to 
read Latin into English, or Englisli into Latiii> at sight, would hesitate, 
in twelve months, to teach him the Greek required for entrance into 
our best colleges, if, as before, he were his only pupil. Any such 
teacher, whether of Greek or Latin, would prefer to have the boy 
at the same time learning the amount of mathematics required at the 
best colleges. Two years and a half is ample for the whole affair, if 
you have but one pupil, if you yourself know the two languages thor- 
oughly well, and are completely at ease with the mathematics ; and 
supposing you are a first-rate teacher. 

If, then, we choose to give five years to this process, it is because 
we choose to do it in the cheapest manner instead of the dearest. 
That is the whole of that matter. 

If to such a boy, it were thought desirable to teach German, twelve 
months' additional time would be all that any competent teacher 
would claim to teach him enough of that language for the purposes 
desired, namely, its use in studying history and physical science. 

The common phrase is perfectly true, which says that any lan- 
guage can be learned in a year. 



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Old and New. 3 

Pass by the thirty boys best fitted for Harvard College this summer, 
and, of the rest of the class entering there, there will not be one who 
knows as much of Latin as any intelligent German emigraht on the 
Bowery knows of English after he has been one year in this country, 
if he have fairly tried to learn English. Such a man studies with the 
keenest stimulus, it may be said. This is true enough. But, on the 
other hand, he has passed by that period of childhood or youth when 
the learning of language is the merest trifle, in comparison ; the 
learning of language, in one form or another, being, in fact, precisely 
what childhood and youth are for. 

Just what the first-class teacher we have supposed can do with one 
boy, he can do with two better than one, and with three better^than 
two. Perhaps he can do with four or five pupils as much as with 
two or with one. But, after that number, he is over-weighted, if the 
boy's time is accounted of any value. His personal impulse becomes 
insignificant, and " the book " comes to be relied upon ; which is to 
say, education ends, and mere routine work begins. For the practi- 
cal business of teaching the classics and mathematics no method has 
been hit on more satisfactory than that of the best private tutors in 
the English universities. One of these gentlemen takes, perhaps, four 
pupils. He meets A at nine o'clock. They sit at the same table ; A 
does his work under his teacher's eye ; they study together. The in- 
terest and life of the teacher quicken the pupil. The teacher shows 
the pupil the best ways of study. At ten o'clock he gives A his di- 
rections for his private study, and meets B alone for an hour, as he 
has met A. At eleven ^'clock he meets C. At twelve o'clock he 
meets D. ' And at some other hour in the day he meets them all ; and 
they all work together for an hour. The teacher is thus able to con- 
sider the personal need of the pupil, and to give him the full advan- 
tage of such consideration. The pupU is able to ask the teacher just 
what he wants, and to show him just what are his difficulties. At 
the same time, all the pupils meet each other in study and recitation^ 
compare notes, and go forward with the stimulus and sympathy of 
companionship. 

Now, we venture to say that the first of the academies or high 
schools of this country which will adopt some such course as this, 
giving to every four boys whom it fits for college one teacher of the 
first and best abiUty, whose chief duty it shall be to see that they go 
through their last two years of preparation thoroughly well, will be 
the school or academy, which will, at whatever charge, receive the 
best and most promising pupils, and will receive the largest number 



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4 OH and New. 

of them. With a certain steady demand for superficial and almost 
worthless education, there is another demand for education of the 
very best type, the results of which may be relied upon. With the 
increase of the country in wealth, there grows up the determination 
to have that done in the best way which is done at all. And in pro- 
portion as the young men and young women learn that there are 
ways in which that can be done in two years which they now do in 
four years, they, and those who direct their education, will certainly 
insist upon the change. 

Such a change will call to the front the people who know Greek 
and Latin, to act as teachers, in place of mere smatterers, who know 
a little of the vocabulary of both languages, and are a little in advance 
of their pupils in the sublime art of guessing out the meaning of a pavS- 
sage. It is a pleasure to see how the number of accomplished classi- 
cat teachers advances. The associations and conventions which bring 
them together display, with every year, better and better apprehen- 
' sion of the work which they have in hand and of ihe great lan- 
guages of which they have to interpret the literature and the meth- 
ods. There is no danger but that such teachers will show themselves 
in numbers sufl&cient for the duty in hand the moment the country 
chooses to make the demand. 

The history of education in this country presents enough instances 
of the triumph of first-class arrangements, even when made at con- 
siderable expense to the pupil, to encourage and justify new effort 
in such directions. There is, of course, a tendency to offer at the 
very lowest charges the priceless advantages of classical culture. 
But the pupils are very watchful. The changing registers of the 
Western colleges show that the tide of favor which fills one college 
one year sets in on another the next, just as the scholars find out 
that one or the other does, or does not, give what is proposed. And 
when, in contrast with the cheap work of superficial men and wo- 
men struggling with large classes, and permitting text-books to teach 
that of which they are themselves ignorant, one looks back on such 
schools as Dr. Cogswell's at Round Hill, and Mr. Weld's at Eagle- 
wood, it is to be re-assured as to the possibility of bringing good 
work to bear in the best way upon the pupils. Those schools live 
now only in the noble work of men whom they trained. But those 
men stand ready, many of them in some of the most prominent 
positions of the country, to join in an appeal for the most thorough, 
even if it be the more costly, system of education. Cost is not 
always the first question in the matter of education. It has too often 



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Old and New. 5 

been made the first question, and that to the detriment of the com* 
munity ; as in the case of the State of Connecticut, whose famous 
well-meant blunder of a school-fund had the sole ^erit of making 
schooling cheap. The result was, that, since the public money would 
pay for some schooling, the community, with moral indolence, gravi- 
tated towards the practice of not taxing itself for any additional 
schooling ; and, for half a century, that ancient State steadily fell 
behind its more fortunate neighboi's, who were forced to pay for all 
the schooling they got. At present, the error is in process of repara- 
tion. The dividends from the fund depend upon the liberality with 
which the towns tax themselves ; and this simple rule has turned the 
fund from a narcotic into a stimulus. 

Other things being equal, — not necessarily otherwise, — that edu- 
cation is no doubt best which costs least. In a counti'y like ours, 
where capital is dear, this cheapness per head per annum is an espe- 
cially weighty argument for the masses of the people. It becomes 
still more weighty when thi& cost is an argument to be used by polit- 
ical outs and political ins against each other ; so that cheapness 
must continue a leading consideration in our common-school systems. 

But the case is different with the somewhat numerous, and in some 
respects very unfortunate, class who would — or at least could, if they 
would — gain most by the expensive thorough culture in question. 
These poor people are the rich, — a class more neglected in education 
in this country than in almost any other. Hereditary wealth can 
hardly be said to exist in America, for the reason that wealth is so 
commonly acquired by ill-educated people, who, because ill educated, 
do not know that their children need a special preparation in order 
to be rich well. They themselves had it : it consisted in the hard 
labor, and grim self-denial, and intense will, which they put forth in 
acquiring it. This their children have not. But something equiva- 
lent to it they must have, or else their money will destroy them. 
What equivalent can there be ? None, unless it is a training more 
thorough, more elevating, more tonic, than that of the poor, jiist in 
proportion as their social circumstances are a drag and a relaxation 
to the nobler human qualities. That the possession of wealth im- 
poses responsibility (richcBse oblige)^ that it should occasion self- 
distrust and hiunility, at least as much as conceit and pride, and 
other like threadbare nforal lessons, are in every reader's mind ; and 
he wishes he was in the very middle of the diflSculty. 

Such trite preachment^ we naturally avoid ; but no other single mea- 
sure of an educational kind would do more to imbue our whole Ameri- 



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6 Old and Nm, 

can social fabric with the fineness of finish and aesthetic attractions 
which would so gracefully complete its strength and vigorous move- 
ment, than this one measure of organizing schook ideally thorough in 
aim and method : " Schools for the Elevation of the Helpless Rich," 
you may call them, if^you want to, or " Institutions for Preventing the 
Rachitis of the Soul." 

It would take years before any results would appear ? Yes : it 
takes thirty to make a strong man of that age out of a baby. ' Why 
should we expect a nation to improve faster than an individual? 
And yet to admit that any given reform must have thirty years in 
which to prove its usefulness would kill the enterprise before any 
popular assembly, and would greatly damp even the most spiritual 
of the enthusiasms of the " May meetings." But (for instance) if 
the evils 'of our defunct social system of slavery and of its destruc- 
tion shall have been radically cured by A.D. 1903, it will be wonder- 
fully quick, and notwithstanding the tone of public opinion in the 
country is unquestionably a tone of unconscious dissatisfaction that 
things have not gone better south of Mason and Dixon's line, they 
have improved surprisingly fast too. 

In like manner, the establishment of even a hundred such schools 
as these paragraphs call for would hardly yield visible fruits for a 
quarter of a century. Suppose the students for them are now (1873) 
fifteen, that they are under education for ten years (1883), that 
they then enter into active life ; it will require another ten years 
(1893) before their influence will perceptibly tinge America. It 
takes a great deal and a long while to effect even a homoeopathic 
modification of our forty-million mass of humanity. But we need it, 
for aU that ; and, in one form or another, we shall have it. 



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My Time, and What Pve Done with M. 



MY TIME, AND WHAT PVE DONE WITH IT. 



BY P. C. BURNAND. 



CHAPTER Xin. 



KB. COMBEBWOOD ENTERS. — SUN- 
DAY AT RINGHURST. 

Hft was an enormous man everyway, 

— over six feet, and stout out of all 
proportion. The dog-cart horse spe- 
cially purchased for this work could 
do nothing more in a day than take 
his master to and from the station. In 
London all omnibuses were closed 

.against him at the price ; and cabmen 
suddenly became singularly short- 
sighted when hailed by Mr. Comber- 
wood on the pavement. Once he was 
in the same situation as the famous 
Irishman, who, being taken in a 
sedan-chair whereof the bottom was 
out, remarked, that, " but for the look 
of the thing, he'd'as lief have walked ; " 
that is, Mr. Comberwood's legs ap- 
peared as auxiliaries to the wheels, 

— fortunately without accident, and 
without either a summons or an action. 
You can't expect an ordinary vehicle, 
intended for ordinary persons, to carry 
an elephant ; and an ordinary driver, 
obliged to take up a fare, whatever 
his size, can't bring an action against 
his customer for exceeding a certain 
weight. 

Mr. Comberwood's practice was 
therefore chiefly in .chambers, where 
Mahomet came to the mountain ; the 
mountain being a necessity to Mahomet 
as a client. 

He had a bald head, bordered from 
temple to temple with hair as evenly 
and exactly as if he had been measured 
for it by a village barber with an 
inverted wooden basin ; and this hair 
was as curly and neutral-tinted as the 
Astrachan trimming on a lady's jacket. 
He spoke quickly, and repeated his 



sentences, in part or wholly, as might 
be necessary. His countenance was 
capable of three expressions, and three 
only. The first was humorous, the 
second irritable, and the third blank 
incapacity. He appeared at h is largest 
when wearing the last expression : it 
was the one that came naturally to him 
after dinner, when he spread himself 
out over a stalwart arm-chair, and 
stared at the fire, which must have 
seemed to him like the glow of the 
setting sun illuminating the outline of 
his waistcoat's horizon. The first and 
second expressions merged into one 
another. When humorous, he became 
suddenly irritable, and, when irritable, 
he became suddenly humorous. Also, 
if his wife was inclined to be irritable, 
he became immediately humorous. 
She herself had no humor, nor ap- 
preciation of it. 

He kissed Mrs. Comberwood and 
Alice (which I did not like), and told 
the boys to help him off with his great- 
coat. It was a great-coat with a ven- 
geance. Judiciously parcelled out, it 
would have clothed a deserving fam- 
ily of eight. 

He was very glad to see me. 

" HaUoo I " he said. " Master Colvin 
— hey ? What's your name ? whaf s 
your name — hey ? " 

This was said so fiEtst as to be almost 
unintelligible to me. I paused and 
smiled. I did»not like to ask what he 
had said. He did not, however, give 
me time to think over it, as he went 
on hurriedly, wearing his humorous 
expression, — 

" Not got a name — hey ? No god- 
fathers and godmothers 7- hey ? What 
did your godfathers and godmothers 
do for you — hey ? " 



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My Timey and What Pve Dime with B. 



" Papa ! " said Alice reproachfully. 

" They gave him a name — hey ? " 

" Cecil, sir." 

« Cecil — hey —Cecil ? Here, Dick, 
take that fish to the cook: don't 
tamble down with it now — hey ? Do 
you hear ? " 

" Yes, papa.'' 

" Now, then," he went on, ** hands 
washing — ' what no soap, so he died ' 
— hey ? " To me : " Did you ever 
hear that story. Master Cecil ? ' No 
soap she bear, and the Great Panjan- 
drum with the little round button at 
the top '—hey?" 

I had not, and hoped he would tell me. 

Mrs. Comberwood now thought it 
time to interfere. 

" Dinner is already very late," she 
said with the precise certainty of a 
person who kn6ws what o'clock it is 
to a minutd : " so I do beg you will get 
ready at once, Stephen." 

We passed that evening, a very 
short one, with the weight of the com- 
ing Sunday morning on us. This 
was to be tlie first Sunday I had ever 
spent away from home in the holidays. 
Miss Alice was generally for straying 
into theological discussion, while Aus- 
tin readj and Dick taught me the game 
of fox-and-geeso with draughts. Mr. 
and Mrs. Comberwood talked about 
the people who were coming, and who 
were not, to their party. Alice joined 
them in this ; and my attention was 
drawn towards them twice by the 
mention of Herbert Pritchard and 
Mr. Cavander. 

"How's Uncle Herbert — hey ?" 
asked Mr. Comberwood. " You didn't 
know he'd be here. Yes, come to 
look after you, and give a good report 
to your father — hey ? What a good 
boy am I — Homer in the comer — 
hey?" 

Then he resumed his part in the 
conversation. On Sunday rooming 



he read family prayers. Kneeling 
was out of the question with him. 
He did it vicariously, through AlicOr 
who was devotional enough for the 
whole party, enjoying it so evidently, 
that, not being accustomed to outward 
piety, and knowing nothing at all of 
inward, I wondered mightily. 

Dttting the morning all mention of 
the coming theatricals and party wai* 
banished. Mr. Comberwood did ample 
justice to the breakfast in the true 
spirit of a holiday-maker who has the 
entire day before him. On week-days 
he scarcely knew what breakfiut 
meant: it was a hinderance, whicH 
very often had nearly caused the loss 
of his train ; but on Sundays this 
and luncheon were novelties to be 
thoroughly enjoyed. 

We did every thing to the sound of 
the bell, so much so, that I soon began 
to derive the name of the place from 
this practice. A bc^ll'got the servants 
out of bed, and us out of our sleep. 
Bell number two ordered them to 
breakfast. The third bell was to 
inform us that they rould not go on 
any longer alone ; and " their bet- 
ters" must get up and help them. 
The fourth bell invited us to breakfast : 
this was an economical bell, and did 
duty for prayers too. Then came the 
church-bells, running afterone another 
merrily ever so many times, then tak- 
ing breath, then coming out at in- 
tervals in pairs, then the laggard by 
himself was peremptorily stopped by 
the church-clock striking the hour. 
Then, on our return, there was bell 
number five for us to prepare, so that 
the announcement which would have 
to be presently made should not take 
us by surprise; then number six, 
which let out the secret of luncheon ; 
and number seven to summon the 
servants to dinner in the servants' 
hall. Tea had another bell, being the 



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» 



eighth. The ceremony of dressing 
for dinner was celebrated with a good 
rattling fantasia, number nine, on the 
bell. Dinner itself was the occasion 
for the tenth, the servants' sapper for 
the eleventh, and evening family 
prayers the twelfth. 

We walked to church slowly and 
comfortably. Alice had plenty of 
questions to ask poor old women, 
tottering old men in slate-colored 
smocks, and shy children. 

The church at Whiteboys was the 
first village church I had seen ; that is 
I mean with a purely village congrega- 
tion. It had its Christmas decorations, 
chiefly done by Alice Comberwood. 
It was an old Norman churcli, and 
one of the few objects of interest in 
the neighborhood. ' It had been 
patched up and restored ; and its mas- 
sive pillars were half hidden by the 
high pewg. The pews indeed were so 
high, that, bad a stranger suddenly 
entered during the lessons or the ser- 
mon, he would have thought he had 
come upon a clergyman rehearsing his 
part in an empty church. Looked at 
in perspective and on a level, the tops 
of the pews seamed like a sea of fixed 
waves, between each of which, when 
the heads ^popped up, you suddenly 
beheld the bathers. 

This description could not, of course, 
apply to Mr. Comberwood ; and apropos 
it now occurs to me what a magnificent 
Suisse he would have made in a French 
church. I could not help remarking 
Mr. Comberwood during service. He 
was short-sighted, and took a long 
time to find and fix his eye-glasses. 
He geherally got hold of the wrong 
pMilm, when he made the responses 
in a rather husky but very audible 
voice, and so quickly, that he had 
finished his verse before the rest of 
the congregation had got half way 
through theirs ; when, having done his 



part^ he would look round from under 
his glasses (he always viewed every 
thing 6om a peint either above or 
below his eye-glasses, never straight 
through them) as though inquiring 
irritably, " Why the deuse don't you 
get on — hey ? " When his wife or 
Miss Alice would point out his mis- 
take to him in a whisper, he replied 
aloud^ " Hey — what ? " Having as- 
certained the nature of their commu- 
nication, his legal training rendered 
it compulsory on him to verify their 
assertions by reference to the calendar \ 
when, having arrived at a right and 
proper conclusion, and found the cor- 
rect psalm, he had to wait som^ 
seconds in order to adjust, as it were, 
his ears to the new sounds, and test 
the accuracy of the congregation's 
responses by the text' of the prayer- 
book. When the hymn time came^ 
he put his whole voice into it, and shot 
ahead of organ, choir, and every body^ 
until the antagonism got so fierce as 
to threaten the peace of the worship- 
pers. He led them whether they 
would or not ; that is to say, he was 
first, the organ a good second, and the 
people last, following 8ulkil3\ When, 
on coming out of church, he observed, 
"That was a beautiful hymn to-day 
— hey ? very fine hymn — hey ? " 
you might be certain that he had had 
quite a field-day of it, all to himself 
Occasionally the choir skipped, by 
arrangement, verse number three, — an 
omission of which Mr. Comberwood 
took no notice, singing it right through 
without faltering, and commencing 
verse number four just as the cler- 
gyman was commencing his short 
pre-preachiug prayer, and the con- 
gregation were settling into various 
praying attitudes, of which the one 
considered most reverential at White- 
boys was a compromise between kneel- 
ing and sitting, which was neither 



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10 



My Time^ and What I've Dme tvUh M. 



one nor the other, and very little of 
either. , 

Alice kntlt. She had a heautiful 
book in Gothic binding, the printing 
being in red and black. She was 
enthusiastic at lunch time about her 
pupils for the choir of boys which she 
had begun to train, and spoke with 
deep regret of the sentiments and 
opinions of the parish clergyman, 
who, she said, was fast asleep, and 
wanted waking. 

In the evening we had sacred music; 
when Alice sang sweetly, and I was 
enraptured. Bedtime was at an early 
hour ; and, when I had tucked myself 
careftdly up for the night, Mrs. Com- 
berwood entered, and, bending over 
me, said, "Good-night, Master Cecil. 
You have no mother, pcor boy ! You 
•*hall be one of iny boys. Good-night. 
God bless you ! " Wherewith she 
pressed her lips on my forehead with 
another loving motherly kiss ; and I 
have seldom fallen asleep as happily 
and in such sweet peacefulness as on 
that first Sunday night at Einghurst 
Whiteboys. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

MONDAY* AT RINOHUBST. — THE SIS- 
TERS. — LIKES AND DISLIKES. — AN 
UNWELCOME GUEST WELCOMED. 

Mr. Comberwood went up to town 
on Monday morning early. He break- 
fasted hurriedly, keeping his eye on 
the clock and his watch, as though sus- 
picious of some collusion between these 
two to prevent hi^ catching the train. 
The dining-room clock was two minutes 
in advance of his watch, corroborating 
the latter's evidence, and volunteering 
additional statements. Then every 
thing necessary for his departure, al- 
though displayed in perfect order 
under his very eye, on the hall table, 
had to be requisitioned hastily. 



" Where's my coat — hey — my 
coat ? Now, then, Dick." 

"Yes, papa." 

"Ah!" Here the butler assisted 
him on with his overcoat. "Now, 
let me see — whereas my umbrella? 
Can't go without my umbrella." Um- 
brella produced. " Ah ! gloves — 
hey — no gloves ? Alice, where " — 
Gloves shown to be waiting for 
him. " Ah ! now then — there — 
there — hey ? " (This to me, with a 
humorous expression.) " Nothing you 
want me to do in town ? No " (this 
to his wife), "very well — I shall 
hear about the professional person you 
know — all right ! " Then, with a 
vast amount of puffing, he hoisted 
himself on to the driving-box of the 
dog-cart, adjusted the reins, called 
out to the groom, " Rough shod, no 
stumbling — hey ? " to which the 
man replied that it was a thaw, the 
snow lying only in long strips about 
the country, as if rows of white linen 
had been left out to dry on the ground. 
Then on Mr. Comberwood crying out, 
"Let her go! ky up!" the groom 
released the horse's head, dashed after 
the trap, clambered up and took his 
seat behind in all the stem composure 
of folded arms, the evident^ represen- 
tative of ignorant prejudice turning 
its back on progress, with which it 
is compelled to be carried in spite of 
itself, and looking only to the tradi- 
tions of the past. 

The performance^ at Binghurst had 
been long ago prc^jected by Alice 
Comberwood for the stirring-up of the 
neighbors generally. 

"No one ever does any thing here," 
she said in the course of the morning, 
complain ingly, to Mrs. McCracken, 
her elder sister, tvho had come to stay 
over the festivities. 

" You're better oflf for amusement 
than we are, though, Ally/' replied 



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11 



her sister, who was providently knit- 
ting worsted stockings. 

Miss Comberwood had married a 
Norfolk clergyman with, it was said, 
"prospects." In a certain sense this 
was decidedly true. There was al- 
ready a family of three. " Prospects " 
unqualified by any .sort of adjective 
command a wide range. To make up 
for the omission of an adjective, old 
ladies talked of Mr. McCracken's pros- 
pects with pursed-up lips and gradu- 
ated nods, who^e movement, begin- 
ning briskly, died away imperceptibly, 
like those of the China mandarin's 
head in ^ grocer's, which are becoming 
18 rare as politeness. 

Mr. McCracken's prospects consist- 
ed, in reality, of little more thaniwhat 
he surveyed from his kitchen-window 
in the rear, and from his drawing-room 
in front. How poor country clergymen 
manage, not only to exist respectably 
on two hundred and fifty per annum, 
hut to send sons to the university, 
was, at one time, as great a problem 
to me as ever it must have been to 
them. But when I met the sons; 
when I knew what they had learnt at 
h«me, what they could turn their heads 
and hands to, and how (what with 
Bcholarships and odd prizes such as, 
hidden away from sight in dusty old 
collegiate comers, do exist for the 
benefit of honest lads like these) 
they contrived to lighten their father's 
harden while improving their own 
position, — then I understood it all ; 
and, if ever I require a couple of heroes 
for an epic, I know where to find my 
models. Much to the disappointment 
of my friends, I take this opportunity 
of stating that I have no intention 
whatever of writing an epic. 

And the only use of the above dis- 
quisition is to present you with a fair 
estimate of Mr. McCracken's pros- 
pects, which had not improved since 



his marriage, and were not regarded 
in a hopeful light, privately, by Mrs. 
McCracken, who, however, was as 
blithe, cheerful, and contented as, I 
believe, she would have been with 
half the sum, or double. 

" Ah," said Alice, " you don't care 
about amusement. You've got your 
own at home." 

Mrs. McCracken smiled, paused, 
looked at the fireplace with the air 
of having forgotten something, and 
resumed her knitting. Then she ob- 
served, — 

"I don't care for theatricals, if 
that's what you mean. Ally. You 
know I never did." 

"I know you were always Little 
Mother, weren't you, Nellie ? — always 
staid and quiet, and ever so many 
years older than you really are." 

" Nellie has a good deal to occupy 
her time," said Mrs. Comberwood, 
who was rather reserved in evincing 
her own admiration for her second 
daughter. She was afraid of her. 

" Yes, of course she has. She was 
cut out for a clergyman's wife." Then 
she added, as if fearful of having said 
something unkind, "Dear Andrew! 
Fm sure there's not a better brother- 
in-law in the world.", 
" Nor husband," said Nellie sedately. 

" Yet I do think," cried Alice im- 
pulsively, " that clergymen ought not 
to marry." 

" My dear Alice ! " exclaimed Mrs. 
Comberwood, who had caught a whis- 
per of this before among the " new- 
fangled notions." 

<* Then all the young curates would 
be licensed to fiirt on the premises. 
Very dangerous ! " laughed the elder 
sister, speaking as one, who, from her 
experience, could afford to ridicule such 
a notion. In her old-fisishioned and 
well-regulated ideas, a clergyman was 
necessarily a marrying man. If it 



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Timej and What Fve Dane with M. 



was not good for man of the laity to be 
alone, much less was it for man of the 
clergy. 

Alice saw i^atters in a very differ- 
ent light, and was in a heat directly. 

" I don't see why they should flirt." 

" It is their nature to," said Mrs. 
McCracken still laughing. 

"Nature, dear! There is some- 
thing more than nature required for 
a clergyman," replied Alice, warming 
with her subject. 

"Something more than nature? 
WeU, good-nature, I suppose." 

Alice did not approve of this levity 
on so serious a subject, or rather on 
a subject which she had chosen to 
make so sacred. Yet she had given 
herself a mission, which was to con- 
vert her family from their own views 
to hers. The service at Andrew 
McCracken's church was as unpalata- 
ble to Alice as the informalities of a 
meeting-house ; and she thought, that 
could she influence Andrew in the 
direction of ornate devotions, and just 
a trifle more surplice and stole to begin 
with, what a great thing it would be 
for — for what ? Well, she would not 
hesitate to reply, " For thie future of 
Anglicanism." This I heard her say 
to Austin, who seemed to ponder her 
words as he caressed his favorite sister. 

They dearly loved each other. 
Austin was two years her junior ; yet 
his ^ave countenance and generally 
delicate appearance gave him an air 
of seniority, which was much increased 
by his calm demeanor and thought- 
ful way of speaking. He was a bom 
student. Alice sipped books ; Austin 
drank them to the dregs. Alice was 
easily daunted by uncut leaves; Austin 
&cod them, knife in hand, and con- 
quered. Alice peeped at the last page 
of a novel to see how it ended ; then 
she skipped all the descriptions, and 
alighted only on points of dialogue 



or action. Her bent was dramatic. 
Austin trudged through the book- 
country bravely, taking it as it came 
— heavy plough, marsh, shady lane, 
or hard, open road. He paused to 
admire, or to reckon up matters be- 
tween reader and author. He missed 
nothing; and, having once read any 
passage of more than ordinary merits 
he remembered it, sometimes literally, 
but always its proper sense. I have 
already said how he told me most of 
the Waverley novels. It is a great 
tribute to the skill he brought to this 
kindly, self-imposed task, to record, 
that, when I came to read " Ivanlioe," 
" Guy Mannering," and the " Talis- 
man," I was, in a manner, disappoint- 
ed. Justin's voice was wanting; and 
he had made reading a trouble to me. 
It had been so delightful to lie in bed, 
gradually sinking to rest, to the deli- 
cious music of romance and chivalry ! 

Austin had now joined them, having 
entered the dining-room in search of 
me ; and the conversation took a new 
turn. 

"Alice." 

"Well, Austy." 

"The carpenter is here about the 
arrangements for the stage in the 
drawing-room. You understand these 
matters better than I: will you see 
him?" 

" Yes, at once." 

"Does Mr. Cavander come home 
to-day ? " asked Austin of his mother, 
as Alice was leaving the room. She 
stopped at the door. I was naturally 
interested in the reply, and looked 
from Alice to Mrs. Comberwood, and 
then back again. 

"Yes. He will come down with 
your father this, afternoon." 

" I know some one who'll be delight- 
ed to see him," observed Mrs. Mc- 
Cracken slyly. 

Alice blushed. At that minute I 



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knew some one wha would not be 
delighted to see him. That some one 
wae myself. 

Alice, mind, was just on eighteen ; I 
wfts thirteen and a half. Mr. Caran- 
der's youth or age was of no conse- 
quence to me : I was jealous of him. 
I disliked him already : now I could 
have challenged him with the greatest 
possible pleasure, and should have dis- 
posed of him with rapture. 

I think I must have blushed deeply 
on this occasion, as Mrs. Comberwood 
and Mrs. McOracken both laughed. 

**Well," said Alice, still at the door,, 
as if the subject had so great an 
attraction for her that she must speak 
on it, "I do like him. He's very 
clever : isn't he, Austy ? " 

Austin smiled. He only asked if 
Mr. Tavander was going to take a 
part. 

"No," said Alice : " that'.s the worst 
of it. He's comirg to be among the 
audience. I loiow," she added in 
despairing accents, *^ I shall never be 
able to do any thing before him." 

Oh ! I could have demolished him 
there and then. Afraid of him! 
Whatever his cleverness, I despised 
him. I rather fancy I expressed 
myself so strongly to this effect, as to 
cause them all, including Alice, con- 
siderable amusement. 

I wished at that moment that the 
drama could have been ^* Blue Beard," 
with Cavander as the celebrated poly- 
gamist, Alice for Fatima, and myself 
as Selini. to rush in just as his cimiter 
was coming down, and — whish — run 
him through the body. The theatricals 
with which I would have amused the 
company should have been the kind 
of entertainment that upset the Danish 
court, and made the wicked king go 
supperless to bed. 

The preparations occupied Alice and 
her brother Dick the greater part of 



the morning ; and at luncheon Gayan- 
der was again mentioned.* 

"He's rather like a Jew," said 
young Dick boldly. 

"Have you ever seen a Jew?" 
asked Alice, coloring. 

" Yes, at school, — a chap very like 
Cavander " — 

" Mister Cavander," interposed his 
mother, correcting him. 

"They do not learn manners at 
school," said Alice. 

"And they don't teach 'em at 
home," retorted Dick, who had a hot 
temper. 

" Hush, Dick ! " said Austin ^ve- 

" Oh, humbug ! " cried Dick, who 
had somehow got thoroughly out of 
temper with everybody. " Cavander's 
a fool, and Alice makes such a fiiss 
about him ! " 

I could have embraced him. 

He went on : — 

" Yes, you do, Alice ; and you look 
at him when you're talking as if you 
wanted to know whether you're saying 
your lesson right; and, when he's 
here, you never come with us, and " — 

He couldn't fire off his revolver 
quick enough; but before he was 
stopped, — as he was with spirit by 
Alice, who was immediately backed 
by her mother's authority, — I think 
one bullet had certainly gone straight 
home. In a half apologetic, half 
sulky tone, Dick continued, giving a 
last shot as he retired : — 

" Well, you know you do. You're 
always talking with him about 
churches, and that sort of thing." 

Alice brightened up ; and the two 
other ladies smiled. The absurdity 
of Alice's attempting such a conver- 
sion as Mr. Cavander's had often, ere 
now, been a subject for their quiet 
merriment. 

" It's a fan<7 she has at present," 



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was Mirs. Comberwood's opijiioD : 
" slie'll give itT up as she gets older." 

In the afternoon, Alice and Dick 
went out riding. I was offered a pony, 
but did not feel quite certain of my 
capabilities, although I should have 
liked to have accompanied Alice. 

Later on, Mr. Oomberwood arrived, 
bringing down a heap of packages 
from town, and appearing, as Mr. 
Verney might have described him, 
"in his character of Izaak Walton, 
on the threshold of the honest ale- 
house, where he was welcomed by the 
buxom hostess ; " that is, with the 
usual basket of fish. Having seen 
his parcels all deposited, and kissed 
his wife, he said briefly, " Here's 
Cavander," rather as if he had count- 
ed him among the packages, and after 
the turbot. 

"Any one else?" inquired Mrs. 
Comberwood, after welcoming her 
visitor. 

"Let me see — let me see," said 
Mr. Comberwood, fumbling about in 
all his pockets, one after the other, as 
though he had mislaid a friend or two 
in an odd* corner. "No, not to-day 
— not to-day." 

' He chorussed his last words in his 
fussy way, walking about, and sniff- 
ing suspiciously in a fee-fo-fum and 
ogreish fashion, and then stopped to 
stare at me, with an expression of 
comic surprise at seeing me before 
him on that particular occasion. 

" I've seen your Uncle Van to-day 
— Iiey? Yes" — 

"Any message for me, sir?" I 
asked with an air of importance. 

"Yes — of course — he said bad 
boy — whip him — hey ? " Then he 
followed his wife into the library. 

While we were all here, Alice 
returned. 

She came in from her ride the very 
picture of full bloom. The sweet 



scent of the fresh country air . was 
upon her ; its fragrance about her. 
As she walked into the study amongst 
the old musty books, it was like letting 
the bright light of a May morning in 
upon a closely curtained chamber. 

"Miss Alice, how well you are 
looking ! " said Cavander, advancing 
to take her hand in evident admira- 
tion. 

Ah ! she had not seen him at first : 
"It was so dark," she said, *' coming 
out of the open air." 

" Shall we return to it, if you are 
not fatigued with your ride?" he 
asked ; and his voice was so sweetly- 
modulated, and yet so strangely to 
my ears, that it was like the effect of 
a commonplace tune set by a 'skilled 
musician to the most perfect har- 
monies. 

" Yes, I am a little tired," returned 
Alice. " Come and see Bess before 
they put her into her stall. She was 
a favorite of yours, you remember. 
She's so much improved, you wouldn't 
know her again." 

"That's unkind. Miss Alice. I'm 
not a George the Fourth. I never 
forget a favorite." 

So chatting, they left the room. He 
had taken no notice of me, beyond 
saying, "Ah, you again ! " when he 
first entered. 

Cavander classed boys with toy- 
dogs, — expensive, useless, stupid, 
dirty, and always in the way. 

Master Dick's behavior towards 
him was consistently sulky ; and to my 
mind Cavander was less of a Dr. 
Fell than heretofore, as now I had 
positive and clear reason for disliking 
him. 

Had I been asked what harm could 
possibly come from Alice's partiality 
for Mr. Cavander, and his liking -for 
her, of course I should have been 
utterly at a loss for an answer. I 



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was in a minority, witiiout even the 
shadow of a right to an objection. 
Dick was with me to a certain extent. 
Austin tolerated him on his sister's 
account, and committed himself to no 
opinion on Cavander, except as to his 
cleverness, which he admitted. Indeed, 
with Alice, ho was fond of listening 
to him talking on most subjects. The 
family generally appeared to be proud 
of their visitor. I was ignorant of 
evil ; but I was jealous. Being jealous, 
I was suspicious of there being a great 
deal more than met the eye ; but, as 
to the nature and extent of what I 
feared, I was totally in the dark. 

Ignorance is the best soil for suspi- 
cion ; and therefore mine flourished 
prodigiously. 

CHAPTER XV. 

BINGHURST.— PROSPECTIVE ARRANGE- 
MENTS. — FIRESIDE FANCIES. AR- 
RIVALS. — A FULL HOUSE. -^ I AM 
STARTLED. — THE RESULT OF UN- 
CLE van's DILEMMA. 

The piece to be played by our elders 
in the Ringhurst \Vhiteboys' back 
drawing-room was ;i French proverbe, 
with which a gratc/jJ English public 
had already been uui l- acquainted by 
the help of a kunl v version rendered 
into language .mlcrstanded of the 
people. Alic ' li::«l read this aloud one 
evening to hcv parents, and had sug- 
gested " getting it up." So it was got 
up ; and to avert hostile criticism, and 
to keep the evening's entertainment to 
its original domestic character^ Alice 
arrangetl a little afterpiece, as already 
described, wherein, however, her broth- 
ers would not play unless she joined 
them as authoress and actress. So 
she consented, and stooped to the pyg- 
mies in order to disarm the giants. 
H^r appearance in "Naughty Little 
Blue Beard " seemed to introduce the 



reality of children's make-believesj, 
and the freshness of innocence, among 
such otherwise overpowering vanities 
as were those ot costuming, painting, 
and directing and ordering at rehears- 
als. 

And what, to all well-regulated 
minds, let me ask, is the attraction to 
us seniors (we do not go to the back 
of the box always ; or, if we do, we 
push ourselves forward into priority 
when we think there's something we 
haven't seen, though we know we 
shall pooh-pooh it afterwards) — what, 
I ask, is the attraction to us, at Christ- 
mas-time, in the heated, noisy theatre, 
if it is not the sunny smiles of the 
children making the gaslight garish ? 
To see them all in a row, gloves, 
oranges, and play-bills, — a ripple of 
laughing waters, — it does your heart 
good, and warms you towards the 
oldest jokes, clumsiest tricks, and 
stalest stage devices. But understand 
me : even in this retrospect I say dis- 
tinctly to see them, not to bring them, 
I ^once unbosomed myself sweetly on 
this subject at a table, where, it being 
Christmas-tide, the hospitality was 
profuse, and there were olives to the 
wine, and olive-branches round about ; 
and the good hostess exclaimed, " You 
love children \ Ah ! " Here she turned 
up her eyes, and thanked heaven 
for a man, and not a brute. " I will 
give you a treat. Will you come to 
the pantomime with us to-morrow 
week ? " I was ravished, I was 
enchanted, I would look forward to it 
with rapture. The day came : so 
did the evening. Dinner was provided 
at five, that we might be in time. 
In time for what ? For the first piece 
before the pantomime, which is, I am 
aware, played by the most patient and 
energetic artists, amid howls and exe- 
crations from the upper and upper- 
most galleries. It was a tea dinner 



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My Time, and What Fve Done ivith B. 



too, such as I have already described 
as having fallen to the lot of Uncle 
Van. In fact, it was not a dinner at 
all, considering what I had had at that 
house. Papa was obliged, he artfully 
said, to leave us on business, but would 
join us at the theatre. The sneak ! 
He deserved his amiable wife's cutting 
sarcasm, wherein she drew the happy 
comparison between the bachelor who 
doated on children (me) and the 
husband who avoided them (him). 
But oh the miseries ! I had to sit on 
the box of the fly. I had to hold 
every thing, argue with everybody, 
pay anybody who preferred a claim. 
Finally, I was put right at the back of 
the private box, where I leaned my 
head against the side, like a disjointed 
Punch-doll, in the vain attempt to 
catch even a glimpse of a dragon's 
tail. The next day I had a cold and 
a stiff neck. But, even on this purga- 
torial occasion, their infantine hilarity 
came to me like a message from 
heaven ; for assuredly it told me of 
good things going on in an nnseen 
world (I have said the sta ^ was 
invisible to me on account of m- posi- . 
tion), concerning which I could only 
guess or take their statements. 

The announcement, then, that the 
lesser Comber woods were going to 
play a little piece written by their 
elder sister, drew (so to speak) a house ; 
and many wrote for permission to 
bring friends, — a free-and-easy way 
of increasing a party to any extent, 
much practised both in town and 
country, and often taken as the dis- 
charge of an obligation. In this 
sense, as asking costs nothing, except, 
perhaps, the trouble of polishing up a 
certiain amount of brass, the practice 
is valuable, on economical grounds. 

The party had grown into something 
like the proportions of a county ball, 
and had begun to frighten Mrs. Gom- 



berwood. At this time, Mrs. Mc- 
Cracken was most serviceable to her, 
and undertook the general direction. 
As for Oomberwood, he, for his part, 
would have had all England invited, 
and would have "taxed the costs" 
severely afterwards. 

The county people liked the owner 
of Iwinghurst, and were inclined to be 
gathered together round his board as 
often as he liked to invite them. There 
was a jovial geniality and warmth 
about him, which was as attractive as 
sealing-wax after friction. When they 
entered Ringhurst, they felt, instinc- 
tively, that there was a round of 
beef, and a chine, and a pasty, and a 
Tudoric flagon, in the refectory ; that, 
in short, they had not been asked 
merely to heat tlio house with their 
breath, and save the fuel. 

No, Mr. Oomberwood blazed out on 
his guests, and welcomed all without 
distinction. He had secret comers, 
though, for choice spirits who cared 
for oysters and stout (from London) 
in preference to all the champagne and 
chicken you could give them : and he 
knew, too, having concocted them him- 
self, which were tlie cups to make you 
wink and gasp, but clutch the handle 
all the more firmly for such expres- 
sions of emotion ; and these cups he 
would recommend to his gossips. 

However, much had to be done 
before we arrived at the supper, which, 
to some of us boys, was not by any 
means the least portion of the even- 
ing's amusement. 

I had to work for my meal for days 
before ; that is, I had to study Baron 
Abomelique, be perpetually called into 
the housekeeper's room to try some- 
thing on (for our dresses were home- 
made), and to be ready at any moment 
to hear Austin, Dick, or Alice, if re- 
quired by them to lend them my ears, 
in return for theirs occasionally. 



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Mr. Cayander lounged about ; and^ 
when the important business of the 
morning was over (which was, of 
course, our theatrical preparations), 
Dick would be called upon to ride with 
his sister Alice, who was invariably 
accompanied by Mr. Cavander. Dick 
sulked, and wouldn't ; but Alice told 
him it was unkind, and then he 
obliged her. He often anticipated 
their return, riding back alone. 

When evening darkened the house, 
Alice, who loved the fire-light, as 
being " thinking-time," would sit in a 
low chair, xmd hold silent communion 
with the glowing logs and coals. 

Mr. Cavander was never far from 
her at this hour; and sometimes 
mamma and Mrs. McCracken would 
consent to take their refreshing cup 
of tea in the dark. This predilection 
for comparative obscurity was unintel- 
ligible to the practical elder sister. 

"You can't read, you can't sew; 
and really there's something, to my 
mind, so oppressive in it, you can 
hardly talk," said' Mrs. McCraclM, 
who did not approve of every one glu- 
ing way to Alice. 

" I do not always want to read ; I do 
not always want to sew ; and I think 
we all talk a great deal too much," 
said Alice, whose face was thrown into 
a Bembrandt-like shade by the red 
light on her dress, from her knee 
downwards. 

" It is nice to be quiet sometimes," 
observed mamma, trying to find a 
safe place for her teacup ; '^ only why 
not be quiet with light ? I really can- 
not see at alL" 

" We should see much better were 
we to rest our eyes oftener," said Alice 
sententiously. 

" Close them, then," said Dicl^ at 
fall-length on a settee. 

"Dick's right," observed sister 
l^ellie quickly, in order to save him 
s 



from consequences. ''We go to bed 
too late, as a rule." 

" For my part, I love this time of 
the day at this season : indeed, I am 
not sure if I do not prefer it far above 
all other times and seasons throughout 
the year." Alice.thought over her own 
proposition, and then continued, " The 
fire is such a companion, and such a 
superior being too." 

" Miss Alice is verging on, the doc- 
trines of the Parsees," said a voice, 
whose owner was now part and parcel 
of the sofa. 

"Better than the par^OTW," ex- 
claimed Dick. 

" Dick I " said Mrs. McCracken re- 
provingly. 

"Beg pardon, Nellie, only fun," 
Dick apologized ; '•' but Pawee is like 
pardon." 

"Not in sense," said his brother 
Austin gravely. " The Parsees are dis- 
ciples of Zoroaster, and worship fire" 

" It is very natural, since they be- 
gin with the sun, of which fire is the 
offspring and the living image. I wor- 
ship the fire — in winter. I agree 
with Miss Alice. The fire does seem 
to have a sympathizing heart, a warm, 
glowing heart, a living heart, with a 
placid pulsation." 

"We can hear it beat, can we 
not?" inquired Alice, approving the 
simile. 

"Yes. Listen! Calmly, now ex- 
citedly,, as though it had great things 
to say. Now there is a change in its 
constitution. No ; it recovers, is bril- 
liant for a second, so that all around 
catch the ray at different angles, but 
are helpless to return it, only showing 
up our own duU-headedness against 
the fire's wit." 

"There certainly is nothing so 
cheery or cosey in a bedroom," said 
mamma. 

" Or so roaring, noisy, and eager in 



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a kitchen," added Mrs. McCracken, 
who had been thinking it out. 

'^Look at it in a blacksmith's/' 
cried Dick. 

" In a study," said Austin. 

" In a drawing-room," I suggested 
vaguely, but with some remembrance, 
too, of one cold steel, and highly- 
polished fender at my father's. I would 
rather have quoted Mrs. Davis's nur- 
sery-fire, or that of the Verneys at 
dinner-time. I felt that we were play- 
ing a sort of game of how-do-you-like- 
it, when-do-you-like, and where-do- 
you-like-it, of which I had not as yet 
filled up the blanks in my formula. 

"No," said Alice, planting her 
elbows on her knees, and stretching 
both hands out towards the fire, as 
though imploring its inspiration for 
her on its own behalf. " See it in a 
sick-room. How quiet, soft, and pur- 
ring ! How comforting to the invalid is 
the mere sight of it, telling, as it does, 
at once of human sympathy, of un- 
remitting care. As long as there is a 
fire, there must be hope. Fire is ne- 
cessary to life : it can be of no use to 
the dead." 

"Alice!" said her mother, shiver- 
ing. There was a pause. We seemed 
to have drawn ghosts about us, as the 
shadows grew upon the walls, higher 
and higher, like spectral creepers. 

Mrs. McCracken was for coils, or a 
log^ at once. Alice prayed her to stay 
her hand. 

^ Don't bring the servant in," said 
Alice. " All the ghosts will run away, 
if Bale comes in with the candle. 
Don't!" 

^' We prefer," said Cavander, identi- 
fying himself with Alice, — " we pre- 
fer darkness rather than light." 

^But not for the same reason, I 
hope," returned Mrs. McCracken, who 
did not feel quite sure whether Andrew 
-would have countenanced this sort of 



conversation. The Rev. Andrew had 
once preached strongly about " idle 
words ', " and 8?ie had not forgotten that 
sermon. In fact, she had occasionally 
turned the weapons of that homily 
against the worthy Andrew himself 
when he had been stupidly irritating, 
as husbands will be sometimes. How- 
ever, he wasn't there to explain him- 
self; and, had he been, his explana- 
tions out of the pulpit did not carry 
conviction to her mind on all subjects. * 
Besides, Mr. Cavander waa, every one 
said, — and she could testify to it 
too, — a very superior man, who (every 
one said this also) wrote in some 
philosophical magazines, and even in 
"The Times," and was shrewd, too, 
in business* Who was she, Mrs. Mc- 
Cracken, out pf her parish, to sling 
at this champion ? Ko : if it pleased 
Alice to essay his conversion, why, it 
was a fine employment for Alice; 
and she might hear some plain truths, 
too, from a . man who was not only 
clever, but commonly sensible. So 
A^ reseated herself, and joined in let- 
ting Alice have her away. 

" Certainly not," said Cavander, an- 
swering the last speaker; "although 
we do wish to propitiate the shades." 

"I wish there were fairies," ob- 
served Austin quietly, preferring these 
to ghosts. " I mean Pucks, Titanias, 
and Oberons. I have a book of 
stories; with pictures of goblin faces 
in the fire, and elves twisting about 
in the smoke. If they are in the sick- 
room, they must be very good spirits, 
unless they take to making the kettle 
boil over, or pulling off the lid." 

** MediflBval writers," said Mr. Ca- 
vander's voice, 'for he had by this va- 
nished altogether, " spoke of a spirit 
behind all forms of life. The spirit 
of fire was to them as real as to a 
Parsee ; perhaps more real in propor- 
tion as their credulity was stronger.*' 



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"Their faith," Alice suggested, 
with some show of nervousness in her 
voice. 

•'A synonyme, in this case," replied 
Cavander quietly. 

"No," she answered quickly, "faith 
cannot be credulity. I am not credu- 
lous because I believe." 

" Credulous is derived from credoy^ 
^ said Austin, to whom a new line of 
thoaght had occurred. 

When, in after-years, we have ar- 
rived at a sure and calm haven, how 
almost hopeless is the search back 
again over the trackless waters to find 
what breeze first caused our shifting 
saib to swell in its direction ! 

"I think," said Alice, speaking 
candonsly, ^' one is bound, or almost 
bound, to believe in the existence of 
disembodied spirits." 
% " But the popular notion of a ghost 

is an embodied spirit. If I hear a 
homan voice uttering words, I know 
thatjcertain organs must be in exer- 
cise. I know that I am near nothing 
dead, but something living and human. 
I am bound to believe this by common 
sense : there is no other compulsion." 

This was not at all what Alice 

wanted ; and both Mrs. Comberwood 

and Mrs. McCracken were secretly 

delighted at this very reasonable an- 

^ swer as to ghosts. 

Alice felt that she was called upon 
to assort her belief in the supernatural, - 
and on the strongest and plainest 
groonds. 

"There is the Witch of Endor men- 
tioned in the Bible." 

Here, at least, it occurred to her 
that she should have the Bev. Andrew 
McCracken's better half and her mam- 
ma with her. She was doomed to 
disappointment. 

"I trust," said Mrs. Comberwood, 
" that you don't rank the Scriptures 
with ghost-stories, Alice." 



She had a mind to say something 
severe on new-fangled notions ; but, 
for her, she had gone far enough. 

" No, mamma ; of course not ! " re- 
plied Alice somewhat pettishly. 

"Miss Alice meant that she was 
willing to accept as fact an improba- 
bility, if it came to her on such un- 
deniable authority as that of the 
Bible." 

From which it will be seen that 
Mr. Cavander could adapt his conv«er^ 
sation to his company. Alice felt 
grateful to him for the rescue. It is 
dangerous to the well-being of a weak 
state that it should be obliged to ac- 
cept the voluntary services of a powei^ 
fill ally, who may, at no distant date, 
imperiously dictate where once it def- 
erentially advised. 

" I should think it is nearly time to 
dress," said Mrs. McCracken, rising. 

The dignified Bale entered witli 
candles, and, finding us all thus sprawl- 
ing about as if we had fallen on to the 
sofas and chairs through the ceiling, 
expressed facially no astonishment, 
but guarding himself carefully, and 
in the best-bred style possible, against 
treading on any other people who 
might be strewn about at haphazard 
on the carpet, he placed his lights, 
while his attendant drew the curtains 
with a sharp, decided click, atf though 
there were spectators outside who 
hadn't paid their money for the show; 
and having officially and distantly an- 
swered some questions as to " time " 
and his " master " withdrew. 

" Are the thingummies to come to- 
night ? " cried Dick suddenly, jump- 
ing up into an erect position, and 
shaking himself into his clothes. 

" Thingummies ? " repeated his mo- 
ther, who preferred to hear spades 
called spades, if there were reasons 
for so doing. 

"Yes: you know what I mean," 



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— which, by the way, is peculiar to 
boyhood, which genendizes, ani trusts 
to chance, — *' I mean the fellows who 
are going to play. Mr. Longlegs " — 

"Mr. Langlands, Dick," said his 
mother, fearful of her son calling her 
guest this to his face. " Why, he will 
think that we have been speaking of 
him as Longlegs behind his back." 

" Their rooms are ready," said Mrs. 
McCracken, — "Mr. and Mrs. Jake- 
man, Mr. Langlands, and ^Ir. Dothie." 

" And we shall have a rehearsal this 
evening," said Alice. 

" May I be prompter, or call-boy, 
or something," pleaded Mr. Cavander. 
"If you have nothing to employ my 
talents, what shall I do ? " 

"Talk to Mrs. Jakeman," said 
Alice. " She's very nice." And she 
swooped down before the fire. 

" Thank you. She will be watching 
her husband's reliearsal the whole 
time, and expatiating on its beauties. 
No : do let me be prompter." 

" Austin's going to prompt on the 
evening itself," I remarked. 

Cavander took not the slightest 
notice of me. 

, " In the first piece," said Austin : 
" that's all. The person whom papa 
brings from jLondon is to prompt and 
do every thing in that way while we're 
getting it up." 

"Then," said Mr. Cavander, "I 
shall constitute myself a claqueur, 
and shall rehearse when I am to laugh, 
cry, applaud, and throw a bouquet 
Come, Miss Alice, I may be of use 
to you, may I not ? " 

She turned round, smiling on him ; 
and their eyes met. In a second, hers 
were lowered before his, as the van- 
quished ship salutes the victor on the 
high seasL. It was a lesson in silent 
eloquence ; but it was the master in 
the art instructing his pupil. 

The bustle and the bells all over 



again. To-night we sat down a large 
party to dinner ; for Mr. Comberwood'a 
two carriages had arrived with the 
corps dramcUiquey consisting of the 
guests above mentioned. 

Then came the rector of White- 
boys (the Rev. Mr. Tabberer) and his 
daughter, who was to take a part in 
the first piece. The whole talk was 
of the stage ; and the gentlemen ama- 
teurs spoke like Olympian gods on a 
visit to men, telling good and racy 
anecdotes of a life higher than ours, 
and freely and honestly expressing 
themselves refreshed and revived by 
the incense of praise offered at their 
shrines by the devotees to whom the 
Olympians knew they could be un- 
commonly usefuL What is the use 
of being on friendly terms with a 
demi-god if he can't get you into 
Olympus ? A fico for your outsiders ! 
These lovers of the drama for its 
own sake (which soon came to mean 
for their own sakes ; but once in their 
early days it was not so, — but then 
they were not demi-gods) accepted 
sacrifices of houses turned topsy-turvy 
at their word, and libations of cham- 
pagne at the bands of those who 
yearned for even the acquaintance of 
a cloud in Olympus, These demi- 
gods of the sock and buskin invited 
right and left, introduced left and 
right, ordained where civility should 
end, and wHere begin, and graciously 
put Christopheros Sly at my lord's 
supper-table, asking my lord, in turn, 
to the theatricals chez Christopheros, 
which honest Christopheros, once a 
cobbler in a stall, now a millionnaire in 
a mansion, was only too pleased to 
give. 

Mr. Comberwood was in no need of 
these demi-gods ; but if your theatricals 
were to be the thing, and as good (at 
least) as your neighbors', then it was 
as necessary to success to reckon the 



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names of Messrs. Jakeman, Dothie, 
and LanglandSy in the night's pro- 
gramme, as to secure the name of 
Sergeant Bljster on the brief for the 
defendant in an action for libel. 
Percival Floyd, late of old Carter's, 
and now a big, hulking fellow, reading 
for the army at a private tutor's in 
the neighborhood, had been invited 
to fin some minor character. His 
legs were still his diflficulty, but were 
grmdoally assuming a military charac- 
ter, — a result, probably, of the direc- 
tion of his studies. 

I remember liking them all very 
much. They were very kind to me ; 
and Mr. Langlands condescended to 
call me ^'an infant Boscius." They 
were vastly polite to Miss Alice, and 
attentive to Miss Tabberer, and ap- 
peared to appreciate Cavander highly, 
having been, it seemed, all of them, 
well acquainted with him in London. 
They confirmed his mysterious literary 
reputation, and put such questions to 
him as were intended to show the 
bystanders how much they themselves 
knew, and to draw some corroborative 
information out of Cavander. Directly 
after breakfast, "the young Ws," 
under Miss Alice's direction, were to 
rehearse for an houif; which we did 
with as much regularity and precision 
as if we had been at lessons. 

At the end of that tyne, the stage 
was to be occupied by the '^ professional 
person" from town, to whom Uncle 
Van had been introduced by Pipkison 
at the Burlington Baa-Lambs, and 
who, having already arrived, and taken 
up his quarters at the " Old Whiteboys 
Inn,'' was to have the stage to himself 
to arrange for our elders, with whom 
he would then spend the greater part 
of the day rehearsing. 

Having finished my task, I was 
exossing the hall, when I stumbled 
upon a gentleman in a gray countryfied 



suit removing a comforter from his 
throat, and by his side a young lady 
most elegantly dressed. Her back 
was towards me ; but at that instant 
she turned, and the sunlight fell full 
upon her. Had she come suddenly 
through the wall on that golden ray, 
I could not have been much more as- 
tonished. 

" Julie, Mr. Vemey ! " I exclaimed, 
and pulled up suddenly with my hand 
out; the group looking uncommonly 
as if we were playing at some eccen- 
tric game of partridge-and-pointers, 
in which they were the birds, and I 
was the dog, marking them down. 

CHAPTER XVL 

A CHANGE COMES o'eB THE SPIRIT 
OP MY DREAM. — A COLD FAREWELL. 

Ik some old Irish tale, the peasant 
who has been spirited away into a 
sorceress's castle suddenly takes up a 
pipe that he finds lying near him, and 
commences to play a lilt. At the first 
note, Devildom had vanished ; and he 
was at his own peat fireside, clasping 
his dear Norah round the waist. One 
note of home had done it. 

Frampton's Court had been a home 
to me. Julie represented its good 
fairy ; Mr. Vemey the — the — well, 
I don't know what he represented, ex- 
cept himself, unless at Frampton's 
Court he might be considered as a 
sort of Don Wiggeroso Pomposo, the 
comic chamberlain, who gives up his 
grandeur to dance with the king. 
As a man has indelibly impressed up- 
on him the stamp of his public school 
or university, like a hall mark, so I 
had the impression of Frampton's 
Court on me strongly, and no desire 
to be rid of it It was, to me, to 
belong to a secret lodge, a confrater- 
nity. I fancy I could pick out a 
Frampton's Court man now, could I 



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My Timej and Wheel Fve Done with li. 



see one. If a queen has died with 
" Calais " vnritten on her heart, can I 
not live with "Frampton's Court" 
engraved on mine ? Whether I can 
or not, or whether the material fact 
be true (which in any case I doubt), 
is not to the purpose here, seeing that 
Frampton's has been in my heart for 
years, worn by time, but not erased. 
In an instant, Einghurst Whiteboys 
had vanished ; and I was once more 
in my old home. 

Mr. Vemey himself was the first to 
break the spell. While Julie stood 
by his side, smiling so prettily, he 
welcomed me toRinghurst Whiteboys, 
having in imagination previously taken 
possession of this baronial residence. 
It might, irom his manner, have been 
the property of his ancestors for gen- 
erations. 

" My dear Master Cecil Colvin," he 
said, waving hi3 Band gracefully, as 
if pointing out the beauties of the 
place to me, swaying his body gently 
meanwhile, — "my dear Master Cecil 
Colvin, how lovely is this scene ! This 
is indeed rural and yet baronial, from 
cottage to court I And without, what 
more lovely spectacle to a mind capa- 
ble of appreciating the physical beau- 
ties which a Watteau might people, 
and a Olaude depict," — here he took 
breath, recovered his theme, and con- 
tinued, "Yes, sir, what can be more 
thrilling entrancing than the ancient 
face of ever-bounteous Dame Nature, 
smiling upon us through her tears, 
and with the pearl-powder of last 
night's mask not yet brushed from 
her dumpling — I should say dimp- 
ling — cheek I " 

He meant that the snow was still 
on the ground in places ; but his lapsus 
UngtUB had recalled to my mind 
Pomona, the goddess of apples, in 
Frampton's C6urt. 

" In patches, yes," he returned ; for 



I had asked him if this were his mean- 
ing, — " powder and patches. Dame 
Nature in powder and patches, with 
the trimming of the floweret crocus on 
her mantilla, and a faint sniff of the 
last rosfe of the previous summer waft- 
ed to us from the now sleeping Flora.'^ 
" Have you come to' stay here ? " I 
asked. 

"No," he replied in an off-hand 
way. "I was asked to superintend 
the rehearsals of the drawing-room 
comedy, in which I have myself taken 
a part, and know all Madame Vestris's 
business in it, from flirting her co- 
quettish little fan, down to the pointing 
of her delicate, pinky-tipped, satin 
slipper. Your relative, Mr. Van Clym, 
— I am correct in his nomenclature, 
I believe ; for though I think I may 
safely trust myself not to err in any 
word of purely Saxon character, — 
and it is astonishing how the best 
educated people mispronounce their 
own mother tongue, — yet I am not 
so certain when I cannot, so to speak, 
feel my feet : I mean, for example, on 
the soil of Holland, to which country 
your worthy uncle — uncle is he 
not?"— 
"Yes." 

'^our worthy' uncle no doubt be- 
longs. Ahem I I was about to say," 
recalling his own attention to his 
original theme on noticing a desire on 
tbilie's part and mine to start a con- 
versation, — "I was about to inform 
you that I had the pleasure of making 
Mr. Van Clym's acquaintance at one 
of those convivial meetings to which 
your youth yet renders you a stranger, 
where the voice of jocund melody 
delights the ear, where the pathetic 
song gives you* hysterica passio all 
down the back, like a flash of light- 
ning on a finger-post — where the 
feast of reason is enlivened by the play 
of wit and fancy, with Mr. Pipkbon, 



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our mutual friend, in the chair, who in- 
tzodaced me to your Dutch uncle, — I 
mean no offence, — and instructed me 
to the effect that if I would not mind 
ranning down, — metaphysically, for I 
came by train, — to Ringhuist White- 
boys, I should confer an obligation, 
increase the ciccle of friends, and add 
another fiye years to my life by sharing 
with the feathered warblers the pure 
breezes toying with the thatches of 
our English homesteads. Apart from 
this, they have made it sufficiently 
worth my while to enable me to bring 
Julie with me, after a consultation 
with her mother, who. is of opinion 
that this brief change will yastly 
benefit our child. The others, thank 
you, are doing well, and " — 

Here he was stopped by a sneeze so 
sadden and so powerful as to have all 
the effect of a violent shock fro^i a 
galvanic battery. There was a tre- 
mendous Import ; and then his whole 
frame vibrated, after which he stood 
for some seconds clutching ^t the 
wrong pocket for his handkerchief, 
and struggling as it were with a fiend 
of sneezing, which had been exorcised, 
and was now doing his worst and last 
<m quitting Mr. Vemey's human fonn. 

The noise brought out nearly every 
one to inquire into the cause, Mr. 
Langlands among the rest, who, proud 
of recognizing Mr. Vemey as an old 
theatrical acquaintance whom he had 
known ^' behind the scenes," and who 
would assist his own reputation by 
corroborating his theatrical experi- 
ences, seized upon him at once, and 
insisted upon his recovering his equa- 
nimity by means of a glass of sherry 
or other refreshment, Floyd, lounging 
in at this moment, was introduced to 
Mr. Vemey, and then stood staring 
heavily at little Julie. Floyd was at 
this time something between a raw 
recrait and a middy. 



I was still in wonderment at little 
Julie, — little no longer; and yet she 
was not so tall as I, — she looked so 
much older than she ought to hare 
looked; and the secret of this I have 
since discovered, though when, at this 
time, she told me the reason herself I 
was not sufficiently experienced to 
understand her. 

"Do you still play in pantomimes," 
I asked, "and come out of flower- 
beds?" 

She was quite indignant with me. 

" Oh, dear, no ! " she answered : " I 
haven't done that for ever so long ! 
Why, last two seasons I've been in 
the opera." 

" The opera ! " I exclaimed. Floyd 
stroked the down on his upper lip, and 
regarded hSt attentively. 

The notion I had of the opera at 
this time was not in any way founded 
upon what I knew of a theatre. The 
opera (I remember this fancy so well) 
was to my mind some enormous build- 
ing, — like- the Colosseum at Rome, of 
which I had seen pictures, — with 
singers and music and dancers, some- 
how, all about, with the irregular regu- 
larity and inconsistent consistency 
of a dream. 

That little Julie, who had played 
with me ; who had looked over my pic- 
ture-books, and received some instruc- 
tion at my hands ; who had, moreover, 
only, it seemed to me, quite lately, 
been small enough to go into a theat- 
rical cauliflower or a parsley-bed, — 
that this little creature should be in a 
long dress of the fashionable style of 
the day, with bonnet and the neatest 
wristbands and gloves to match, tell- 
ing me of her prowess at the opera, 
was a greater piizzle, far greater, than 
if Mr. Vemey had announced his ap- 
pointment to the see of Canterbury, 
and had walked in dressed in a shovel- 
hat, knee-breeches, apron, and gaiters. 



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" The Italian oper%'' said Julie. " I 
was one of the pages in the * Hugue- 
nots' and in * Favorita.' " 

" What? '' exclaimed Alice's voice. 
She had advanced with Austin unper- 
ceived, and had overheard the conver- 
sation. Floyd was still caressing the 
fluff meditatively. No one seemed to 
take any notice of him. And, after 
all, he was only a supernumerary in 
the theatricals. 

Stranger still. Comparing Alice 
with Julie, there seemed to be but 
little difference. Both were, in my 
eyes, young women, only that I knew 
Julie's age. 

Little Julie's life, hard work at 
home, and the necessity of working 
for her liv^lihood, had nearly made 
up the interval of years between them. 
As I looked from one to the other (for 
I was confused, and did not know 
exactly what to do), Julie became less 
and less ; dwindling away, in spite of 
her dress and bearing, to the little 
Julie with whom I had gone market- 
ing to the a la mode beef-shop, — my 
Julie, in fact, of Frampton's Court. 

" You accompanied Mr. Vemey ? " 
Alice inquired with some hauteur, in 
her tone ; while Austin appeared inter- 
ested in the new-comers. 

" Yes," answered Julie pleasantly. 

She was not a whit discomposed, 
but as much at home, and as unem- 
barrassed, as though she had lived in 
palaces all her lifetime. 

" This is Miss Alice Comberwood, 
Julie," I explained, blushing. 

I loved Julie ; but Alice was older 
and grander. Had the choice been 
then given me between the two, I 
should have taken Alice, but should 
have requested Julie to wait until she 
was a trifle older. In my own esti- 
mation I was two years ahead of any 
one of whom I had become enamoured. 
My love gave me the superiority ; and, 



somehow or other, the notion, that, in 
carrying off Alice, I should be a suc- 
cessful rival of Cavander, was at the 
bottom of it, I believe. 

Poor Cavander I Had it remained 
with me to banish him to the mines 
of Siberia when I was just on four- 
teen, or to let him stay in the city, 
Comhill would not have seen much of 
him for some years ' to come. 

"You act?" Alice asked little 
Julie rather abruptly. 

" Yes : every nighf 

<*What in?" 

"The first piece." 

"Where'? I mean at which thea- 
tre?" 

"The Portico," answered Julie, 
naming one of the largest metropoli- 
tan theatres. 

"Do you like it?" asked Austin. 

"Very much. I have never done 
any thing else. " 

" I wish I were an actor," lie said 
regretfully. 

Julie smiled. She knew Framp- 
ton's Court as well as the Portico 
theatre. 

Alice was annoyed with Austin. 

" An actor, Austy ! How can you 
say so, when you've set yourself on^ 
being a clergyman." 

It was Alice's pet idea of his future. 
Austin said that he did not really 
mean it, which pacified her; but I 
could see by her nianner that there 
was something deeper than mere an- 
noyance at her brother's thoughtless 
wish, when, on being, summoned to 
attend the rehearsal, she left us, and 
called her brother to accompany her. 

" You remember going to the opera 
last year, mamma?" she asked her 
mother, in the front dining-room, a 
while later on, when I was then watch- 
ing the performance, and Julie was 
sitting by what were to be " the 
wings/' talking to Mr. Jakeman. 



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" Yes," returned Mrs. Comberwood. 
"We heard — dear me! something 
new, wasn't it ? — yes. My memory is 
80 bad for names." 

" Les Hugaenots,"^said Alice. 

" Ah ! of course." 

" Do you remember where the queen 
oomes on ? " 

" No, yes — let me see : in a sort 
of barge ? "— 

" I mean where there are steps, and 
some women dressed as pages." 

"Oh, quite well ! There were four 
or five very handsome young women ; 
and Mr. Langlands pointed out what 
beautiful diamonds one had on, and 
told us that there was quite a story 
about it." Mrs. Comberwood went 
t^ce to the opera during the season, 
and forgot nothing. 

" Yes. Well, that's one of them 
sitting there." 

"Where, Alice dear?" 

" There," answered Alice, inclining 
her head towards the spot where Julie 
was seated. 

Mrs, Comberwood was vexed. I 
could not then understand why she 
should have been ; but I rememberthe 
fact, as, having overheard the conver- 
sation, I felt it incumbent upon me to 
assist with such information as I could 
bring to the subject. 

"Does your father allow you to 
associate with — with — these peo- 
ple ? " Mrs. Comberwood asked me, 
raising her eyebrows. 

I was bound to reply that my parent 
knew nothing at all about it : where- 
upon Mrs. Comberwood was of opinion 
that she ought to let Sir John know. 
This distressed me. I saw there was 
something wrong with the Vemeys, 
at least in the eyes of Alice and her 
mother; and I determined to ask 
Austin what it was. 

Mr. Verney was very great at re- 
hearsal, especially with the ladies^ 



Miss Alice and Miss Tabberer, whom 
he had to direct. With the gentle- 
men he was afiGekble, but fij'm : with the 
ladies equally firm, but overpower- 
ingly oourteous. When he wanted to 
show the practical bearing of any 
stage-direction, he would request Julie 
to assist him in giving the Jesson. 

" Stage-management," he said, 
stopping to lecture, " is an art , — an 
art, I regret to say, almost entirely 
lost. Thalia and Melpomene may do 
their best ; Apollo may give us his most 
sparkling tunes ; and, to come to mod- 
ern days, a Garrick or a Kemble may 
conquer by the force of a genius which 
would sweep all before it like Nftgara 
over a dust-bin, and absorb every 
moving creature in its own exhaus- 
tive vortex with the irresistible succu- 
lency, I should say, the tremendous 
suctional power, of the Northern Mael- 
strom" (here he paused, expanded 
his chest, which was swelling out, as 
it were, with the great notion of the 
last simile, and beamed on tis all 
round)*: " but," he continued, " with- 
out the stage-manager, what is the 
use ? Cui bono ? I repeat, cui bono ? 
Hamlet may be perfect ; but if he be 
lost in the crowd, or if Hosencrantz 
and Guilderstein are brought too prom- 
inently forward, where is the opportu- 
nity for the gifted Roscius ? No, sir, 
pardon me " ( this to Jakeman, who 
was beginning to be a little impa- 
tient ), " whether it be low comedy, 
which I take to be your line, sir" (to 
Jakeman, who was standing as if wait- 
ing his turn to advance in a quadrille), 
" or light touch-and-go, Charles Mat- 
thews's line, as I take to be yours, Mr. 
Langlands," — whereat that gentle- 
man gave a mock bow, but was real- 
ly highly flattered, — " no matter 
whatever it be, stage-managefnent is 
as much the necessity to our art as 
the light of heaven to a Michsel An- 



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My Time J and What Fve Done unih It 



gelo at work on his immortal frescoes. 
Stage-management is the generalship 
of our art, ladies, and we make pur 
successes as the noble Boman warrior 
made them, by strategies, whieh are 
to the ignorant, like a truffle to a 
bumpkin. The finest picture and the 
merest daub of a signboard are of 
equal value in the dark ; and Hamlet 
put out of sight in the play-scene, 
behind Ophelia, instead of in front of 
her, might as well be in the sixpenny 
gallery sucking oranges over the brass 
rail as m such a position as would ruin 
the chance of the greatest dramatic 
genius in the world. I beg your par- 
don, ftr. Now let us proceed." 

From this specimen it may be 
imagined what time the piece, which 
was to last an hour in performance, 
occupied in rehearsal. 

Mr. Vemey and his daughter were 
obliged to leave early, in order to catch 
the train for town ; their engagement 
at the Portico necessitating their pres- 
ence there soon after six. 

Julie asked me, — 

" Don't you think me much 
grown ? " 

^* Yes, Julie, ever so much ! " 

" I'm not," she answered ; " only 
papa makes me wear heels, and he will 
have me dress like a grown-up girL" 

"Why?" 

" Because then they give me small 
parts ; and, when you've once played 
those, you don't go back again, and 
you get more." 

"Get more?" 

" Yes : higher salary, I mean." 

She stopped suddenly. At that 
moment a vague sense of the line of 
demarcation between us occurred to 
her. She changed the subject abrupt- 
ly, and asked me whether I would not 
like to see her Aunt Jane again. 

« Nurse ? " I asked. The word re- 
turned to me most familiarly. 



" Yes," said Mr. Vemey, who was 
now wrapped for his journey. " She 
is still a nurse. Head-nurse, too, in a 
very large family. • She is superintend- 
ent at St. Winifred's Central Hospi- 
tal, near the General Post Office, 
where she cheers the pallid invalids 
like a blooming Aurora smiling on a 
sickly swede in a kitchen garden." 
Mr. Vemey 's similes smacked of the 
country atmosphere. He asked, 
"ShaU I teU her that you will do 
yourself the pleasure of paying her 
a visit?" 

" Yes, please." 

" I will. We must make haste, 
Julie." At this moment, Langlands 
and Floyd entered ; and JVIr. Vemey 
emerged from the upper fold of his 
comforter to bid them farewell, and 
do something in the way of an adver- 
tisement. 

" We shall see you at the Portico, 
Mr. Langlands, one night after the 
Convivial Lambs, where Mr. Floyd 
will give us the honor of his compa- 
ny." Floyd bowed, and said he 
shoidd be very happy to renew the 
ac(|uaintance of Mr. Vemey and his 
daughter. 

"Julie, Mr. Langlands, now plays 
Dolly in ' The WisV continued Mr. 
Vemey : " a very nice soubrette'spart, 
— something between the Humby and 
the Vestris, in, of course, quite the 
early days. You will go and see her 
play one night, I trust. She grips 
the part, sir." Here he extended his 
right hand, and suited the action 
to the word — "she grips the part, 
sir, with the nip of an irritated pan- 
ther. You'll be astonished, I assure 
ye. There's an intellectual grasp 
about her, sir, that makes you sit 
tight in your stall and yet turns you 
over like a crocus in a whirlwind. 
Come, Julie. Qood-by for the present, 
gentlemen. (}ood-by, Master CeoiL" 



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The Smiths. , 27 

"Good-by; and good-by, Julie/' to me occasionally, and disappeared 
When we had last parted, we em- earlier than on the previous day of re- 
braced ; but now I was a guest at hearsal. I asked for Julie ) but she 
Ringhurst Whiteboys, and she was had not accompanied him, and "would 
playing a chambermaid in a farce, a not," he added, "be again required on 
page in an opera, and wearing heels to this scene." Her absence threw a 
ber boots in order to obtain some ad- gloom over my day, as I somehow felt 
dition to her week's salary. that I had indirectly been the cause 
It was not a parting as of old# of hei; banishment. I was for putting 
The next day Mr. Vemey's visit was this question to Alice, who, I fancied, 
repeated ; but he was out of spirits, knew more about the matter than any 
ELis conversation was pitched in a mi- one else ; but just then her attention 
nor key, his similes were dull, his in- was fully taken up by the theatricals 
stniction tame, and he did little more and Mr. Cavander. ' 
than merely his stage-duty. He spoke 

[To be oontinQed.] 



THE SMITHS. 

[Editor "Old AWt) New,"— lambot a strangor to "Old awd New," and the Hub Is not a 
land of promise to a backwoodsman ; bot I will out my backalghts and try you. If I miss, send back 
the ball to yours, &c.]— Gbo. W. Seabs. 

Let us say the lives of our sires are lost 5 
That ever our hopes elude and fade ; 
, That the ages are hlackened and battle-tossed^ 

And we gain no step in a long decade : 
What then? shall the' wrong and crime exhaust 
Eternal justice? and shall no shade 
Remain of the life that is crushed and crossed ? 

Let us say we have gained so much on time. 

That we hold some good which their lives have bought ; 

That not in vain at wrong and crime 

Have freedom's battles been aimed and fought; 

That even failure may be sublime 

In its fearful cost, in the lessons taught. 

And its deathless lay in the realms of rhyme. 

And all of the good we hold to-day 
Has cost us ages of toil to wring 
From Hebrew letter, from usage gray, 
And the harpy clutches of priest and king : 
We work and wait for the better way 
The snail-paced ages are sure to bring ; 
But we grind the bayonets as we pray. 

Grim and aweary, we work and wait ; 

For the brighter dawning shall come at last, 

We shall find the key of the golden gate, 

And take a bond for the bitter past ; 

And kings and prelates shall yield to fate 

When none of us pay or pray or fast 

For the harlot wedding of Church atid State. 



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Washington University. 



WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY. 



OF ST. LOXnS. MI8SOX7BI. 



BY W. G. ELIOT. 



Thebe may be something absurd or 
arrogant, or, to say the least, decidedly 
" Western," — a term which sometimes 
includes both ideas, — in expecting 
people to believe that there can be 
any thing like national importance 
attached to a half-fledged university 
west of the Mississippi River. The 
assertion would be more likely to 
cause a smile of half-amused contempt 
than to excite any stronger feeling, 
either 6f favor or opposition. If fol- 
lowed by a serious appeal to the com- 
munity at large, inc^fiding the pre-oc- 
cupied constituencies of Harvard and 
Yale, for a million of dollars of addi- 
tional endowment, to meet the present 
urgent demand, the smUe would prob- 
ably lose its sweetness, and an impa- 
tient refusal be very promptly given. 
No such appeal, therefore, is here 
intended, unless, by making the asser- 
tion good^ an opportunity of usefulness 
is thereby presented, which, to some 
minds, may constitute a claim to 
friendly consideration. 

The assertion, however, is distinctly 
made, with a conviction of its literal 
truth, that the institution named at 
the head of this article, and known as 
Washington University of St. Louis, 
is one which has so great advantages, 
by virtue, first, of its organization, 
and, secondly, of its geographical posi- 
tion, that it only needs financial 
strength to make it a leading educa- 
tional power in the United States. 

I. The Principles op its Organ- 
ization. — There are, chiefly, two 
kinds of universities and higher edu- 
cational institutions which divide pub- 
lic favor in this country, — those under 



the direct patronage of the several ' 
States, and those which are estab- 
lished and controlled by special re- 
ligious denominations. We propose 
to say nothing against either of these 
recognized methods of action ; for they 
are good in their place and cannot be 
dispensed with. They have some 
obvious and inherent difficulties, 
growing out of the « meddlesome ten- 
dency of party politics on the one 
hand, and the unavoidable, narrow- 
ing influence of sectarian zeal on the 
other. But taking all things into 
account, and notwithstanding these 
difficulties (which all State universi- 
ties and sectarian colleges feel and 
most of them lament), we believe that 
no other course, in the majority of 
cases, could have been wisely adopted. 
As the general method of educational 
enterprise, it has probably been the 
easiest and best, particularly in the 
younger States, where the public 
mind has not yet been educated up to a 
clear appreciation of the highest scien- 
tific and intellectual interests. 

Until quite recently, there have been 
no important seminaries of learning 
which do not come under the classifi- 
cation above given ; and, even now, 
the number is very small. Several of 
these, by acceptance of the United 
States grant of land for agricultural 
colleges, have, to some extent, admit- 
ted the element of political influence 
and scrutiny. On the other hand, 
some of the oldest and most honored 
institutions have been striving, for 
many years past, to lessen the direct- 
ness and strength of the denomina- 
tional influence to which their estab- 



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lisliinent was due. This is the case 
with Yale University at New Haven, 
which may not improbably work its 
way, -under its present wise and gen- 
eitms management, to as perfect free- 
dom as can reasonably be desired. Its 
great advancement both in the quality 
and quantity of work done, growing 
out of such tendencies, especially in 
the last decade, is a cause of congratu- 
lation to all the lovers of sound learn- 
ing ; for it is more and more felt, as 
the world of science becomes larger 
and the march of mind more free, 
that theological or sectarian control 
is inconsistent with the best intellec- 
tual training either of the teacher or 
the student. In the coming time, per- 
fect freedom of investigation in all 
departments of truth must be recog- 
nized as the law, and the only law, of 
the higher education. 

At Harvard, the same tendencies 
have been in action for a much longer 
time, and the desired result is already 
substantiaDy accomplished. Of secta- 
rian control there is absolutely noth- 
ing, of sectarian influence very little ; 
and that little is felt rather in the 
exclusion of direct theological instruc- 
tion than in any other way. The 
connection with the State has also 
been so far modified, that the inter- 
ference of party politics has become 
almost impossible. It is from such 
causes, as we think, added to the 
health-giving proximity of a great 
city, that Harvard has derived its com- 
manding strength and wide-spread 
usefulness. No degree of energy and 
wisdom in the management of its 
affairs, and no degree of liberality on 
the part of its benefactors, could hold 
it in its present grand position, if 
sectarianism or party political strife 
were admitted into its councils. If its 
present endowments were quadrupled, 
on the condition of its giving a rec- 



ognized influence to any religious 
sect, the university would be weakened 
and impoverished thereby. 

The prime necessity of an American 
University is such an organization as 
will secure both to its faculties and 
students the fullest freedom of thought 
and the most unrestricted range of 
scientific and • intellectual research. 
Its one motto must be (as that of Har- 
vard is ) TRUTH, for its own sake and 
for the love of it. It must so worship 
truth that it will open its doors wide 
to aD who come, with the full convic- 
tion, that, in a fair field truth, asks for 
no advantage. It must, therefore, be 
entirely free firom sectarian or political 
control, and have no other aim than 
to promote, to the highest possible de- 
gree, the cause of mental culture. 

Washington University entered, 
from the beginning, upon the bold and 
apparently hopeless task of building 
up a great institution, not only with- 
out the help of party or sect, but with 
a distinct renunciation of all such 
help and of all sectarian bias. The 
eighth article of its constitution de- 
clares, that "no instruction, either 
. sectarian in religion, or partisan in 
politics, shall be allowed in any de- 
partment of the university; and no 
sectarian or party test shall be used 
in the election of professors, teachers, 
or other oflGlcers of the university ; nor 
shall any such test ever be used in 
the university for any purpose what- 
soever." The constitution also de- 
clares the article just quoted "not 
subject to alteration at any time;'' 
and, to guard against all encroach- 
ments in this important particular, the 
directors obtained an amendment to 
the charter, by which that article is 
incorporated into the same, and there- 
by placed beyond the power of any 
fixture board of directors. It is also, 
by the amended charter, made corn- 



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Washmgion TJimerBxly. 



petent for the St. Louis Circuit Court, 
or the Sfc. Louis Court of Common 
Pleas, upon proper application, to 
compel the board of directors, by 
mandamus^ to perform .their duty in 
the correction of any violation of this 
rule, and to show their performance 
of such duty to the satisfaction of the 
court having cognizaQce of the matter. 
Under this charter, no theological 
school can be established as a depart- 
ment of the university; or, at least, 
the practical difficulty of teaching 
"unsectarian theology" is so great, 
that it is not likely to be soon at- 
tempted. But all other departments 
of learning are in its proper range ; 
and the powers conferred are ample 
for the accomplishment of all the pur- 
poses of education, in whatever di- 
rection of art, science, literature, or 
philosophy, and by whatever methods, 
may be chosen. The university may 
own property in any part of the State, 
may receive gifts and endowments, 
without any assigned limit as to 
amount ; and all its property is forever 
exempt frbm taxation- The last point 
was held in dispute for a time, in con- 
sequence of a provision in the new 
constitution of Missouri, adopted in 
1865, by which this franchise was 
withdrawn. But, after passing through 
all the cousts, the decision of the 
United States Supreme Court was 
given in favor of the university, upon 
the general principle of the inviola- 
bility of contracts, in the case of 
Washington University vs, Rowse, re- 
ported in vol. viji. of Wallace's U. S. 
Supreme Court Reports, p. 439. 

The board of directors consists of 
seventeen members, in whom and 
their successors is vested complete 
control, both of educational and finan- 
cial affairs. It is a close corporation, 
making its own regulations and fill- 
ing it€ own vacancies, under the re- 



strictions of the charter above named, 
aftid subject to the law of the land. 
It is now composed of men represent- 
ing all the leading interests of society, 
of various religious denominations. 
Catholic and Protestant, who have 
been, from time to time, elected with 
a sole view to their competency and 
willingness to fill the office. 

Under this organization, Washing- 
ton University began a feeble exist- 
ence about twenty years ago ; but its 
collegiate life is of not much more 
than ten years' duration. Its univer- 
sity life, in any proper sense of the 
word, is yet to begin. It has, how- 
ever, sho^rn good capacity of growth 
and development, and has already ad- 
vanced, in a very quiet progress, from 
a small preparatory school of forty 
boys, under two teachers, to an insti- 
tution of respectable significance, in- 
cluding in its catalogue a classical 
academy, in which boys are well fitted 
for college; a "Mary Institute," in 
which girls receive as thorough an 
education as can be obtained in the 
United States; a college proper, in 
which the standard of admission is 
but six months lower than at Har- 
vard and the cours'e of study not at all 
less exacting; a polytechnic school, 
with a four^years' course, modelled, 
chiefiy, after the Technological School 
of Boston ; a school of art and design, 
just shaping itself into good propor- 
tions; and a law school, which has 
already earned a high reputation for 
thoroughness of instruction, though 
numbering but fifty students. The 
total number of students, of all grades, 
for this year, is nine hundred and 
ninety, and the number of professors 
and teachers, in all, sixty*five. 

Its whole property, including real 
estate, is not less than six hundred 
thousand- dollars, free from debt ; and 
of this amount nearly three hundred 



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thousand are invested funds. The 
total expenses are about eighty-five 
thousand dollars per annum, which is 
nearly ten thousand more than its as- 
sured receipts ; deficiencies being an- 
nually made up by special gifts. 

Its whole career, such as it is, has 
been one of great difficulty, during a 
period of social strife, civil war, and 
financial crisis ; but it has succeeded 
in obtaining and holding public con- 
fidence, in disarming sectarian oppo- 
sition, and in so identifying itself 
with the interests of the community, 
that its failure in any material re- 
spect would be regarded as a public 
calamity. It is already, if not a con- 
trollings yet a strong modifying influ- 
ence in the educational affairs of the 
city and state and neighboring com- 
munities ; and, with an equal progress 
for another ten years, would make it- 
self felt in every part of the Missis- 
sippi Valley. 

As indicative of the spirit in which 
the university has thus far been con- 
ducted, and of the interpretation of the 
charter, which may be regarded as a 
law of precedent now established, we 
quote a paragraph which has appeared 
annually in the published catalogue 
from the first : — 

" The members .of the corporation 
have no selfish nor sectarian purpose 
to serve. They earnestly desire that 
the university should attain a high 
moral and religious character as a 
Christian institution in a Christian 
republic ; but they equally desire that 
the narrow principles of sectarianism 
and party spirit may never be al 
lowed to enter there.'^ 

II. Geographical Position. — 
To the surprise of every one, it appears, 
by the United States census of 1870, 
that Missouri is the fifth manufactur- 
ing State in the Union : Massachu- 
setts^ New York, Pennsylvania, and 



Ohio stand before it. Its increase in 
the ten years between 1860 and 1870 
was four hundred per cent, which was 
really due to the six years after 1864^ 
and the progress in this respect has 
been still more rapid since the census 
was taken. It also appears that St 
Louis is the third manufacturing city ; 
Kew York City and Philadelphia 
alone standing before it. Its popula- 
tion has regularly doubled on itself • 
every seven years since 1830, at which 
time it was fifty-eight hundred. In 
1864, it was a hundred and sixty- 
four thousand; in 1870, three hun- 
dred and thirteen thousand ; and by 
a city census just finished it numbers 
four hundred and twenty-eight thou- 
sand. It has the advantage of more 
extensive river-navigation than any 
other city in the world; extending 
from the Rocky Mountains to the 
Alleghanies, and from the Great Lakes 
to the Gulf of Mexico. It is already 
one of the principal railroad centres, 
and thirteen main lines are in full 
(^eration, reaching from the Atlantic 
to the Pacific, and from the extreme 
north to Galveston and Mobile ; and 
this is but the beginning of a deyelop- 
ment which promises to be more rapid 
in the future than in the past. We 
cannot here enter into the statistical 
details ; but all indications now point 
to the result, as certain as any such 
calculations can be, that St. Louis will 
gain, rather than lose, in its relative 
importance with the other cities of 
the Union, in the present and next 
decade. It will probably number six 
hundred and fifty thousand inhabit- 
ants in 1880, and stand in popula- 
tion, commerce, and manufactures, the 
second or third city of the United 
States. 

Its influence throughout the great 
region of which it is the natural me- 
tropolis will be, like that of all large 



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Washington Univermty. 



cities, almost irresistible either for unimportant whether the educational 
good or evil ; and when we consider the workshop is in Massachusetts or Mis- 
immense resources of the Mississippi souri, or wherever else, so that the 
V alley, by the reasonable development conditions of good work, and the best 
of which it must become the control- means for its diflfusion, are secured, 
ling political power of the Union, we Neither our highest allegiance, nor the 



canhot exaggerate the importance of 
the early establishment of such insti- 
tutions, both moral and educational^ 
as will give a right direction to the 
public mind. Louisville and Cincin- 
nati and Chicago, and whatever other 
cities may spring up, will have enough 
to do, and there is room enough for 
all ; but St. Louis has its own place 
and appointed work, the magnitude 
of which is increasing every day, and 
for the right performance of which it 
cannot be too soon prepared. 

Having reached this point, the 
readers of " Old and New '' will need 
no argument to prove that a uni- 
versity founded upon broad American 
principles, and liberally endowed, in 
this leading city of the West, is a mat- 
ter of general, if not, strictly speak- 
ing, national importance. It is not 
by any means a matter of mere local 
interest, but may as fairly invite gen- 
eral co-operation as any of the older 
institutions which are now appealing 
to the whole country for aid. 

One lesson learned from the late 
civil war may help us. to the same 
conclusion. It is, that, in this great 
fraternity of States, we are " members 
one of another.'' Our local and 
general interests, whenever the higher 
elements of prosperity 'are involved, 
can scarcely be separated from each 
other. The loss suffered by Harvard 
University in the Boston fire was a 
■loss to the cause of education every- 
where. The munificent gifts to Prof. 
Agassiz's enterprise, by a citizen of 
New York, are gifts to the people of 
the United States, for which thanks 
are due from all. It is comparatively 



exercise of our largest philanthropy, 
can properly be bounded by State 
lines. The seventy-five thousand dol- 
lars given by Boston citizens, * some 
years ago, to Washington University 
in St. Louis, was not taken from home 
uses ; but, rather, it was the extension 
of the best Boston principles broad- 
cast a thousand miles away. The 
gifts were bestowed at the time of 
greatest discouragement, and when 
most needed. It is not impossible, 
coming when they did, that they may 
have turned the scale between per- 
manent success and failure. And 
what difference does it make to the 
philanthropist where the tree is 
planted, if it bears life-giving fruit to 
the people ? The question is only one 
of the greatest good. 

It may be said, and we admit the fact, 
although it may seem to lessen the 
force of our argument, that there is 
wealth enough in St. Louis to endow 
a dozen universities without feeling 
it. It has a greater amount of capi- 
tal, and less indebtedness, by very far, 
than any other Western city. The 
" solidity " of its merchants compares 
tolerably well with that of Boston 
itself; and it has so little of the spec- 
ulative feeling which trades on bor- 
rowed capital and grows rich by 
" comer-lots," that it is generally un- 
derstood to be " slow.'' Real estate is 
at a lower valuation, take the city 
through, than in any other large city ; 
and money can be obtained for legiti- 
mate uses, and on good security, at any 
time, at reasonable rates of interest 

1 Chiefly by Nathaniel Thayer and Kn. Angos- 
tat Hamenway. 



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In a woid, St Louis is one of the 
strongest and wealtliiest cities of the 
United States* 

If otiier men thought as we do, 
therefore, there would he no difficulty 
in obtaining five millions, instead of 
one, for such a university as would 
meet the growing demand; hut, un- 
fortunately, there are hut few in any 
community to whom 'that kind of 
prudence is given. Very few of the 
wealthiest men care to distinguish 
themselves in that way. The amount 
already done for Washington Univer- 
sity is a standing wonder to the major- 
ity of citizens in St. Louis ; and to say 
the truth, under all the circumstances 
it has been very large. It has reached, 
including what has heen '^ sunk ^' in 
the annual expenditure and in unprofi- 
table investments, three-fourths of a 
million dollars, aU of which (except as 
above named) has come as free gifts 
to the cause of education from St. 
Louis people. It has not come chiefly 
from the very rich, hut from those 
who, among merchant princes, would 
be counted as men of moderately inde- 
pendent means. Some of the hest 
donors do not even aspire to he rated 
80 high, and have transcended the 
common laws of wisdom in their gifts, 
and are not unlikely to do it again. 
But it is too soon in St. Louis, to ex- 
pect a large and general patronage of 
learning ; and perhaps the actual pres- 
ence of a great university is a neces- 
sary antecedent, as, in educational 
matters, the supply must always pre- 
cede the demand. 

Another explanation of compara- 
tirely slow progress is found in the 
well-known fact that the xeligious, or, 
rather, the sectarian motive-power is 
generally the most efficient in excit- 
ing men to large henefactions. To 
seek after and declare the truth, irre- 
spectiyely of the outcome, is a proof 

8 



of advanced intellectual culture, and 
also of an impersonal desire to do 
good. To feel such faith in truth, 
whether in philosophy or science, as 
to trust it to go alone, without the 
duly certified ecclesiastical leading- 
strings, is a rare attainment. 

The clear and ohtrusive announce- 
ment, that a college, or university, is 
unsectarian, must therefore he a seri- 
ous hindrance to its early and rapid 
progress. At first, it will not he be- 
lieved, and only serves to excite sus- 
picion or distrust. Afterward, when 
fully believed, if good education is 
given, the number of students may 
be large, and is sure to increase in 
exact proportion as the legitimate 
working of such an institution is b^ 
ter understood; but the number of 
"benefactors^' will continue to be 
small, perhaps for several generaifcions. 
Then, when the good seed sown shall 
have come to maturity, the fountains 
of generous wealth will open on 
every side with a steady and growing 
stream, as they are now just begin-> 
ning to do for the alma mater of 
colleges near Boston. 

How great a work has that time-hon- 
ored university done for Massachu- 
setts and New England, and the whole 
country I Not less, but, if possible, 
more important is that which Wash- 
ington University has undertaken to 
do in the region where it is estab- 
lished. It may, perhaps, have to 
wait long for the financial strength, 
which alone it needs for the right ac- 
complishment of its task ; but, work-^ 
ing in the " Great Taskmaster's eye,'' 
we humbly hope that some kind hearts 
will be moved, either at home or 
abroad, and some strong hand be 
stretched out, to forestall the slow 
working of time, by giving to this 
healthy young institution the present 
means to perform the highest educa* 



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>n 



tional work for the present genera- 
tion. Such an act, whether regarded 
as one of philanthropy, patriotism, or 
Christian service, woijdfind its abun- 
dant reward in the good accom* 
plished. 

There are some kinds of work 
which cannot be safely delayed. If 
not done at the right time, they can 
never be well done. The opportunity 
is lost, and the penalty of neglect must 
be endured. No degree of industry 
and skill can do in July the work that 
belongs to April and May. If child- 
hood and youth are neglected, schools 
and colleges can do but little for ma- 
ture years. If a rapidly-growing 
community is left to the materialistic 
tendencies of a mere " practical " and 
external prosperity, without the con- 
servative and corrective influende of 
a higher moral and intellectual civili- 
zation, the permanent deterioration 
of society is the unavoidable result. 
It is not too much to say, therefore, 
that the future national character of 
the American Union depends, to a 
considerable and appreciable degree, 
upon the kind of influences brought 
to bear upon the rising generation in 
the Western States. 

An instructive example, worthy of 
being quoted in this connection, has 
just been given in St. Louis by Arch- 
bishop Kenrick of the Roman Catho- 
lic Church. Having learned that a 
great many children of the Catholic 
poor are brought under what he con- 
siders bad religious influences in the 
city reformatory institutions, and by 
neglect of their parents, he has.st^- 
pended action already begun for the 
erection of a grand metropolitan cathe- 
dral, until a " children's protectorate " 
shall have been flrst established and 
put into operation ; and every thing is 
now going rapidly forward to that be- 
neficent end. While the cathedral was 



building, a whole generation of boys 
and girls might be lost. Is not that, 
at his point of view, good Christian 
logic ? We honor him for his decis- 
ion. 

With the same wisdom of foresight, 
the Jesuit brotherhood are now en- 
larging the plans of St. Louis Uni- 
versity, their chief institution for 
boys and young men, with the view 
of making it the largest and most 
complete in the country. Equal exer- 
tions are making for female educa- 
tion ; and every thing is conducted on 
a scale proportionate to the expected 
growth and importance of the city 
itself. Ko one can reasonably find 
fault with this. The Catholic Church 
is faithfully striving to do its appoint- 
ed work at the right time. If Prot- 
estants are disposed to declaim against 
it, the only American answer to them 
is, " Go, and do thou likewise.'' 

The university which is the main 
topic of this article gives another il- 
lustration in point. It was organized 
in 1853, and since that time has done 
great and good service. In this pe- 
riod, it has had under its charge sev- 
eral thousand pupils; hundreds of 
whom are now among the leading 
citizens of St. Louis, and the majority 
of whom are likely, from their social 
position, to become such. It has, 
also, as an institution of learning, 
founded upon right principles, and 
in the main, well conducted, done a 
great deal towards giving a right 
tone to education, and is at present 
doing more than at any previous time. 
Yet it is strictly true that there has 
been no year since 1855 when it 
would have been at all possible for the 
enterprise to have been begun. Those 
who are familiar with the social and 
financial history of St. Louis will un- 
derstand why this assertion can be so 
confidently made. 



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In like manner, we see that oppor- 
tunity for immeasurably greater work 
is given now, if done quickly. What 
may be the condition of things, and 
who will be the workers, ten years 
hence, no one can say. 

One million of dollars, added to its 
present endowment, if properly invest- 
ed, would secure to Washington Uni- 
versity, in five years, time and ever 
afterwards, a commanding influence 
throughout the Mississippi Valley, 



and go far towards making St. Louis 
what it ought to be, — a metropolis of 
teaming and art, as well as of com- 
mercial strength. We live in the 
steadfast conviction that what ought 
to be done will be done, at the right 
time and in the right manner; and 
that those to whom the ability is al- 
ready given will have the disposition 
thus to consecrate the " mammon of 
unrighteousness " to the cause of hu- 
manity and truth. 



IPSIE. 



BY H. A. BEBTON. 



The city of Biggin's Bend offered 
superior inducements to those who 
loved tranquillity and retirement In 
front, and to the right and left, lay 
the yellow Mississippi, on either bank 
of which, as far as the eye could reach, 
was a thicket of young cotton wood- 
trees. When the river was low, a 
band of brown mud separated the 
changeless yellow of the water from 
the unvarying green of the cotton- 
woods : when the river was high, the 
brown mud disappeared, and less 
than usual of the green was visible. 
Ko other diversity of landscape was 
noticeable or possible. 

When one turned from the natural 
features of the Bend to its society, the 
same conservatism was found. The 
inhabitants, exclusive of animals and 
chickens, were three, — Sam Kawery, 
Mrs. Kawery, and their daughter 
Mary Jane. 

' Once in a while, Sam went hunting ; 
once a month he walked to Larke/s 
Cross Beads, five miles ofi^, to trade 
skins, furs, and cotton, for sugar, cof- 
fee, whiskey, tobacco, and other neces- 



sities of life ; occasionally he cultivat- 
ed a little com and cotton, and killed 
a pig : but the few people who came 
to the Bend were pretty sure to find 
Sam on a bench in front of the house, 
smoking serenely, and tenderly cher- 
ishing one knee. 

Mrs. Kawery, with a cob-pipe in 
her mouth, could generally be found 
before the fire, watching the cookery 
(when any was going on), and reading 
Benson's Commentaries, and other 
good books, when she was at leisure. 

But Mary Jane, nicknamed Ipsie, 
was not a creature of such admirable 
regularity : in fact, her good mother 
occasionally remarked with some im- 
patience, " ' Stonishin' the places that 
gal ken find to be in when she's 
wanted for any thin' I " There were 
no neighbors within five miles: so 
Ipsie had formed a confidential ac- 
quaintanceship with certain of the 
dogs and chickens. She examined her 
father's fish-lines half a dozen times 
a day, and threw them out again in 
frrightful tangles ; sat in her father's 
skifij and caught the rollers sent in by 



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36 



passing steamboats; carved gourds 
into bird-houses, and climbed into all 
sorts of breakneck places to locate 
them ; and made lively use of the few 
remaining resourced of tne Bend. 

Where Ipsie found the light of her 
eyes, and the bloom of her cheeks, and 
the tender lines at the comer of her 
mouth, was a mystery ; but girls are 
always finding such things in out-of- 
the-way places: perhaps they were 
given her for the purpose of proving, 
that, unlikely as it might seem, the 
* Lord had really visited Biggin's Bend. 
It was equally a mystery where she 
learned what little she knew. The 
"Cross Roads Gronfalon" — blessed 
be scissors ! — occasionally told her 
of ladies clothed unlike herself, and 
of men different from any of the an- 
gular tobacco-chewers who occasion- 
ally straggled into the Bend. And 
once in a while, at night, some enter- 
prising engineer would drive his boat 
staggering past the Bend, with two 
great yellow sparkling streamers trail- 
ing across the silver and black of the 
sky, leaving Ipsie's great dark eyes 
dreaming for a week. Occasionally 
a boat would touch at the Bend to 
t-ake or leave a passenger belonging 
at the Cross Boads ; and then, from 
behind a friendly tree, Ipsie would see, 
perhaps, two or three pretty children 
playing on the guards, perhaps a lady 
with a dress not of calico or the Cross 
Koads style, or perhaps a bride, with 
eyes and hair like her own, leaning 
on the shoulder of some one who did 
not look the least bit like any of the 
boys at the Cross Roads. 

For several years there had been 
slowly working, through the miasma 
and tobacco-smoke which enveloped 
Sam Kawery's miixd, the idea that 
his daughter might be in need of ad- 
vantages not afforded at the Bend ; 
and the effect of long thought on this 



subject worked Sam up to such a 
pitch, that he one day took his pipe 
from his mouth, and said, — 

" M'riar, somethin' ort to be done 
for Ips.'' 

"I know it, Sam/' replied his 
wife. 

Then, after the manner of most 
people acquiescing in any statement, 
theyfelt as if they had done their duty. 

But ideas are restless, even on the 
Mississippi ; and the resistless power 
of trjith was demonstrated by the fact, 
that, six months later, Sam Kawery 
took his pipe from his mouth, and 
said, — 

" ]VFriar, somethin' ort to be done 
for Ipsie." 

And M'riar again replied, — 

" I know it, Sam." 

Sam puffed a few moments longer, 
apd then astonished the echoes of 
Biggin's Bend by asking, — 

"What's it to be?" 

And M'riar again faced the situa- 
tion, and said, — 

"That's the question." 

M'riar went further : she gave vent 
to an opinion she had held for many 
years, by remarking, — 

" She needs religion." 

His wife's words awoke in Sam's 
mind the memory of gamblers, steam- 
boat-captains, flatboatmen, and other 
sinners he had known ; and a mental 
view of Ipsie standing among these 
affected him so powerfully, that he 
concentrated a great deal of indigna- 
tion, pity, and contempt into the single 
word, — 

"Mebbe!" 

Mrs. Kawery had no idea of argu- 
ing with her husband; but, to stay 
her own soul in the faith, she repeated 
as solemnly as a cracked voice would 
allow, — 

" All mankind is bom in sin, an' 
by natur under the wrath " — 



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Sam Eawery astonished his wife 
by actually speaking before she had 
finished her quotation. 

" M7riar," said he, " that wuz writ 
fdi deck-hands and the boys at the 
Cross Boads ; but Ipsie ain't jmankind 
at alL She's a woman, or goin' to 
be ; an' some day she'll want a husband, 
an' she ort to hev a good 'im. Her 
mother got a good-fiir-nothin' shote ; 
an' one in a fam'ly^s " — 

Just here Sam was interrupted ; for 
loTB, whose wings seem as much at 
home in tobacco-smoke as in the 
perfumedairof rose-gardens, prompted 
Mrs. Kawery to get up and lay a great 
kiss right across her husband's lips. 

" Ef she gets ez good a man ez her 
mother did, she'll do well," said Mrs. 
Kawery, as 8i?on as her lips were dis- 
engaged from their rather unusual 
occupation. " An' yet," she continued, 
her dim eyes looking a shade more 
weaiy than ever, ''I don't want no 
daughter o' mine to spend all her days 
ez mine hes ben. 'Tain't no fault o' 
youm, Sam." 

But Sam felt guilty; and, never 
having studied logic, he did not know 
how to argue himself out of his sense 
of wrong: so his contrition moved 
him to press the faithful old head 
dose to his breast. A rap at the door 
ended this conjugal tableau ; and S^m 
shouted, — 

"Come in!" 

The door opened -, and an unusual 
looking young man appeared. He 
had blue eyes and light hair, and a 
smooth, clean face ; while his dress, 
though of common material, was sus- 
piciously clean. Sam promptly de- 
termined that he was neither a Cross 
Boads man, a boatman, a gambler, nor 
a peddler; and, as Sam knew no 
phases of humanity but these, his con- 
jecture had drifted into wonder, when 
the stranger abruptly said, — 



" I am a laborer in the vineyard of 
the Lord, and am seeking for ' the lost 
sheep of the house of Israel.' " 

Sam looked appealingly at his wife. 
It seemed to him he had heard some 
such words when he was young, and 
hung about the meeting-house door at 
night; but, if they were holy, his wife 
was the Bible-reader of the family, 
and must know. Mrs. Kawery re- 
lieved her husband's mind by devout- 
ly saying, — 

" Bless the Lord fur sendin' ye ! " 

"Certinly," said Sam quite brisk- 
ly. " Chuck yer traps in the comer, 
captin: hev a cheer? Here's tub- 
baiker. Mother, pass out the demi- 
john." 

" Thank you ! " said the stranger ; 
" but I neither drink nor smoke." 

Sam looked disgusted ; but, a bright 
thought striking him, he hurried to a 
closet, and took down a pack of cards. 
His pious wife flew at him in an in- 
stant. 

" Sam 1 " said she in a reproachful 
undertone, " one 'ud think you'd ben 
raised among the heathen. Preachers 
don't play keards." 

Sam looked humbly into the face 
of superior wisdom, and meekly 
asked, — 

<^ Don't they, though ? " 

" No, nur drink nur smoke nuther." 

" Well," said Sam, resignedly lay- 
ing down the cards. Then he rejoined 
the young man, looking at him with 
that hungry expression which solitary 
people always bestow upon a new 
face, and said, — 

" Well, mister — mister " — 

" Breeton," answered the stranger, 
— " Walter Breeton, circuit rider, and 
member of the Easter River Confer- 
ence." 

"Well, Mr. Breeton, what's the 
news?" 

"I do not keep pace with the 



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march of events," answered the young 
preacher. "To save souls for my 
heavenly Master is the one object of 
my life. Are there any professors in 
this house ? " 

Sam jerked a thumb toward his 
wife, inwardly wishing the preacher 
had a side which a man could get at 
in some way. 

" Ah, sister ! " said the young man, 
" are you a follower of the Lamb ? " 

"Follerin' afar off, as it were," 
tearfully replied Mrs. Kavvery. "I 
wish my light shined better, so Sam 
an' Ipsie might come into the fold! 
I've labored hard with both of 'em ; 
but their eyes seems to be darkened, 
p'tic'larly Ipsie's." 

" Ipsie ? "' queried the preacher. 

" Yes, sir, — our gal : she's " — 

Further explanation was rendered 
unnecessary by the appearance in the 
doorway of Ipsie herself, and her 
sudden disappearance. 

" Mustn't mind Ips, Brother Bree- 
ton," said Mrs. Kawery. " She ain't 
used to strangers; an' she oUus gits 
out. She'll come aroun' in the even- 
in'." 

"Well," said the young man, re- 
marking to himself, " I sincerely hope 
she will." 

" Guess well hev a bite pooty 
soon," said Mrs. Kawery, " Sam, see 
ef ther's any thin' on the lines." 

Sam hurried out, and found a fine 
young cat-fish; and, while he was 
cleaning it, Mrs. Kawery put some 
corn-meal dough into a Dutch oven on 
the hearth, and a lot of biscuit into 
another Dutch oven, and some slices 
of bacon into a frying-pan, and put 
the fish into the same pan, and made 
coffee, and brought out a dish of 
honey and a tin cup of persimmons, 
and was soon proudly contemplating 
a table loaded with all the luxuries of 
the land ; while the mingled odors of 



fried bacon and warm saleratus drove 
the smell of tobacco-smoke entirely 
out of the room. Then Sam went 
to the door, and blew a horn; and, 
in a moment or two, Ipsie appear- 
ed. 

'"Ipsie," said her mother, "this is 
Mr. Breeton, thet's come down here to 
save sinners. I hope he'll do yer soul 
good." 

The young preacher hopqd so too, 
as he notiped Ipsie's bright eyes and 
blushing cheeks. 

" Come, stranger, hev a bite," said 
Sam, who felt that his chance of par- 
taking in the conversation was grow- 
ing small. " Hev plenty of ham-fat 
with yer fish ? " 

" Sam ! " cried Mrs. Kawery. 

Sam dropped his knife and fork, 
and appealed from under the lowest 
hairs of his eyebrows. 

" Ask a blessin'. Brother fereeton," 
said Mrs. Kawery, looking sorrowful- 
ly upon her partner. 

Walter Breeton asked the blessings 
of the Lord on the food before them ; 
and Ipsie, who had never heard any 
thing of the sort before, stared in such 
astonishment, that when the preacher 
concluded, and cast his eyes towards 
her, her eyes were so fixed, that she 
could not withdraw them until she 
had done a great deal of painful 
blushing; seeing which, Mr. Breeton 
blushed himself, and knew he did, 
and punished himself by vowing to 
strive to transplant this fair fiower to 
the garden of the Lord. 

"' Sam," said Mrs. Kawery, " p'raps 
the preacher ken tell us what to do 
for Ips ? " 

Sam drew his knife through a piece 
of corn-bread with more deliberation 
than he usually displayed at table; 
and he looked as if he thought the 
matter extremely doubtful. Still his 
wife had commenced the subject, and 



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he couldn't get away firoiD it : so he 
finally said, — 

" P'raps so. Fact is, mister, Ips is 
•-gpowin' np; an' she ort to hev a 
chance." 

"Very true," replied the young 
minister. " She should, of all things, 
he taught of the Spirit; hut every 
yotmg person is henefited hy secular 
education, no matter how little." 

"I guess that's so," said Sam, 
thinking that any thing with some 
hig words and the true ring must he 
correct; "but how's she to get this 
sic — sic — sic — what-d'ye-call-it ed- 
dication ? Ther* ain't no schools here ; 
an' I wouldn't hev her go to the Cross 
Boads every day." 

"Our Conference Seminary would 
give her an excellent education at a 
moderate price, and afford her the in- 
ei>timable advantages of the constant 
ministry of the Word." 

"Mod'rit price, eh?" said Sam, 
wickedly ohlivious to what had fol- 
lowed. " Whaf s the damages ? " 

"I believe two hundred dollars a 
year includes" — 

" Two hundred dollars I Judas an' 
tar-buckets ! " exclaimed Sam. " Why, 
thafs more money than I've seed this 
four year." 

"It is a great pity," said the 
preacher, "that filthy lucre should 
come between a precious soul and its 
education. She might take a course 
of study at home, with the help of 
her parents." 

<*Dou'fle," said Sam. "Eeadin', 
writin', an' doin' sums, is all me an' 
Ifriar knows ; an' Ips knows them 
a'ready." 

For a few moments, Walter Breeton 
regarded the edge of his plate so 
ihoughtfuUy, that his hostess was in 
agony lest a red ant had ventured 
upon the crockery. Finally the min- 
ister raised his eyes^ and said^ — 



" I have had some experience in 
teaching; and I might give her a pre- 
paratory course myself. I am going 
to hold a two-weeks' protracted meet- 
ing at the Cross Roads ; and I might 
come over here for a couple of hours 
each morning, and teach her from 
such rudimentary volumes as I may 
be able to procure at the Cross Roads. 
I should charge nothing for my ser- 
vices." 

"By gum, mister!" said Sam, 
" that's what I call religion ; but we 
wouldn't think of putting you to so 
much trouble," ' 

" I should not consider it trouble," 
said the young preacher quickly, " to, 
peradventure, enable intelligence to 
make straighter the path of the Lord.? 

" Well," said Sam, " it's a bargain, 
then, ef you'll let me purvide a critter 
fur ye to ride back and forth on." 
• To this the preacher assented. As 
for Ipsie, she failed to exhibit a lau- 
dable pleasure in the prospect of edu- 
cation. " The Gonfalon's " scissors fre- 
quently found stories whose heroij;ies 
had lately escaped from boarding- 
schools, and who wrote gushing letters 
descriptive of the horrors of knowl- 
edge-getting. And yet the young 
preacher, seemed as if he couldn't be 
very dreadful. Every time she caught 
his eye, or he caught hers, he seemed 
pleasanter than before ; and when, after 
reading a chapter in the Bible, and 
offering a prayer, the young maCn bade 
the family good-by, to return in the 
morning, if one of Sam's friends (to 
whom the preacher bore a.note) could 
supply a horse, Ipsie almost wished 
for morning and school-time. 

The air of the next day had barely 
been scented by Sam's first pipe, 
when the clatter of hoofs announced 
the approach of the preacher. Ipsie 
immediately retreated to the corn- 
field, from which she was promptly 



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Ipsie. 



dragged back by her mother to 
find Mr. Breeton unwrapping some 
books. 

" I have brought," said he, " works 
on geography, history, and elocu- 
tion, besides an introductory treatise 
on grammar; and I believe, that, with 
fair attention, your daughter will in 
a fortnight be able \o continue these 
studies without assistance. But, as 
every good and perfect gift cometh 
firom above, let us first invoke the 
divine blessing on our efforts.'' And 
he made a short prayer, after which 
Mrs. Kawery disappeared, taking 
her husband with her, and leaving 
Ipsie and her new tutor alone. 

Walter Breeton soon discovered 
that his pupil was encumbered by no 
false principles or incorrect teachings : 
so he delightedly prefaced the lesson 
on geography with the Mojsaic ac- 
count of the creation ; condensed the' 
history of the Jews, the Church, and 
the Reformation, before he opened the 
text-book on American history ; and 
^read chapters of Isaiah and of St. 
John's Gospel to illustrate elocution- 
ary principles. And the pupil sat in 
mute, open-eyed wonder : it seemed to 
her he must be a hundred years old, 
he knew so much. She was not a bit 
a&aid of him, though ; for he was not 
at all like the teachers in books. He 
asked all questions in the gentlest of 
tones and with the kindest of looks : 
and when she said, " I don't know," 
as she was compelled to do in answer 
to most of his questions, he acted as 
if it was the answer he had always 
been accustomed to. 

As for Breeton himself, he found 
his pupil far more intelligent and 
attentive than any he had ever taught ; 
for, in the graded school of his native 
village, he had taught only classes of 
small boys, whose grades were mostly 
of stupidity. But Ipsie's great dark 



eyes seemed to be taking in every 
thing he said ; and it was decidedly 
pleasant to have such eyes fixed on 
one, and such close attention given to 
instruction. Why could he not teach 
her the wisdom of all wisdom ? He 
closed the books, looked earnestly into 
her eyes, and said, — 

" My dear young friend, the teach- 
ings of these books are not to be 
despised ; but let me impress upon 
your mind the importance of the 
Book of books, an4 the value of its 
teachings : may it be a light under 
your feet and a lamp unto your path- 
way I " 

" I'm jrfraid I don't know what you 
mean," said Ipsie timidly. 

" I mean," said the young preacher, 
with a pitying sense of his superiority 
over the ignorant girl, " that it will 
be unto you an ark of safety, into 
which you can flee." 

Ipsie still looked unenlightened. 

"Do you not comprehend my 
meaning?" said Breeton, with far 
more patience than he usually ex- 
hibited toward stupidity. "I mean, 
it teaches you of Christ, and how, by 
faith in him, you will be enabled to 
pass from death unto life." 

" Teaches me what ? " asked Ipsie, 
with a timidity painful to witness. 

" Teaches you of the Lamb of Grod, 
that taketh away the sins of the 
world," said the preacher, his face 
lighting up with pious enthusiasm. 

Ipsie burst into tears. The young 
preacher exclaimed, " Bless the Lord ! " 
Now, at last, he had been graciously 
pleased to send conviction. But 
Breeton's ardor was suddenly cooled ; 
for the weeping girl exclaimed, — 

" I know I'm awful stupid ; but I 
don't understand a bit what you say." 

Breeton sighed. " My poor girl," 
he said, "you must ask God for light ; 
you must lay hold of the horns of the 



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altar. Wrestle with the angel, and 
do not let him go." 

"I don't make that out, either," 
sobbed Ipsie. 

" That is because the Adversary is 
striTing to retain dominion over you," 
said Breeton. "6ut by faith lay 
hold of the promises, and make your- 
self a joint-heir, with Him, of eternal 
life." 

By this time Ipsie's mortification 
had thrown her into suph a violent fit 
of crying, that she was unable to pro* 
claim her ignorance any farther ; and 
Breeton knelt, and earnestly besought 
the Lord to cast the scales from the 
eyes of the sorrowing one, to wash 
her in the blood of the Lamb, and to 
feed her with the bread jof life. Then 
he mounted his horse, and rode back 
to the Cross Eoads, sorrowfully mus- 
ing on the dominion the Prince of 
this world had over the souls of his 
subjects. The thought stimulated 
him to more earnest endeavor; and 
though, in his sermon that night, he 
innocently clouded the Lord by a 
mass of verbiage which even those 
who knew it best comprehended but 
dimly, his earnestness prevailed upon 
many, and led them to seek Him 
whose power is perhaps best manifested 
by the ease with which he makes him- 
self visible — despite the thick veils 
which men place between him and 
his creatures — to all who really wish 
to find him. And in the morning 
he rode back to the Bend, believing 
that the Lord was with him, and that 
he would make straight the way of his 
handmaiden. 

Sam Kawery gazed upon the young 
man with plainly visible disfavor. 

" Mister," said Sam, " Ips hez ben 
a-askin' the mother an' me what some 
of the things you've ben a-sayin' to 
her means ; an' neither of us can tell 
her, though the mother tells her they- 



're all right. Now, I hain't got no 
objections to her hevin' Bible lamin' ; 
but what I want to know is, Ain't 
ther no plain English in the Bible 
nowhar? or is it writ only for fel- 
lers thaf s ben to college ? 'Pears to 
me a good deal like talkin' Dutch , — 
the Dutchmen understand it them- 
selves ; but nobody else does." 

Just then there sauntered out of 
the house a middle-aged, well-dressed 
man, who bowed to Breeton, and 
said, — 

"Going by the boat, sir?" 

"No, sir," replied Breton. 

" I am," said the stranger ; " aQd I 
suppose I can wait a day longer in 
this confounded hole." 

" I am a minister of the gospel," 
said Breeton, " and am at present tu- 
tor to our hosf s daughter." 

" Indeed ! " said the stranger. " I 
sympathize with you; for eighteen 
months after I left Yale " — 

" Yale ? " interrupted Breeton : " you 
must have enjoyed rare spiritual ad- 
vantages." 

"Um — oh, yes! certainly," said 
the stranger. "But somehow they 
never seemed to benefit me much. 
The fact is, I was so puzzled and con- 
fused about religious matters, that I 
never knew what to believe ; and I 
don't know to this day." 

" Mr. " began Breeton. 

" Hartinger," said the stranger. 

"Mr. Hartinger, would you object 
to joining with us in prayer ? " 

"Not in the least," replied Mr, 
Hartinger. 

Breeton called the family together, 
and delivered a short but earnest 
prayer. Sam's strictures were still 
fresh in his mind; and he found, in 
attempting to pray in different lan*- 
guage from what he usually used, he 
made several awkward and painful 
pauses. After the prayer, Sam and 



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Mr. Haitinger adjourned to the 
bench to smoke; and Mrs. Kawery 
sought the cottoQ-patch. Breeton 
approached Ipsie, and took her hand 
tenderly. 

"My dear girl/' said he, "has the 
Adversary lefb you ? " 

" I guess not/' said she ; " leastways 
Fve been puzzlin' lay head all night, 
and haven't got any thing for my 
pains. If religion is intended for 
everybody, why isn't it ever talked 
about so any one can understand it ? " 

In his prayer, Breeton had realized 
that language, except such as he ha- 
bitually used, was not convenient to 
his tongue. He had determined to 
practise the utmost simplicity of 
speech ; and his intention was power- 
fully strengthened by the sight of Ip- 
sie's face, ilways handsome, but now, 
under the influence of trouble, made 
inexpressibly tender and womanly and 
pure. For a few moments, Breeton 
labored as he had never done before, 
yet only to clothe simple truths in 
simple language. In those few mo- 
ments he found, that, during his min- 
istry, he had been fondly repeating 
sentences which had no meaning to 
most of his hearers ; had been using 
obsolete figure^ of speech ; had been 
making references, and drawing simi- 
les, which no one but a theologian, or 
a Jew skilled in the literature of his 
forefathers, could have comprehended ; 
and had been sealing up the fountain 
from which he implored people to 
drink. 

" My child," said he at length very 
slowly, "God made the world, and 
us, and every thing we have and need. 
He asks no pay of us except our love ; 
and he asks us to prove our love by 
doing right. The Bible tells us a 
great deal about right and wrong; 
our consciences tell us a great 
deal; and our experience constantly 



instructs us. God wants us to regard 
him ad a father ; and he showed his 
great love for us by sending Christ to 
live on earth, like other people, and 
to die for our sakes. G^ is a real 
being ; and, though we cannot see him, 
we can become acquainted with him, 
if we show by our thoughts and ac- 
tions we want to be. And he wants 
us all to go to him when we die, and 
to be with him forever." 

"That's al| plain: I understand 
all that/' said Ipsie. 

"Then you understand all I can 
tell you," said Breeton. 

" But fche horns of the altar, and 
the ark of safety, and passing from 
death to life, and the blood of the 
Lamb, and ^i^reetlin' with the angel, 
and" — 

" They all mean only what I have 
already told you," said the young 
minister, blushing guiltily under the 
half-indignant look the wondering 
girl gave him ; " but I have been fool- 
ish enough to suppose these figures of 
speech were as familiar to others as 
to me." 

" But there's free-will and election, 
and all those things mother's big black 
books tell about/' said Ipsie. 

" Those matters are God's business, 
and not ours," replied Breeton ; " and 
no one ever gained any thing by med- 
dling with them. God does not ex- 
pect you to know every thing, but 
rather to love with all your strength. 
Do you suppose your father and mother 
love you any less because you do not 
know all they do ? " 

"No/' said Ipsie, with an absent 
look in her face, which made Breeton 
think she would, for a little while, be 
her own best company. As he stepped 
out of the house, Sam Kawery con- 
fronted him. 

"Mister," said he, "the door bein' 
open, I heerd all you've ben a-sayin'. 



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Do you mean to say that's all? that 
Ips, or anybody else, don't need to go 
loDin' on the groun' at camp-meetin', 
or hey a tremendous 'sperience some 
way, Yore they're safe? Ain't ther 
nothin' to do 'xcept make up yer 
mind to turn aroun', an' row 'tother 
way?" 

« Thaf s all," said Breeton, « except 
that, after turning, you must row, and 
keep at it, and pot let yourself drift 
with the current." 

" Shouldn't wonder then," said Sam, 
strolling slowly away, " if I could he 
a Christian mysel£" 

Breeton was offering a silent prayer, 
when a slap between the shoulders 
interrupted him. 

" Breeton," said Mr. Hartinger, " I 
was myself an unintentional hearer 
of your little sermon; and I must 
thank you for 'the clearest religious 
statement I have ever heard. But, if 
this is all, what becomes of the arti- 
cles of faith ? and which is the one 
true church ? " 

" I am too young a convert to an- 
swer many questions," replied Bree- 
ton : " but honest opinions about reli- 
gion do not, of themselves, constitute 
religion ; and, as for the true church, 
it is in the hearts of His people." 

"Noble young heretic, consistent 
young Christian ! " exclaimed Hartin- 
ger, seizing Breeton's hand. 

It was time for Breeton to start 
again for the Cross Boads, yet he was 



very loath to go. He had learned 
more within an hour than in his 
whole seminary course ; and, while he 
was reverently thankful to the Great 
Teacher, he felt considerable human 
gratitude toward Ipsie. He started 
to find her, and express his thankful- 
ness. He re-entered the house, and 
found her still sitting where he had 
left her. 

" Ipsie," said he, in a tone, which, 
though very tender, startled the girl, 
" I have attempted to teach you ; but 
you have given me the most valuable 
lesson I have ever had: you have 
taught me to speak plain English. 
But I shall have many relapses into 
my old habits ; and I know of no one 
else who will correct me. Will you 
doit — for life?" 

Ipsie said nothing, but blushed. 
The young preacher looked appeal- 
ingly ; and her blushes grew deeper. 
Still she said nothing ; but as, when 
Mrs. Kawery came in to set the din- 
ner-table, she found Ipsie's head on 
Breeton's shoulder, and the young 
man not the least bit ashamed of it, 
it seemed evident that Ipsie had ao 
cepted the situation. 

Ipsie was never made professor of 
English in a theological seminary; 
ibut she did the world good service in 
revising her husband's sermons, and 
did far more for God and humanity 
than did any other member of the 
Easter Biver Conference. 



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Coercion in the Later Stages of Education. 



COEECION m THE LATER STAGES OF EDUCATION. 

J. p. QUmCY. 



There is a &miliar Latin line 
which makes summary disposition of 
those unscrupulous persons who have 
presumed to say our good things be- 
fore us. But a comprehensive form 
of anathema to be directed against 
those who say our good things after 
us is still a desideratum. Until this 
great deficiency has been supplied, 
men ^ould possess their souls in pa- 
tience. And so, when we read in our 
newspaper that the learned court has 
pronounced a decision of immense 
wisdom, and of unspeakable impor- 
tance to the nation, it is well to join 
with the genecal acclamation over the 
bench of Daniels that Heaven has 
sent us. But it is not well to forget 
the patient laborers at anonymous 
journalism who anticipated that en- 
lightened judgment by some score of 
years, and fortified it with arguments 
which the gentlemen in authority have 
at length done them the honor to adopt. 
More years ago than it is quite 
pleasant to specify, a few persons of 
my acquaintance made an exhaustive 
examination of a certain American 
college. As we had determined to' 
do our work thoroughly, you will 
understand that we avoided the blun- 
der of getting letters of introduction 
to official personages, and inspecting 
only what tliey chose to show us. 
We happened to hit upon the very 
plan which has since been adopted 
by Mr. Greenwood, the amateur casual, 
as well as by " The Tribune '^ reporter 
who feigned madness in order to ex- 
amine the workings of an asylum 
from the inside. We caused ourselves 
to be put into the institution that we 
desired to inspect. You will see that 
we must have been pretty clever fel- 



lows to have staid there four years 
without getting found out; but the 
prospect of being able to form intelli- 
gent opinions upon all disputed points 
connected with college education, fur- 
nished a stimulus for our best effort. 
Well, much other business has since 
engaged the members of that com- 
mittee ; and somehow it has happened 
that the report of our investigations 
has never been published in full. 
But, heartily concurring in its gener- 
al conclusions, we have all held cer- 
tain decisive views about college mat- 
ters, for the acceptance of which — 
according to our private capacities 
and opportunities — "^^e have endeav- 
ored to prepare the world. And at 
length the hour has struck. Li his 
last Annual Report, the president of 
Harvard College ventures upon an ob- 
servation which has long been a com- 
monplace among many persons who 
have tried to understand the require- 
ments of the later education in America. 
With due official caution. President 
Eliot finds it "not unreasonable to 
hope " that the venerable institution 
of which he has proved so efficient a 
head "will soon get entirely rid of a 
certain schoolboy spirit, which is not 
found in the professional schools, and 
which seems to have its roots in the 
enforced attendance upon recitations, 
lectures, and religious exercises." 
And after speaking of the practice 
of foreign universities, and of the 
average age of admission to Harvard, 
a notable paragraph is closed with this 
sentence : " Whenever it appears • 
that a college rule^ or method, of 
general application, is persevered in 
only for the sake of the least promis- 
ing and worthy students, there la 



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good reason to suspect that that rule, 
or method, has been outgrown." 
Sound as this concluding proposition 
undoubtedly is, it seems to contain an 
implication fix)m which many would 
dissent. It is my own conviction, 
that, while the reform indicated would 
undoubtedly be profitable for the best 
scholars, it would be still more advan- 
tageous for ^' the least promising and 
worthy students'' who should he 
allowed to enter, or permitted to re- 
main in, our highest institutions for 
education. The statement is here 
limited by the conditions italicized, 
out of respect to the clear and earnest 
presentation of opposing views by the 
president of Princeton College, whose 
letter, evoked by President Eliofs 
remarks, is familiar to all who follow 
our educational literature. We have 
no need, then, to consider that convic- 
tion of certain eminent minds, which 
found expression in the assertion of 
Adam Smith, that " after twelve or 
thirteen years, provided the master 
does his duty, force or restraint can 
scarce ever be necessary to carry on 
any part of education." We need 
not meddle with the question. How 
far coercive institutions, such as Dr. 
McCosh approves, may be suited to 
larger numbers of American youth. 
It is enough to assert that there is a 
very respectable class, both in number 
and intelligence, to whose needs they 
are not adapted. Let us have coercive 
seminaries, so far as may be required. 
Let them be called high schools, 
academies, colleges, or what you 
please : it is foolish to wrangle over 
names. But, in addition to these, let 
us have at least one educational centre 
whose methods are essentially differ- 
ent. The time is ripe for an Ameri- 
can university that shall worthily 
represent the highest intellectual life 
of the nation. To secure this, some 



temporary inconveniences, and some 
risks of partial failure, may be well 
encountered. Even the statistical 
and popular success dear to catalogue- 
makers may be wisely* perilled in 
securing a higher level for future 
effort. Ultimate recognition com- 
manded by broadest usefulness will 
surely be given, if the proverb is 
boldly reversed, and no corpus vile 
taken for the experiment. 

How far our national centre of the 
highest knowledge should be formed 
after a foreign model is a matter for 
discussion. It may be remarked, 
that Dr. McCosh's estimate of the 
German university, \<rho8e imitation 
he seems to deprecate, is quite cordial 
enough. " Berlin," he tells us, " with 
its two hundred teachers, can furnish 
high instruction in every department 
of human learning. It is the very 
place for an American youth to go, 
when, having taken his degree at 
home, he wishes to perfect himself in 
some special department of human 
learning." If we give its full mean- 
ing to this last sentence, — a mean- 
ing that it may not have been intended 
to convey, — we touch the rooted con- 
viction upon which advocates of 
nobler standards in our home educa- 
tion base their demands; for it is 
emphatically denied, that any Eu- 
ropean capital is " the very place for 
an American youth to go " during the 
most critical period of his develop- 
ment. There is always peril in send- 
ing young men beyond the reach of 
the moral sentiment of their nation- 
ality.* Its subtle influence is wanted 
to lend strength jto the feeble will, and 
to separate right from wrong by sharp 
outlines. ' It is humiliating to reflect 
how much the best of us are indebted 
for our good conduct to the whole- 
some public opinion in the presence 
of which we expect to live. Those 



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Coercion in the l^ler Stages of Uducation. 



who know the temptations of student 
life in the continental cities long 
for the day when our university edu- 
cation at home will leave no pretext 
for this dangerous expatriation. 

But it is not the German univer- 
sity as it exists in Europe, hut that 
university improved, and adapted to 
our wants hy strict periodical exami- 
nations, whose claims have found ad- 
vocates. And here is thrust forward 
the evil of cramming, that examina- 
tions are alleged to induce. It is dif- 
ficult for many persons of mature life 
to look at this objection judicially, from 
the fact that a large portion of their 
own college examinations were passed 
hy cramming ; and this, perhaps, by 
the connivance of those who directed 
them. The causes of this ancient 
deception are not far to seek. Marks 
for recitations were considered ade- 
quate tests of scholarship ; and exam- 
inations were degraded to exhibitions. 
The teacher — whether owing to his 
own fault, or to that of the system in 
which he was obliged to work — was 
unwilling that the true results of his 
course should appear. It was, per- 
haps, thought desirable that a given 
institution should be kept on a nu- 
merical equality with some rival; 
or it seemed best that certain youths 
of idle habits, who could command 
powerful social influences, should not 
be disgraced. But, whatever may 
have been the tnotives, there can be 
no doubt of the fact that examina- 
tions were often arranged with the 
special design of giving crammers a 
chance. And I do not exce^ the 
bounds of my personal knowledge in 
mentioning that college teachers have 
sometimes given their pupils very 
broad hints how and where to cram 
in order to make a show. But what- 
ever abuses have existed in the past, 
or exist to-day, few who have consid- 



ered the matter can doubt that exam- 
inations may be made tests of proficien- 
cy as nearly absolute as humanity can 
devise. They can be made to indicate 
the amount of knowledge that the 
mind has assimilated far more truly 
than any average of marks for parrot- 
like recitations from a text-book. In 
a report upon the civil service exam- 
ination, published in England in 1854, 
and bearing the signatures of such 
men as Lord Macaulay, Prof. Jowett, 
and Mr. Shaw Lefevre, occurs this 
emphatic declaration: '^Experience 
justifies us in pronouncing, that, if 
the examiners be well chosen, it is 
utterly impossible that the delusive 
show of knowledge, which is the 
effect of the process popularly called 
cramming, can ever be successful 
against real learning and ability.'' 
Even Dr. McCosh frankly admits that 
examinations can be so arranged as 
to render cramming impossible, but 
thinks that not one examiner in ten 
is capable of devising them. Al- 
though many experts totally differ 
with him in that estimate, the matter 
is worth no controversy. Suppose 
that only one examiner in twenty can 
prevent this fraud : the reply is obvi- 
ous, — "Let our national university 
employ the twentieth man." 

Two other objections of Dr. Mo- 
Cosh deserve a passing remark. 
"Everybody knows,'' he says, "that 
many young men enter college with- 
out any appreciation of study; and 
the college should seek to give them 
a taste for learning by requiring them 
to come into daily contact with kind 
and judicious instructors." Owing 
to the defective state of our prepara- 
tory schools, and the easy conditions 
for admission to many colleges, the 
first clause in the sentence is, un- 
happily, true ; but it scarcely touches 
President Eliot's hopes for the future. 



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Indeed^ it may be confidently afiirmed^ 
that, if the examination-papers pub- 
lished by Harvard College represent 
the real requirements for admission, it 
is impossible for {^plicants to enter 
without a decided "appreciation of 
study." That "the college should 
seek to give them a taste for learning " 
is a self-evident proposition. I believe 
that this should be done by indtidng 
sympathetic contact " with kind and 
judicious instructors." Whether this 
is best accomplished by compelling 
daily contact with them, is precisely 
the question in debate. 

And, finally. Dr. McGosh implies 
that temptations to idleness and dis- 
sipation are counteracted by the coer- 
cive system at present in vogue in 
our highest colleges. If this were 
true, it should at once settle the ques- 
tion. There is a sadder necrology to 
every college than that which gets 
published upon Commencement Day. 
The failure of what we call our best 
education to obtain mastery over thd 
vicious tendencies of himianity is sor- 
rowfully evident. We will cheerfully 
resign, as a poor dilettante delight, 
all hope of developing our 'choice 
intellects by finer methods, if it can 
be shown that the old system will 
insure us one self-controlled democrat 
the more, or one pilfering congress- 
man the less. It would indeed be 
a fool's bargain to abate a jot from 
the average moral character an in- 
stitution develops, to furnish knowl- 
edge in encyclopedic rations. But it 
is emphatically denied that an en- 
forced attendance upon a few daily 
exercises, and the ranking by recita- 
tion-marks, which belongs to the 
scheme, have any tendency to prevent 
dissipation in young men who would 
otherwise seek it. The wretched pre- 
tence of school-boy espionage — 
which under college conditions can be 



only a pretence — induces a school- 
boy sense of fun in outwitting the 
shallow device. The collection of 
hundreds of young men in a univer- 
sity town must necessarily offer temp- 
tations to dissipation that no compul- 
sions practicable to professors can 
appreciably reduce. But it is confi- ' 
dently maintained, that, in the case 
of students who are properly quali- 
fied for collegiate training, these 
temptations may be reduced to a 
minimum by lifting the relation. of 
teacher and pupil to a higher level. 
The attractions to sin must be met 
by those attractions to intellectual 
and moral effort which the genuine 
professor, when left to himself can 
bountifully supply. We are bound 
to distrust our ways of conducting 
the later education until a hearty 
co-operation in the purposes of col- 
lege-residence, instead of being the 
peculiarity of a minority; has become 
the pervading spirit of all. 

But the root of the disorder, which, 
more or* less apparently, results from 
the coercive system, is seldom hon- 
estly declared. It lies in the incom- 
petence of the best professors for 
administrative duties. It is painful 
to think how many men of noble 
gifts have been compelled to waste 
power in the blundering performance 
of work that should never have been 
required of them. Tlie eyeless Sam- 
son making sport for the Philistines is 
the prototype of men of rarer strength, 
obliged to fumble blindly before dis- 
cordant classes who were brimming 
over with that merry sense of incon- 
gruity with which youth is so gener- 
ously endowed. , We are slowly learn- 
ing that capital can never be forced 
into a given employment without be- 
ing forced out of some other employ- 
ment, and that it seeks spontane- 
ously its most profitable field. That 



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Caercwn in the Later Stages of EduccUion. 



costliest capita], the genius and 
knowledge of a great teacher, is sub- 
ject to similar laws. You cannot put 
it to unsuitable work without dead- 
ening power in its proper range, and 
depriving its possessor of that lever 
of personality by which he might 
move a generation. It is needless to 
say that a teacher in an institution 
for the later education needs far other 
qualities than are essential for the 
successful master of a school. If the 
latter be a man of good character, a 
student of human nature, and versed 
in certain technicalities of his art, it 
is not necessary that he should pos- 
sess much more knowledge than he is 
called upon to communicate. But 
the university renders its peculiar 
service to the community by collect- 
ing men of the highest standard of 
attainment. The true college pro- 
fessor is never a pedagogue, but always 
a student. He lives in the high 
atmosphere of his science, whether it 
be moral, speculative, or exact. He 
comes to his class-room fresh from the 
investigation of a great subject, and 
filled with enthusiasm for further 
knowledge of it ; and it is by the at- 
mosphere he brings with him that the 
minds of his pupils must be invigo- 
rated. When I think of the amiable 
and eminent men with whom, as a 
college student, I was brought in 
contact, it is difficult to speak with 
patience of a system which seemed 
devised to deprive them of just the 
conditions in which they might have 
been magnetic They stood before us 
in the fetters of a malign enchant- 
ment. Here were men capable of 
filling the offices of guide, philosopher, 
and friend, after far higher standards 
than Pope ever fancied j and some per- 
verse fairy was permitted to neutralize 
their powers by thrusting upon them 
the additional function of policeman. 



It is needless to say that this mon- 
strous combiQation prevented the 
greater professors firom filling with 
efficiency their rightful office. The 
awkward attempts at discipline, which 
they were forced to make, kept them 
in relations of petty antagonism with 
minds that would have yielded readily 
to their higher influence. The true 
order of college precedence was re- 
versed. An inferior order of teachers, 
who were not above the work of turn- 
ing the compulsory crank, seemed to 
have an advantage over wiser and 
better men, who could not be used for 
the ignoble business. The managers 
insisted upon " doubling " the parts of 
Pyramus and the Lion ; but it was 
only Nick Bottom who rushed forward 
in jubilant readiness to discharge 
both. 

Of priceless value to the nation are 
the high-minded and studious men, 
who, from time to time, fill chairs in 
our best colleges. They are indeed 
ignorant of the arts of money-getting, 
and unacquainted with phases of un- 
regenerate human nature of which 
the man of affidrs has daily experi- 
ence. Kever having been more than 
one-half boy, — and that the best half, 
— ^they find it difficult to comprehend 
the whimsical codes that fetter the av- 
erage college-student, and have some- 
times queerest notions of the laws of 
evidence. Put one of these men to his 
right work, and his worth is incalcu- 
lable. Compel him to be judge, jury> 
and executioner, among those who are 
passing through the most sensitive 
age known to mortals, and you have 
left nothing undone to reduce his 
powers to their meanest minimum. 

While advocating the voluntary 
system under the conditions already 
^pecified, I certainly do not claim, that, 
when it is first tried, its success will 
seem very striking. From what may 



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be a pradent deference to the doubts 
of respected educators like Dr. Mc- 
Cosh, the outgrown principle ca^ot 
at once be thoroughly abandoned, nor 
the better one honestly enforced. 
Against the crude and reckless appli- 
cation of reform, which wise reformers 
should be the first to deprecate, we 

^ hare a guaranty in the character of 
the men who direct our institutions for 
the later education. No change can 
instantly penetrate the inner life of a 
college, and show the gain it may ul- 
timately produce. Those in authority 
win proceed little by little, with the 
view of testing alleged improvements 
bj positive and definite experiments ; 
and they are right in doing so. But 
it must never be forgotten, that the 
Ungering consequences of regulations 

» pirtially repealed allow only hazy 
indications of results that might 
follow their total abrogation. Some 
time must elapse before those inde- 
finable influences which constitute a 
moral climate can make themselves 
feh. 

Bat when the period of probation 
is passed, — and marks and compul- 
sions, and personal competitions, have 
been consigned to their place among 
■provisional methods in the higher 

1^ training, — I believe that recitations 
(if daily instructions are still called 
by that name) may be made so inter- 
esting, and evidently helpful to the 
student, that the wish to avoid them 
wfll be unknown. The sentiments 
with which many have regarded the 
college recitation, as they knew it, 
were not wholly without justification. 
Four-fifths of it were useless to stu- 
dents who had mastered the pre- 
scribed lesson. Yet all were obliged 
to sit, hour after hour, upon painful 
benches to hear those who would not 
study stumble over simplest passages, 
or dodge the very obvious snares that 

• 4 



the professor was for(;ed to set for 
them. And, unhappily, the passive 
protests against the system, which 
the true teachers could not be re- 
strained from making, sometimes 
served to intensify its inherent mis- 

chiefe. There was Professor , for 

instance, who taught a science that I 
will call political economy, and who 
possessed every personal requisite for 
giving the highest intellectual guid- 
ance. The winning sunshine dif- 
fused by the presence of that thought- 
ful and inquiring teacher can never 
fade from the memories of those who 
have felt its influence. Left to his 
own reasonable methods, how per- 
fectly would he have personified that 
element of kindly justness in opinion, 
which commands the allegiance of 
young persons ! But the energy of 
this man was lowered and absorbed 
by the fetters in which he was re- 
quired to work. He was incapable 
of playing the captious pedagogue, 
expert in tripping dunces. Students 
were permitted to keep their text- 
boots opeli in his recitation-room, and 
were called upon in regular sequence. 
But habits created by customary ar- 
rangenfents were not to be changed 
by this covert repudiation of the prin- 
ciple upon which they rested. The 
recitation was still for marks ; and 
these were to be obtained, not by a 
general comprehension of the science, 
but by memorizing those few passages, 
of a text-book upon which each was 
to exhibit. But suppose this gifted 
teacher had been permitted to substi- 
tute his own electric forces for the 
dull mechanical ones by which he was 
forced to grind out certain results! 
If I venture to put in words the per- 
suasions that might have inaugurated 
a* free intercourse with his classes, it 
must be remembered that no type can 
represent the gentle tones that would 



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Coercion in the Later Stages of Edvjtxdion. 



V 



have filled tbem with aboonding 
power : — 

"We have come together, young 
gentlemen, to pursue some studies in 
political economy. We shall use Mr. 
Mill's work as a text-book ; but, in 
connection with it, I shall, from time 
to time, advise you to read portions 
of the works of other authors. By a 
fre« interchange of question and reply 
We shall make our study interesting. 
Some of the forms of the old recita- 
tion we shall find it well to retain. 
From time to time, I shall ask those 
who are willing to be called upon to 
give in their own language the results 
of our reading and conversations. I 
may answer a question about the ex- 
aminations that are to be passed at 
the end of the term, by saying that I 
have nothing ta do with them. For 
a statement of what will be required, 
together with the penalties for fail- 
ure, I refer you to the regulations 
issued by the business managers of 
this institution. I will mention only 
that these examinations are minute, 
and will be conducted chiefly in writ- 
ing. They will thoroughly test your 
real knowledge of the subject of our 
study by evidence as nearly infallible 
as the experience of experts can de- 
vise. But let this bo the last word 
or thought we give to them. We 
have only to feel the interest and 
value of the science as it opens before 
us ; and we need trouble ourselves as 
little about the tests of the examiners 
as the wise man is concerned about 
the ways in which the world will find 
him out." 

But, however confident we may be 
that there is no surer way of promot- 
ing honor and self-control among a 
good class of young men than by 
assuming these qualities to exist, it is 
certainly true that some restraining 
machinery must be kept ready for 



action where large numbers are 
brought together. If the bolts of 
discipline are not to be thrown by the 
weaf and erring hands of literary 
professors, to what power should they 
properly be confided ? I answer, 
The laws of the land for the protection 
of person and of property, and for the 
correction of lawlessness and vice, 
should be enforced by the business 
managers of the university. Any 
police force found necessary to protect 
buildings and grounds should be pro- 
vided. A salaried law-officer should 
be employed by the council of direc- 
tors to protect the interests of their 
trust by the methods known to his 
craft. It should be clearly under- 
stood that the outrageous assaults 
that ar^ sometimes committed under 
the name of " hazing " would be sub- 
mitted to the investigation and pun- 
ishment of the courts. The crime of 
endangering property and life by 
bonfires^ or otherwise, should be prose- 
cuted by a vigilant attorney. Offences 
which the law cannot restrain (and 
these are fewer than might be sup- 
posed) should be reported to the coun- 
cil of directors, to be dealt with by 
warning or expulsion, as should seem 
best. But, these forces existing, they . 
would rarely or neyer be called into 
action against young men who had 
learned how to study, and, in their 
daily intercourse with their teachers, 
were gaining that invaluable part of 
education which comes through inde- 
pendent, responsible action. 

The subject of discipline adminis- 
tered by the instructors in the highest 
education is so admirably treated by 
President Venable of the University 
of Virginia, that little can be added 
to a citation of his remarks : " I have 
seen the plan of trusting to the stu- 
dents' honor and of the abolition of 
all espionage tested here, and in the 



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University of South Carolina. It has 
also been adopted in most of the 
Virginia colleges with the best results. 
Its effects in imbuing the bodj of 
the students with the spirit of truth 
and candor, in giving them the proper 
scorn for a lie, and in promoting a 
frank and manly intercourse between 
the students and professors, cannot be 
too highly estimated. A student who 
is known^ to have been guilty of a 
violation of his examination-pledge, 
or of any other falsehood in his deal- 
ings with the authorities (things of 
rare occurrence), is not permitted by 
his fellows to remain in the institu- 
tion. I believe, that, if this system of 
trust and confidence were adopted in 
all the colleges in the land, it would 
prove an inestimable blessing to our 

^ country in inculcating manliness, 

truth, and integrity upon our future 
rulers." The good advice with which, 
on many occasions, Massachusetts 
has favored Virginia, is handsomely 
repaid in these wisd and suggestive 
words. 

Compulsory attendance at daily 
religious worship seems to lack all 
logical justification in an American 
university. One party \ of sensible 
and good men will tell you that com- 
pulsory college prayers are the master- 

' de?ice of Satan for killing all real 
devotion in the human breast On 
the other hand, persons of equal ex- 
cellence protest against any form of 
education which lacks this daily 
recognition of the religious obligations 
of man. WhOe these utterly conflict- 
mg views exist, it seems to me im- 
possible that a great university open 
to all persons, and respecting all con- 
sciences, should pronounce judgment 
in the matter. While opportunities 
for attending public worship should 
be furnished, the obligation to attend 
them should be enforced by the legal 



jguardian of the minor student. It 
is a responsibility that belongs to 
parents, and which, for the good of all 
parties, they should not be permitted 
to shirk. As testimony to the fact 
of attendance upon divine service, I 
venture to say that there is ^not one 
parent in a thousand who would hesi- 
tate to take the word of the son he 
is supporting at college. The cen- 
sure, or penalty, for remissness in this 
duty — if it were regarded as a duty 
— should be left in his hands. 

But, while insisting that mental cul- 
ture should be the sole end of univer- 
sity requirements, I yield to no one in 
the belief of its inadequacy to secure a 
complete and healthy x^anhood. An 
ability to stand bravely in a minority, 
a love of truth that shall weigh lightly 
all earthly advantages, — these are 
the gifts of a high and reverent faith. 
That "purification" from natural 
and acquired sin which Plato consid- 
ered the essential condition of human 
worth is likewise the first require- 
ment of Christianity. The solemn cry 
of the Psalmist, " Wherewithal shall 
a young man cleanse his way?" 
every individual is bound to answer 
at his peril, and as wisely as he may. 
It is doubted only whether this ques- 
tion can be wisely answered by the 
formal regulations of a secular cor- 
poration constituted for other pur- 
poses. The University of Virginia 
does not exact attendance upon daily 
religious services ; and its president 
gives important and gratifying testi- 
mony to the good results of this liber- 
ality. When any considerable num- 
ber of persons demand for a portion 
of the students of a university instruc- 
tion and oversight conformable with 
a special mode of religious belief, 
the foundation of difierent halls or 
homes will meet their wishes. The 
occupants of these institutions may^ of 



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Coercion in the Later Stages of Eduoaium. 



course, be subjected to such supervis- 
ions and compulsions as their support- 
ers approve. 

I have thus specified some of the 
conditions which men of radical 
thought believe that an institution 
for the later education should fulfil. 
The university should gradually aban- 
don its petty coercions and petty com- 
petitions, and represent, in the highest 
Qense, that " community " which was 
signified by the mediseval use of the 
word. The well-known law in me- 
chanics, by which two forces not in 
the same direction may be replaced 
by a single force, is potent in the im- 
material world. We look back with 
something like incredulity to the time 
when collegid instructors administered 
corporal chastisement upon refractory 
students. It is difficult to believe, that, 
less than a century ago, those appointed 
to minister to minds diseased could 
think of no better sedatives than the 
fetter and the lash. Another generation 
may look upon existing relationships 
between teacher and taught in the 
later stages of education as scarcely 
less false and demoralizing. For what 
Bacon has said of philosophers is 
equally applicable to a too commonly 
accepted status of college professors : 
"They are stars which give little light, 
because they are so high." The 
student is encouraged to look upOn 
himself as a victim, and upon his tutor 



as a licensed executioner, and seeks 
.his revenge in a whispered gibe or 
doubtful epigram. It is time that the 
miserable game of thrust-and-parry, 
played between the crammers and the 
cijkmmed, should give place to a nobler 
relation. The utmost skill of the 
great professor will always lie in the 
simple truth of the science his own 
]a]}or has created or enlarged. An 
institution will attract such men — 
nay, it may be said to' create them 

— by providing them with congenial 
work. The university that best 
knows how to use these rare teachers 

— men of sensitive and highly-refined 
organizations — may claim to be na^ 
tional in ^he noblest sense of that 
much-abused adjective. Such a me- 
tropolis of learning, where the highest 
American culture may thrive under 
the most fitting conditions, it is to 
be hoped, is not 'far from us. Its 
advent will fill with intellectual am- 
bitiojQ many who have not yet felt 
such stimulus. Coufiniug its bene- 
factions to the divine gifts of liberty 
and opportunity, it will cause a normal 
expansion of that mental power so 
greatly needed to cope with the com- 
plex problems our democracy is thrust- 
ing upon us. In better ways than 
by exacting prayers and praises from 
reluctant youths will the great uni- 
versity honor Him " whose service is 
perfect fireedom." 



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THE SPECIALTIES. 



BY B. £. HALE. 



[An Address delivered before the Literary Societies of Botes College and of Dartmouth College.] 



John Milton returned to Eng^ 
land from his foreign travels just as 
England was on the edge of civil war. 
In France and in Italy he had been 
welcomed with enthusiasm. He had 
been fairly petted by scholars ; he 
had been jealously watched by cat- 
like inquisitors, afraid that he was 
budding heresies into the true vine ; 
he had been serenaded by musicians ; 
he had been sung by poets ; he had 
been beloved by all. But Milton 
wonid not stay to be petted or flat- 
tered. The thunders growled in the 
horizon of England ; the batteries 
were builded which were to open on 
the English Sumter: and the true 
Englishman knew, the true Chris- 
tian knew, that, in such an exigency, 
his place was home. He left sunny 
Italy for foggy London, left flattery 
to find abuse, left play for work, 
and work the hardest. He had been 
gradoated at the university a few 
years before. I may say, gentlemen, 
that, when he turned his back upon 
Italy, his last vacation was over, and 
the real commencement of his life 
had come. 

I may then fairly allude to his life 
to-day as an illustration for some 
inquiries which we will make as to 
liberal study such as that to which 
yoo, gentlemen, devote yourselves. 
Here is the man, on the whole, most 
distinguished among men of our race, 
if^ in our estimate of distinction, we 
are to give a fair estimate to personal 
purity, to moral greatness, and to 
intellectual power. Of all men who 
hare spoken our language, Shak- 
speare and Milton are the two, whose 



loss, if we can conceive of it, would 
be the most fatal ; and, of these two^ 
John Milto/i is the man, wh6 in 
thought and action, in character, 
iiji politics, in his hope and effort for 
the coming-in of the kingdom of 
heaven, say in one word, in his reli- 
gion, represents the idea and the 
prophecy most dear to America, and 
especially to young America. Some 
illustrations drawn from that master 
life ought to be of use to young 
America -to-day. 

John Milton was the first scholar 
of his time ; he was the first theo- 
logian of his time ; he was the first 
statesman of his time ; he was the 
first poet of his time. 

He was the first scholar of his time. 
When Charles the Second, fleeing into 
exile, wished to establish his cause 
before Europe, he retained the person 
then accredited as the first man of let- 
ters in Europe — Claude de Saumaise 
— to write out the justification of 
Charles his father. At the order of the 
parliament, Milton replied. He rode 
over Saumaise in their tournament, 
^ Charlemagne or Roland would have 
ridden down and ridden over Don 
Quixote. And the name of the 
showy scholar, who knew, men said, 
every thing worth knowing, exists 
to-day in the dreariest comer of the 
dreariest cyclopaedia, only because 
Milton honored him with a reply. 
' Milton was the first theologian 
of his time. Not even his firiends 
who 'made the Westminster Con- 
fession, not even such sweet spirits 
as Herbert and Vaughan and Chil- 
lingworth and Taylor, who in an 



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The Specialties. 



opposing camp showed their unity of 
the spirit with those who overthrew 
the crown and the throne; not 
Hooker, Baxter, and Law; nor, on 
our side the water, not any Cotton or 
Davenport or Mather or WDliams of 
them all — have so held the faith of the 
world, have so swayed its devotion, 
or so guided its prayer^ as he who 
invoked the Holy Spirit for his muse, 
and taught all men the music of tl\e 
first evening hymn. 

Looking back upon it all, we have 
a right to say he was the first states- 
man, of his titne. Cromwell and the 
rest were trained in that rough school 
of statesmanship which does not miss 
its mark. Like our own dear Abra- 
ham Lincoln, when the common sense 
of the people pushed them on, they 
found out how to lead. There was no 
lack of will ; and they found out the 
way. But when they had to defend 
in letters the work that they had 
done; when, as against a defeated 
church, or a throne overturned, they 
had to justify in eternal argument 
their cause, — whom had they to turn 
to but John Milton ? 

That he was the first poet of his 
time, the world allows. There are 
not wanting those who say he was 
the first poet of all time. 

Now, what was the training, gen- 
tlemen, which stood Milton in stead 
for service so various to the world ? 
What were the early studies which 
laid the foundation for work so distin- 
guished, — work in lines so different, 
which was, however, work so brave- 
ly, nay, so completely done ? There 
are ugly proverbs, which say that a 
" Jack at all trades works ill at all." 
That may be true of trades : clearly 
it is not true of the nobler range of 
service. How was Milton trained in 
' boyhood and in youth, that, when a 
man^ he might serve bis country and 



his God, whether as advocate, whether 
as theologian, whether as states- 
man, or as poet ? The answer is in 
familiar words: As boy and youth, 
thanks to a fond father's wisdom I 
Milton had the most generous, the 
broadest culture England or Europe 
had to give. He enjoyed what we 
rightly call a liberal education. 

The world was then what it is 
now in the habit of men's minds and 
in the drift of their ambitions. There 
is no doubt, therefore, that John Mil- 
ton and his father were surrounded 
with people who advised some other 
training. They urged, I do not doubt, 
what people nqw call a specialty ; that 
this young man should be early 
trained to some special pursuit, trade, 
or calling. As time passed on, I do 
not doubt that they pointed out the 
success, the brilliant success, of this 
or that specialist, as illustrative of 
the value of their counsel. The chief 
contractor who made CromwelFs pow- 
der, for instance (there must have 
been such a man, though history has 
forgotten him), the master manu- 
facturer who made the powder which 
Cromwell's soldiers kept so dry, and 
burned to so much purpose, was, 
doubtless, in the London of that day, 
a person of more mark and note than 
John Milton. He had wrought on 
his specialty, and had wrought on it 
welL He had made a good contract ; 
he made good powder; and he got 
good pay. History has forgotten him ; 
but I dare reconstruct history so far 
as to say that I am sure he rode in 
his carriage, while Milton went afoot ; 
that his wife had laces and silks fit 
for an empress, while Milton's wife 
spread thin butter on thick bread 
for hungry schoolboys. I think the 
powder-contractor and the poet may 
have known each other at school. I 



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thiDk he may have nodded good-na- 
turedly to Milton, as they met some 
day at the government offices ; and I 
can hear the contractor saying to him- 
self with contemptuous pity, " That 
is what comes of the classics and the 
mathematics, Christ College and the 
university; and my coach and four 
here are what came of my specialty.'' 
Yet for all that, gentlemen, if you 
and I had to choose between the two 
lines for son of ours, we should not 
choose the special training, we should 
choose the liberal education : for we 
should say, "It is perfectly certain 
that the powder manufacturing will be 
done ; it is not perfectly certain, that, 
without watchful care and delicate 
nursing, the world will get its sci- 
ence, its statesmanship, or its theolo- 
gy, or its poetry." About the meth- 
ods in life, there need be no fear. 
The doubt and danger are about the 
principles on which all. methods de- 
pend. The methods of life are all 
that the specialist fully learns. The 
man of liberal education is studying 
its principles. 

It is unquestionably tnie, that, with 
the immense enlargement of human 
knowledge, the several sciences part 
80 widely, that no man can pretend 
to master them all ; and only the 
merest 'charlatan professes the knowl- 
edge of the detail of every vocation. 
Still it is as true as ever, first, that all 
science involves a knowledge of fun- 
damental and essential principles, 
and that the man who is not trained 
and habituated in these will be a* 
mere dabster and empiric even in 
the method of the special science 
which he has chosen. It is true, 
again, that each science is to be in- 
vestigated and explained by the same 
eternal laws of truth, and methods of 
reasoning, as every other; and the 



specialist who undertakes to study or 
to teach without habit and experience 
in these laws of truth, and methods of 
reasoning, breaks down again as dab- 
ster and pretender. Once more : it is 
true, that as the unity of nature as- 
serts itself, and the correlation of one 
force with another, that man succeeds 
best in interpreting Nature in one of 
her phases, who can best interpret her 
in another. This is the man, who, 
ttom the breadth of his education, can 
tell something of the harmony of 
things, of the kosmos of the universe. 
He succeeds in his specialty just in 
proportion to the breadth of his gen- 
eral education. 

Yet it is necessary to say this, and 
to illustrate it by such memories as 
those which tell us to what educa- 
tion we owe John Milton, and how 
great the loss would have been, had 
we specialized him into a scrivener, 
because, in the rush of our time, even 
the colleges and universities have 
been invaded; and the old narrow- 
ness of the specialty is hero and there 
proclaimed anew, as if it were some 
new discovery in education. 

When we come to examine this 
tempting and specious proposal, does 
it amount to any thing more than the 
old temptation, that the child of God 
shall use the heavenly form God has 
given him by setting it to make bread 
out of stones ? 

What do we say of the same pro- 
posal when it is presented a little 
younger in men's lives? 

In my own home, the city of Bos- 
ton, there is an annual expenditure 
for the education of children of about 
a million and a half of dollars. The 
poorest child may take the advan- 
tage of this expenditure till he is 
eighteen years of age ; and the meth- 
ods are so arranged, that he may, if 
he choose, enter with good instruc- 



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The JSpeciaUies. 



tion on many of the lines of study 
pursued in most colleges. In spite 
of this generous provision, however, 
the larger part of the children leave 
school before they are twelve years 
old. They do this that they may ac- 
quire certain specialties. It is now 
the specialty of selling lozenges, or 
matches; it is now the specialty of 
leasing opera-glasses for the evening ; 
it is now the specialty of what is 
called a cash-boy in a large retail 
store: it is not an apprenticeship, 
which educates a boy for higher life. 
At twelve he is too young for that. 
It is only a specialty which enables 
him to earn, week by week, about as 
much as will pay for his food. 

When w^ see this in the case of 
the little boy or girl, we all regret it. 
There is then no question that the 
decision of the parents is wrong. By 
all means in our hands, we attempt 
to change that decision. In Boston 
we arc at this moment tlying to intro- 
duce into the schools such technical 
education, in sewing, in carpentry, and 
other useful arts, as may persuade 
short-sighted parents to keep their 
children at school a little longer; for 
we think even half a loaf is better 
than no bread. We do not do this be- 
cause we like to do it : we accept it as the 
necessity forced upon us by the deter- 
mination of ignorant parents to gain 
the immediate return of bread and 
•buttor for the education which is given 
to their children. We see that the 
longer we can put off the acquisition 
of the specialty the better. 

This principle, which is acknowl- 
edged by all in the case of boys and 
girL**, loses none of its force when it 
is applied in the lives of young men 
and young women. Of course, in 
civilized life, each man, sooner or later, 
must have his special training in the 
service which he is to render. But the 



precise object for which we have found- 
ed these colleges is to give the liberal 
and broad foundation on which that 
training is to be based. And the 
rule of life might be stated, almost 
without an exception, that the longer 
the special training could be post- 
poned, so the generous preparation 
were still in progress, the better for 
the man, and the better for mankind. 
The fine and analytic division of 
labor for which the specialist pleads, 
results, he thinks, in a certain im- 
provement in the quantity or the 
quality of the world's manufacture. 
If one man always does one thing, 
and another man always does another 
thing, each man growing perfect in 
his specialty, the result will be, we 
are told, better pins in your pin-fac- 
tory, more sheetings from your ma- 
jestic mills, finer type for your news- 
papers, and Remington rifles more 
highly finished in your armories. All 
this is very possible. But the argu- 
ment forgets that this world was not 
created for the manufacture of pins, 
of sheetings, of newspapers, or of 
rifles; it was created for the train- 
ing of men : and the man is made 
more perfect and morej not by his 
deftness in this handicraft, or his 
knack in that trade, but as one part 
of his being is thoroughly wrought 
in with another part, body witlumind, 
and mind with soul. 

The great modern patron of that 
system of industry which makes each 
man do what he can do cheapest, and 
divides labor so that one man shall 
make the heads of pins perfectl}'', and 
shall be capable of nothing else, that 
another man shall point them per- 
fectly, and be fit for nothing else, is 
Adam Smith. Ifr might be enough 
to say, that, if Adam Smith's theory 
could have been properly carried out, 
he would have spent his life, not in 



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writing treatrses of political economy, 
but in fishing for herrings on the 
shore of Scotland ; that being the in- 
dustry for which nature seems to have 
best fitted that region, had not the re- 
strictions of goyemment or civilization 
introduced other life there. Adam 
Smith is himself, then, an illustration 
bow much the world gains when the 
boy and the man is trained to some 
broader and higher life than the mere 
specialty to which circumstances, or 
what people call <* nature," would 
have directed him. Have we not, 
in our own history, had instances, — 
instances enough to teach us what 
the country gains by training its citi- 
lena in the broader culture? Like 
the old Greek culture, it enables them 
to turn to any service. What is the 
whole tenor of the history of the 
war? Who were our diplomatists, — 
our Adams and Marsh and Motley ? 
They were men who had been trained 
in the broader culture, and took up 
the specialty of diplomacy as a mat- 
ter of course, just as Themistocles 
led a fleet without having been 
trained to the specialty of a sailor. 
Tlie special accomplishment, indeed, 
is only charlatanism, when it is not 
based on knowledge of the principle 
employed Such is the rule-of- thumb 
reckoning of the seaman who does 
not know why his latitudes and lon- 
gitudes come right, and is wholly the 
slave of his process. 

It was my fortune, once, to sit for 
several days by the side of the late 
Gov. Andrew of Massachusetts, while, 
with skill and supcess which I will 
not pretend to describe, he presided 
over a large, excited assembly, which, 
but for liis admirable gift, would have 
been stormy. When all was done, I 
ventured to felicitate him on his suc- 
cess. "I think I have succeeded,'' 
said he ; " and I believe it is because, 



in all my life, I have only for three or 
four hours been in the chair of any 
assembly. I believe it is because I 
know nothing of the technics of par- 
liamentary law. I mean," he add- 
ed with earnestness, "that I have 
been trying all through these days 
to apply the principles of justice, of 
truth and common sense, in the forms, 
which were of course 'familiar to me, 
of deliberative assemblies." Gentle- 
men, I could not but contra^^t that 
verdict with the verdict of one of 
your own statesmen who stood with 
me one day in the gallery at the Capi- 
tol, as an acute parliamentarian, who 
has thus far never been any thing but 
an acute parliamentarian, dissected 
some point of order to the bottom. 
" I would not," said your senator, 
" know as much as that man knows 
of parliamentary law, no, not if you 
gave me the world ! " Take that as a 
not unfair contrast of the difference 
Jbetween principle and method, if, by 
any misfortune, either must be 
learned alone. 

The man who does not undeiBtand 
the principle will constantly be 
blundering in his method. The 
amusing stories of the blunders of the 
accurate Chinese imitators are illus- 
trations. But more than this, and 
worse than this, the specialist who 
has not laid a generous foundation for 
his art cannot explain it to another, 
cannot wisely conduct the experiments 
for advancing it : he can only repeat 
the pi*ocesses to which he himself is 
bred. The hackneyed anecdote says 
that Mansfield told the Indian judge, 
who had not been trained in the prin- 
ciples of law, to make his decisions 
boldly, and they would be right, but 
to beware how lA gave his reasons, 
for they would surely be wrong. Pre- 
cisely so, the mere specialist cannot 
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a recipe ; and what becomes of such 
work ? It was such work which the 
artisans of old time wrought in, — in 
thelost arts, — over whose monuments 
we are left to wonder. Such workmen 
learned the process ; but they were 
powerless to explain the principle : so 
the abiding or eternal element was 
gone. The science ceased to be a 
science : it became an art, a knack, a 
secret, a memory, a shadow, and then 
was gone forever. 

Of modem science, on the other 
hand, the glory is, that it is built up 
on certain eternal principles which 
have found their formulas in what 
we call laws. A knowledge of these 
laws leads to the true experiment, 
and to the simplifying of science. 
All true science is seeking to make 
science simpler and simpler : it is 
seeking to fiad the general principle 
of which these special arts are only 
the illustrations. The greatest vic- 
tory of modern sciences, the correla- 
tion of physical forces, is an exquisite 
instance of the answer given to men 
who were able to interrogate nature 
not with one, but with many ques- 
tions. And the bold suggestions and 
fascinating generalizations of the 
most distinguished naturalists of our 
time — of your Darwins and Huxleys 
and Tyndalls — are gifts to us from 
minds which have been trained not in 
one line of research, nor in two, but 
in many, I might almost say in all. 
Their generalization takes its value 
from the range of their observation. 
Then the statement of it is intelligi- 
ble, because they have not disregard- 
ed intellectual sciences of analysis, 
of investigation, and of argument. 
And once more : their methods are 
intelligible because tnere is, and they 
know there is, a principle behind. 

The truth seems to be, that, for all 
these reasons, we should be glad in 



every case to postpone the training 
for the specialty as long as possible. 
We are to make the studies in prepa- 
ration for it broad enough to train 
every faculty of body, mind, or soul. 
It is only in the lowest grades of life 
that we do not find ^ fault with the 
absence of either side of such training. 
We do not ask, perhaps, that a hod- 
carrier shall move gracefully, or speak 
fluently, or talk without profanity. 
But just so soon as life calls for lead- 
ers, just so soon as a crisis comes, so 
soon as education, or men of education, 
are in question, we ask that, body, 
mind, and soul, all shall be all ready 
for our service. 

Does any one venture to make what 
men call the crucial test the test 
of success in war? If you inquire 
there, our own experience is all on 
one side. The education of West 
Point, which has given such vigor to 
our armies, is thoroughly liberal, and 
by no means technical or special. 
What men write English like your 
West Point army officers ? what men 
better understand the relations of 
science with science? nay, what 
men have been more successful in 
their practical interpretation of con- 
stitutional law ? And, if you will ask 
the most successful of theYn as to 
what is the best preparation for West 
Point, they will tell you, without ex- 
ception, that the best introduction to 
West Point is the full training of 
one of our colleges. Yes. gontlemen ; 
and if you look outside West i^oint, 
in the army, the verdict is the same. 
Wliat men rose to -rank most distin- 
guished, and won the love, as well as 
the honors, of the country, as did the 
men whom your alma mater, and 
yours, and mine, had trained not for 
one service only, but to be ready 
for whatever call of duty? In 
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enough for me to allude to CHamber- 
lain and Sjlvanus Thayer. Let me 
indulge a personal regard, and speak 
with a regret which is not personal, 
bat national, in naming for my own 
alma mater our Lowell and Wads- 
worth. Or let me speak for the coun- 
try, when I name men still living, — 
Hayes and Terry, and Butler and 
Chamberlain, and Hawley and Howard. 
Did not such men lead their soldiers 
nnder fire more cheerfully, because 
every memory of old heroism and sto- 
ried victory was theirs ? — the mem- 
ories of Mantinea and Thermopylae, 
and Lutzen and Naseby. Did they 
not care for their soldiers more ten- 
derly, because their eyes had over- 
flowed when they read of the gentle 
ministries of St. Louis and St. Vin- 
cent ? Did not they rule conquered 
cities more firmly and more wisely, 
because they had early learned how to 
love a Curtius and to scorn a Verres ? 
Nay, gentlemen, such men died more 
easily, the eye of the body closed 
with one smile more tender creeping 
over the cold features, because, as they 
died, they remembered what Harvard 
and Yale and Brunswick and Lewis- 
ton, and Dartmouth had taught them 
in their boyhood : " Blessing and 
honor indeed, that a man may die 
for his country." 

But I do not choose, gentlemen, in 
this honored presence, to discuss these 
questions on the strength of any illus- 
trations, however pertinent or strong. 
I stand in the presence of a college 
dedicated to liberal study, founded 
by men who believed in liberal train- 
ing, the home of young men who 
have consecrated their lives to it. It 
is those young men who have honored 
me by giving me the opportunity to 
discuss these themes. No college can 
pretend to liberal study, unless, like 
yours^ it is baptized in the free 



thought of its founders. Here, at 
least, I need only refer to the cen- 
tral demand of all Christian educa- 
tion, — the demand made by him who 
was a scholar before he was an apos- 
tle ; who, in the schools of Jewish 
thought, and even from the teachers 
of Gentile wisdom, had learned what 
the wisdom of men had to say in 
these things. It is St. Paul who 
rises above the wisdom of the flesh 
to speak to you in the words of the 
Spirit. It is St. Paul who says, in 
words which might be well taken for 
the eternal motto of a new-born col- 
lege, that the aim of all life, the 
object of all training, is that we may 
come unto a perfect man : iig ardga 
releiovy — " Unto a perfect man ! " 

It is not simply the training of the 
voice to speak ; it is not simply the 
training of the eye to see ; far less 
is it the training of the fingers of 
the hand to this service or that toil : 
it is that we may come urito a perfect 
man. The whole body, soul and 
spirit, are to be presented blameless, 
— the body, by those exercises and by 
that temperance which come from the 
wisdom that is first pure ; the mind, 
by that discipline (such as these 
gentlemen know how to interpret) 
which shall quicken fanc}', shall 
strengthen memory, and shall clear 
argument from sophistry. And the 
soul, the infinite child of an infinite 
God, is to be trained in faith and 
hope and love ; in faith to look 
above the world ; in hope to look be- 
yond time ; in love to look outside 
its lesser life, in that communion 
in which we are one with all God^s 
children, one even with himself. This 
is the standard, gentlemen, which the 
great Christian apostle proposes for 
your education. Faithfully try his ex- 
periment, and look forward to noth- 
ing less than this ultimate blessing. 



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Then let life offer to yoo what it may ; 
let your special duty be here or there ; 
let the Irand be called for, or the 
head, or the heart-; let it be words 
of conviction, or deeds of valor, or 
prayers of faith^ which the world 
needs from you, — you are equipped 



for tbe one call or the other. You 
stand not hampered by the little 
habits of some petty training; yoa 
stand forth ready, aye ready, the 
willing sons of Almighty Grod, strong 
in the liberty in which Christ has 
made you free. 



TRACES IN PRINT OF DANIEL WEBSTER'S WORK IN 

COLLEGE. 



Daniel Webster entered Dart- 
mouth College in 1797, and was grad- 
uated, .after passing through the regu- 
lar course of studies, in 1801. His bi- 
ographers mention, that, during this 
period, he delivered two orations, which 
were printed ; and that he took part 
in the publication of " The Dartmouth 
Gazette," a weekly newspaper printed 
in the town of Hanover, N.H., where 
the college is situated. We have be- 
fore us printed copies in the original 
of both of the orations, and a file of the 
newspaper. In view of the extraor- 
dinary powers of mind which Mr, 
Webster afterwards developed, it is 
interesting to examine these produc- 
tions of his early years. It is true 
that, like other great men, in the later 
years of his life lie alluded in t«rms 
of disparagement to the writings of 
his early life. As early as 1829, he 
wrote with reference to them : " They 
are, or oiight to be, all forgotten ; at 
least, most of them, and all of this 
early period." But this judgment, 
however sincere and serious, is alto- 
gether too harsh ; and in this opinion 
we doubt not that our readers will 
concur if they will accompany us 
through the following notes. 

The full titlepage of the first 
Fourth of July oration delivered by 
Mr. Webster (for in later years he 



delivered several others on the recur- 
rence of the national anniversary) is 
the following : — 

" An oration pronounced at Hanover, New 
Hampehiro, the 4th day of Jnly, 18G0 ; being 
the twcntj-foorth anniTcrsarj of American 
Independence. By Daniel Webster, member 
of the junior class, Dartmouth Uniyersity. 

" Do thou, great Liberty, inspire our bouIs, 
And make our lives in thy poMCssion happy, 
Or cor deaths glorious In thy Just defence.** 

ADDUOlf. 

''Published by request of the subscribers. 
Printed at Ilanover, by Moses Davis, 1800." 

From this oration we make the fol- 
lowing extract. It will be recollected 
that Washington had died in the pre- 
ceding month of December, not many 
months after the commission' of lieu- 
tenant-general had been conferred, 
upon him, in the general expectation 
that a war with France might become 
necessary. 

" Although we must feel the keenest sorrow 
2\ the demise of our Washington, yet wc con- 
sole ourselves with the reflection that his vir- 
tuous compatriot, his worthy successor, the 
firm, the wise, the inflexible Adams, still sur- 
vives. Elevated by the voice of bis country 
to the supreme executive magistracy, he con- 
stantly adheres to her essential interests, and 
with steady hand draws the disguising reil 
from the intrigues of foreign enemies and the 
plots of domestic foes. liaving the honor of 
America always in view, never fearing, when 
wisdom dictates, to stem the impetuous tor- 
rent of popular resentment, he stands amidst 



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Tracer in Print of Darnel Wehster^s Work in CoUege. 61 



tiid floctoadons of party and the explosions 
of Action, unmoTed as Atlas, 

* While ftorms and t^npcsta thunder on Ito brow, 
And oceans break their biUowt at ita feet.' 

Tet all the yigilance of oar ExecntiTe, and 
sll the wisdoin of oar Congreis, have not 
been soffident to prevent this ooantry from 
being, in some degree, agitated by the oonml- 
Bons of Europe. . Bat why shall every- qoar- 
rd on the other side the Atlantic interest as 
in its issiie ? Why shall the rise or depres- 
sion of every party there produce here a cor- 
raponding Tibra^n ? Was diis continent 
deigned as a mere satellite to the other? 
Hss not Nature here wrought all her opera- 
tions on her broadest scale? Where are the 
Miflsiasippis and the Amasons, the Alleghanics 
sad the Andes, of Europe, Asia, or Africa? 
The natond superiority of America clearly 
indicates that it was designed to be inhabited 
bj s nobler race of men, possessing a superior 
fimn of goTcmment, superior patriotism, su- 
perior tslents, and superior virtues. Let, 
then, the nations of the East Toinly waste 
their strength in destroying each other ; let 
them sspire at conquest, and contend for do- 
Bunion, till their continent is deluged in 
blood: but let none, however elated by vio- 
iarjf however proud of triumphs, ever presume 
to intrude on the neutral station assumed by 
oar country. 

''Britain, twice humbled for her aggres- 
nons, has at length been taught to respect us. 
Bat France, once our ally, has dared to in- 
sult as; she has violated her obligations; 
she has depredated our commerce; she has 
abused our government, and riveted the chains 
of bondage on our unhappy fellow-citizens. 
Mot content with ravaging and depopulating 
the fairett countries of Europe, not yet satiat- 
ed with the contortions of expiring republics, 
the oonvoLdve agonies of subjugated nations, 
tad the groans of her own slaughtered citi- 
seos, she has spouted her fury across the 
Atlantic ; and the stars and stripes of Inde- 
pendence have almost been attacked in our 
harbors. When we have demanded rcpara^ 
tion, she has told us, ' Give us your money, 
and we will give you peace.* Mighty nation I 
Magnaaimoofl republic I Let her All her cofllers 
ftom those towns and cities which she has 
Ulnndered, and giHnt peace, if she can, to the 
shades of those millions whose death she has 



** But Colfimbia stoops not to tyrants ; her 
sons wiU never cringe to France. Neither a 
supercilious, five-headed Directory, nor the 
gasconading pilgrim of Egypt, will ever dic- 



tate terms to sovereign America. The thun- 
der of otir cannon shall insure the perform- 
acce of our treaties, and fdlminate destruc- 
tion on Frenchmen, till old Ocean is crim- 
soned with blood, and gorged with pirates. 

"It becomes us, on whom the defence of 
our country will ere long devolve, most seri- 
ously to reflect on the duties incumbent upon 
us. Our ancestors bravely snatched expiring 
Liberty from the grasp of Britain, whoso 
touch is poison : shall we now consign it to 
France, whoso embrace is death ? Wo have 
seen our fathers in the day of Columbia's 
trouble, assume the rough habiliments of war, 
and seek the hostile field. Too full of sorrow 
to speak, we have seen them wave a last fare- 
well to a disconsolate, a woe-stung family ; 
wo have seen them return, worn down with 
fatigue, and scarred with wounds ; or we have 
seen them, perhaps, no more. For us they 
fought ; for us they bled ; for us they con- 
quered. Shall we their descendants now 
basely disgrace our lineage, and pusillani- 
mously disclaim the legacy bequeathed us ? 
Shall we pronounce the sad valediction to 
Freedom, and immolate Liberty on the altars 
our Others have raised to her ? No ! Tf^e re- 
sponse of a nation is* No I* Lei it be registered 
in the arc/lives of heaven I Ere the religion we 
profess, and the privileges we e;igoy, are sacrii 
ficod at the shrines of despots and dema- 
gogues, let the pillars^ of creation tremble; 
let world bo wrecked on world, and systems 
rush to ruin I Let the sons of Etirope bo vas- 
sals ; let her hosts of nations be a vast con- 
gregation of slaves ; but let us who arc this 
day free, whose hearts are yet unappallcd, 
and whose right arms are yet nerved for war, 
assemble before the hallowed temple of Co- 
lumbian freedom, and swear to the God of our 
/others to preserve it secure, or die at its pwtals** 

" The Dartmouth Gazette "was not, 
as is sometimes supposed, a college 
newspaper or magazine conducted by 
the students. It was the weekly news- 
paper of the towfi, consisting of a 
folio sheet; each of the four pages 
presenting a surface of about nine by 
sixteen inches of printed matter, in 
four columns. The first number bears 
date the 27th of August, 1799 ; and its 
publication was continued not only 
during Mr. Webster's t^rm in college, 
but for many years afterwards, *' by 
Moses Da?iS| on College Plain, west 



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62 Traces in Print of Daniel Webster *8 Work in CoUege. 



of the meeting-house, Hanover, N.H.*' hut it may seire to show to what a height the 
The first number begins with the amWtionoftheacferaiii Directory had arisen. 

"Printer's Address," in which Mr.* « To citizen Bhinehard, the aeronaut. > 

Davis addresses himself "to the « In the name of the French Republic, one 

free and enlightened citizens of New "and indivisible. 

Hampshire and Vermont, patrons "Th« Executive Directory, reposing fiiU 

of science and heirs of freedom;" ^ «"^ ^nM^n^ in your in^ty «id 

. diplomatic skiUy have appomted you to 

and signs himself, " The public s ^^ command ^ an aerial squadron dea- 

devoted, humble servant, Moses Da- dned to attack (he moon. From Paris 

yis." you will proceed, with the troops allot- 

Mr.' Webster was a contributor to. *«* y*"' ^J^!^f^ '"^ y°" '^^5 
, , . i. ^1 • «• largely reinioroed : thence you will proceed 

the columns of this newspaper from ^^^ ^ ^^ ^^^^ ^/^ expedition. 

Having arrived at the moon, you will declare 
to the Lunarians, that you come not as an 
enemy, but as. a friend ; that yon come to 
rescue them from that load of tyranny under 
which they groan ; that you ' bear death to 
kings, and freedom to the moon ; ' that the 
Directory of the terrible republic, having con- 



the beginning of its existence. It is 
known that he wrote the pieces which 
it contains under the signature of 
" Icarus." One of these appeared in 
the very first number, in 1799 ; and 
they were continued until February, 

1801. We find thirteen altogether qnered every thing worthy of their attention 
under this signature. Some of them in this teri«trial orb have ext<mded their 
^ . , arms and their benevolence to the inhabitants 

are in prose, some in verse, and some ^f their world. On your lint «my«l,yoa will 
partly in prose, and partly in verse, take care to distribute among the Lunarians 
The first three contributions are of such books and publications as tend to destroy 
the character last described, and make **^ Bupeistitious veneration for honesty and 

religion, and set men afloat on the ocean of 
Reason. Our secretary wiil furnish you with 
a few copies of Mr. Paine's work, and a file of 
the ' Journal do Paris,' together with a few 
' Constitutional Telegraphs,' and ' Republican 
Ledgers,' trajttmittod to us by our very dear 
frieud in America. These are all which will 
be requisite. Having effected the object of the 
expedition, having established among the 
Lunarians the constitution which accompanies 
this mossajre, you will make a small requisi- 
tion of about four or five hundred millions, 
and return to France to receive the never- 
fading laurels of triumph and victory, 
" By order of the Directory, 
"Health and fraternity, 

"Lb Garde, Secretary.^ 

In the Notices to Correspondents, 
"Icarus" is frequently referred to, 



a series of essays on the subjects of 

"Hope," "Charity," and "Fear." 

There are also verses upon " Winter " 

and upon " Spring." But others of the 

contributions are of quite a different 

character. These are prose articles, 

generally discussions of current politi- 
cal questions, or comments on passing 

affairs. It would occupy too much 

space to quote tlie whole of tliese ; and 

a series of brief extracts would give 

but little idea of their character. We 

copy entire the follovring clever piece 
of political satire, which is contained 
in the number /or 24th February, 
1800, at which time the news of the 
Revolution of the 18th Brumaire in sometimes chided ; as thus, 7th Octo- 
Paris had just come to hand : — ^©r, 1799 : " Since our first number, 

* Icarus * has taken his flight, and Ho 
**Mr. Prihtbb. — One of my winged cor- intelligence can be obtained respect- 
respondents on the other side of the Atlantic fng him. It is feared, that, in his 
has very politely obliged me with the follow- annroach to the sun his wax«»n wincra 
ing. It is not probable that the expedition aPP«>^*^ f the sun, tiis waxen wings 
hinted at below wiU ever be attempted, since *^® melted, and that evil has befallen 
Bonaparte has sent the five directors to pot; him,'' 10th February, 1800: "Icarus 



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Tracer m Print of Darnel Webster's Work in College. 63 



is reminded of bis obligation to tbe 
editor. We wisb some of our writers 
would rouse bim from bis present state 
of letbargy." 4tb August : " Icarus, 
where art tbou ? Have tbe sunbeams 
of July and August fused thy wings ? " 
27th December : " Icarus ' waS' tell- 
ing, a fiw weeks ago, of ' continuing ' 
to harp upon ' winter ; ' but, as winter 
has seen £t virtually to leave us, 
Icarus has rightly judged it proper 
to continue silent. If a distich of 
his would help us to a few inches of 
snow, be should be paid for it." Sim- 
ilar notices were addressed to other 
regular correspondents of the paper, 
of whom there were several. 

It is not probable that these formal 
contributions comprised the whole of 
the assistance which Mr. Webster 
rendered to the printer of " The Dart- 
mouth Gazette." His own account of 
his connection with the newspaper is 
contained in a few lines of the frag- 
ment of autobiography printed in the 
coUection of his " Private Correspond- 
ence," prepared by his son Fletcher 
Webster. In speaking of his college 
life, Mr. Webster says, — 

" My coI!cge life was not an idle one. Be- 
sides the regular attendance on prescribed 
duties and studies, I read something of Eng- 
lish history and English literature. Perhaps 
my r«sading was too misceUaneons. I oven 
paid my board for a yexu* by superintending a 
UtHr v:eckly newspaper, and making selections 
lor it from books of litemture and from the 
contemporary publications. I suppose I some- 
times wrote a foolish paragraph myself." 

In tbe Biographical Memoir pfe- 
fixed to the standard edition of Mr. 
Webster's works, Mr. Everett says, in 
the paragraph in which he describes 
Mr. Webster's course at college, " He 
took part in tbe publication of a little 
weekly newspaper, furnishing selec- 
tions from books and magazines, with 
an occasional article from his own 
pen." 



Mr. Greorge T. Curtis, who appears 
to have made most thorough and 
faithful use of tbe ample materials in 
bis hands for the preparation of the 
"Life of Datoiel Webster," in ref- 
erence to the same period, says, " Ho 
superintended a small weekly news- 
paper printed in Hanover, and called 
*The Dartmouth Gazette,' during the 
year 1800, which was bis • junior 
year." 

In a paper upon "The Student Life 
of Daniel Webster," which we pre- 
sume we are not in error in attributing 
to the accomplished pen of Prof. 
Sanborn, it is stated, that, "during 
the last two years of his college life, 
be made frequent contributions to a 
newspaper pitblished at that time in 
Hanover." 

Mr. Webster's relations with Mr. 
Moses Davis were friendly and fa- 
miliar. This is evident from the cir- 
cumstance that he maintained a cor- 
respondence with him after leaving 
college ; and on one occasion at least, 
after graduation, furnished, at the ur- 
gent request of Mr. Davis, the " News- 
boy's Address" in verse for the 
new year. 'J his appears by a note 
to a letter from Mr. Davis to Mr. 
Webster contained in the "Private 
Correspondence." The same volume 
contains several letters from Mr. 
Webster to Mr. Moses Davis ; one of 
which, in the index, is entered under 
the initial D. ; and some others under 
the name of Mr. Isaac P. Davis, by 
means of the accidents common in the 
preparation of an index. 

Mr. Moses Davis was the " printer " 
of " The Dartmouth Gazette," and was 
no doubt responsible to the public for 
what its columns contained. News- 
papers in those days — if not every- 
where, certainly in this country — sel- 
dom contained what are now known 
as "editorials." Indeed, the manager, 



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64 Traces in Print of Daniel Webster^ a Work in CoUege. 



I 

as we have seen in citing Mr. Davis's 
address, in undertaking the publica- 
tion of " The Dartmouth Gazette," as- 
sumed the title merely of " printer/' 
and not the more ambitious one of 
"editor." His correspondents often 
addressed him by name, as, in this case, 
*' Mr. Davis ; " and their communica- 
tions WPTe printed with that address, 
instead of the formal, "To the editor of 
the Gazette," or the less formal, but 
equally indefinite, " Mr. Editor." Such 
communications on political topics 
were generally furnished by gentle- 
men interested in public affairs, who 
chose that mode of communicating 
their views, under a .signature to 
which they sometimes adhered for 
a variety of articles, or sometimes 
changed when desirous of appearing 
in a fresh disguise ; for the authorship 
of such pieces was commonly a secret 
carefully guarded. Such was the case 
with regard to Mr. Webster's papers 
signed "Icarus." One of his early 
friends (Mr. Jacob W. McGaw) men- 
tions in a letter written in 1852, that,* 
in one of the college- vacations, " Mr. 
Webster asked me if I saw and read 
'The Dartmouth Gazette,' and, if so, 
what I thought of 'Icarus,' whose pro- 
ductions sometimes appeared in that 
paper. My criticisms were more 
severe than just. Two or three years 
afterwards, he informed^ me that he 
was the veritable ' Icarus.' " And in a 
letter from Mr. Webster to his class- 
mate Bingham, dated Feb. 5, 1800, he 
says, ' Much speculation is made here 
on the scribblers for ' The Dartmouth 
Gazette.' Old 'Icarus' is handled 
without ceremony. I shall tell you 
hereafter some pretty things about 
it." But the letter in which these 
" pretty things " were told — if such 
letter ever were written — is not pre- 
served in the printed correspondence. 
The task of the conductor of a 



newspaper in those early days of 
American journalism, besides enlist- 
ing the services of such correspondents 
as he could find willing to furnish 
these formal communications, consist- 
ed in making up with skill and judg- 
ment' the summary of news, foreign 
and domestic, from such materials as 
were accessible, and in infusing into 
his columns a due variety of literary 
matter to suit the diverse tastes of his 
readers. The staple of each paper 
was, of course, the news, which must 
generally be selected from the news- 
papers received in exchange from the 
larger towns. To make the selection 
with proper judgment, so as to pre- 
serve a continuous narrative from 
week to week, was a work requiring 
care, and a considerable knowledge 
of public aflfairs abroad, as well as at 
home. But besides this staple of 
news, and besides the stated contribu- 
tions from anonymous contributors of 
the character to which we have allud- 
ed, there must also be in each number 
of the newspaper a certain quantity 
of " poetry," of " wit," and of " mis- 
cellany." These things, like the 
news, must be selected from such 
sources as might be within reach. 

On the second or third page of the 
newspaper, however, under the small 
inside heading, where the date, both 
of place and day of publication, was 
repeated, the printer would insert, 
generally in his' smallest type, such 
few original observations as he might 
have occasion to address directly to 
his readers or correspondents. These 
would sometimes contain references, 
generally brief, to the news contained 
in other parts of the paper, or to 
passing events. Such notices as these 
are the germ of the modern " leading 
article," or article de fond as the 
French call it It is among these 
notices in " The Dartmouth Gazette " 



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Traces in Print of Darnel Webster's Work in College. 65 



that we look for "the foolish para- 
graph " which Mr. Webster says he 
sometimes famished. The extracts 
which we make below are faken from 
the part of the paper thus described ; 
being foand under "The Hanover 
head/' as it is termed. 

Nobody in those days would have 
cared to pay money ^ for such articles 
as those which were furnished to " The 
Dartmouth Gazette" by "Icarus," 
"Cavebo," " Spunkey," and the other 
regular contributors to its columns; 
but Mr. Moses Davis would be very 
glad to have the assistance of a clever 
student in making up the newspaper 
generally ; and he might consider him- 
self fortunate indeed in obtaining the 
services of one so apt for the task as 
"junior Webster." 

Since Mr. Webster's contributions 
to "The Dartmouth Gazette," as we 
have already mentioned, began with 
the first number, it would be interest- 
ing to know whether he was consulted 
in the choice of the motto which was 
printed at the head of the sheet, from 
the first number continuously : — 

"Here range tbe world, explore the dense and 

r«re; 
Aad Ttow all nature In yonr elbo v-ohalr." 

Judge Story, as is well known, 
applied the motto (writing it himself) 
which "The Salem Eegister" has 

» Akttcr to Daniel "Webster ftom his brother 
2»kid, dated 15th May, 1808 (two years after the 
gndnation of the former, and when the latter was 
"Pprooehing the cloee of hJs second year in college), 
throws some light on the scale of compensation 
preraiUng for services in connection with news- 
P«ptw at that Ume. The letter is printed In the 
PdTate Correspondence of Daniel Webster, and 
*oakJ be inexplicable bnt for a note of the editor, 
Mr. Fletcher Webster, stating that It "refers to a 
jeqaest trtxa Mr. Davis to Ezekiel Webster to edit 
'The Dartmouth Oazetto* anonymously." It 
iocs not appear what was the precise character 
«f the arrangement that had been proposed; but 
Hr. Ezckiel Webster declined it : and in the leUer 
to which we refer, he says, " I have now no idea of 
OBdertaUng tbe business. I could not afford to do 
it sndcr two or three dollars a number; and Mr. 
^^■▼is woold be unwilling to give, perhaps, as 
■anyeeota." 



horne at the head of its columns since 
its establith^ient : — 

" Here shall the press the people's rights maintain, 
Unawed by influence, and unbrlbed by gain; 
Here patriot Truth its glorious precepts draw, 
Pledged to religion, liberty, and law." 

Mr. Webster, in 1799, was not un- 
able or unwilling to express himself 
in verse, and might have furnished 
an original motto for " The Dartmouth 
Gazette," had he chosen. Was he, 
perhaps, consulted in the choice of the 
headings, which, agreeably to the cus- 
tom of the time, were given to the 
several departments of the paper ? — 
"Seat of the Muses," for the poetical 
extracts; "Cabinet of Comus," for 
the waggery, which has always formed 
a feature of journalism in this coun- 
try; and the more modest tide of 
" Miscellany," for the literary extracts 
in general ; while " The Moralist," or 
" The Monitor," was used as a head- 
ing to introduce the more serious 
reflections. 

However great or little may have 
been the part of Mr. Webster in 
the selection of news and of lite- 
rary matter for "The Dartmouth 
Gazette " during the first two years 
of its existence, which were nearly 
contemporaneous with the last two 
years of his college life, the work was 
remarkably well done. The file of the 
newspaper now before us would serve 
very well for an encyclopaedia of the 
history of the period ; and it was a 
period of great historical importance. 
It was toward the end of the year 1799 
that Napoleon quitted Egypt, and 
returned to France. The last stages 
of the French occupation of Egypt, 
including the assassination of Kleber, 
as well as the wonderful series of 
events in which Napoleon took part 
in Europe, the revolution of the 18th 
Brumaire, the battle of Marengo, 
and the various steps in the intricate 
complications of European politics, 



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66 Traces in Print of Daniel Webster's Work in College. 



were faithfully chronicled in " The 
Dartpiouth Gazette," as the news of 
each event arrived at irregular inter- 
vals, and always long after the event. 
The battle of Hohenlinden, for in- 
stance, was fought on the 3d Decem- 
ber, 1800. Gen. Moreau's official des- 
patch reporting the action is printed 
in "The Dartmouth Gazette" of 7th 
March, 1801 ; for it is a distinguish- 
ing feature of the manner in which 
the journal was conducted, that im- 
portant official papers were usually 
printed in their integrity. It may 
require an effort of memory on the 
part of college students at the present 
day to recall the fact, that, within the 
present century, it was fresh news to 
describe the battle which gave rise to 
the lines made so familiar to the pres- 
ent generation by every " Class-book " 
and " Reader : " — 

« On Linden when the sun wm low ; ** 

and that Hohenlinden, in 1801, was 
a name as little known as were Sol- 
ferino or Magenta before the wars 'of 
the Second Empire. 

We think we may fairly attribute to 
Mr. Webster's judgment the idea of 
selecting for publication, on occasioif 
of the death of Suwarrow, the passage 
from Shakspeare on the death of 
Wolsey. The number of " The Dart- 
mouth Gazette " for 6th October, 
1800, contains a paper upon this sub- 
ject, which is followed by these words ; 
" When reading the fate of the great 
Suwarrow, we are irresistibly led to 
the recollection of that of Wolsey ; 
and we doubt not the pen of the poet 
will do that justice to the former that 
Shakspeare has done the latter." The 
passage from Henry VIII., begin- 
ning, 

** So farewell to the llUle good yoa bear me I 
Farewell, a long farewell I " 

and concluding^ 



<* And whi;n be fallt^, be falls like Lacifer, 
Never to hope again,'' 

is then printed at length. 

If it is leasonable to presume that 
Mr. Webster had the principal charge 
of making the miscellaneous selections 
of a literary character for the columns 
of "The Dartmouth Gazette," it is 
interesting to note in the number for 
the 4th of August, 1800, an extract 
filling a column, from the " Power of 
Solitude ; an original poem by Joseph 
Story." Mr. Story was by a few years 
Mr. Webster's senior, having been 
bom in 1779. It is not probable that 
they were personally known to each 
other until after Mr. Webster left 
college : perhaps they met on occasion 
of the professional visit to Por4:smouth 
mentioned by Mr. Story in his auto- 
biography; although he does not 
allude to the circumstance, and the 
date is not precisely fixed. This poem 
was written as early as 1798. In a 
letter to Mr. S. P. P. Fay, dated the 
26th of December in that year, Mr. 
Story speaks of it as "the sweet em- 
ployment of my leisure hours." 

Among the poetical extracts is 
Wordsworth's " We are Seven," pref- 
aced with the remark, " The following 
beautiful piece of poetry is taken from 
a small collection called 'Lyrical 
Ballads;'" the name of the author 
not being given. As the first edition of 
the "Lyrical Ballads" was published 
in 1798, it is noteworthy to find this 
extract printed at Hanover in 1800. 
Other pieces of poetry, introduced by 
brief appreciative remarks, are found 
from time to time in " The Dartmouth 
Gazette." 

The treatment of the subject of the 
negotiation of the treaty between the 
United States and France, now known 
as the Convention of 1800, invites 
our attention, because Mr. Webster 
had occasion, many years afterwards, 



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Traces in Print of Daniel Webster's Work in College. 67 



to review the history of that negotia- 
tion in his well-known speech on the 
French Spoliations. The matter was 
one which was watched with eager 
interest throughout the country ; and 
it is evident that a careful eye was 
kept upon it in the preparation of 
«The Dartmouth Gazette." What- 
ever report was received was promptly 
made known in the columns of 
diat paper ; and there are frequent 
references to the fact that no news had 
been received of progress made. As 
is now well known, the commissioners 
on the part of the United States were 
a long time in reaching Paris ; heing 
delayed hy stress of weather, and 
somewhat exceptional accidents duo 
to the disturbed political condition of 
Europe. They had been accredited to 
the Directory, and found Napoleon at 
the head of affairs as first consul. 
Their demand to be put into communi- 
cation with an equal number of min- 
isters endowed with equal plenipoten- 
tiary powers was, however, accorded ; 
but their negotiation was protracted 
over a period of six months, and they 
were constrained to sign a treaty 
which contained no provision for the 
payment of the claims of American 
citizens who had suffered by the 
"spoliations." A reference to this 
subject, together with a reference to 
the claims of the French Grovernment 
upon the Grovernment of the United 
States in respect of alleged violations 
of the earlier treaties between the two 
countries, was contained in the draft 
of the convention which they nego- 
tiated; but this article was struck out 
by the Senate of the United States 
in ratifying the treaty. The argu- 
ment for the payment by the United 
States of a sum to the American 
claimants for spoliations is based upon 
this action of the Senate, taken in 
connection with the curious manner 



in which it was treated hy Napo- 
leon. 

It was in November, 1799, that the 
American commissioners sailed from 
the United States. On the 30th 
March, 1800, they assembled formally 
for the transaction of business in 
Paris; and on the 3d October the 
convention was actually signed, under 
date of the 30th September. 

The embarkation was announced in 
"The Dartmouth Gazette " of 18th 
November, 1799. In the number of 
the 3d Mai;g^, 1800, we read, " On the 
18th of December no information had 
been received in London of the arrival 
of our envoys in France." 12th May, 
"An arrival at Philadelphia from Cadiz 
mentions that our envoys had passed 
through Bordeaux on their way to 
Paris. The Cadiz account is as late 
as the 10th March, and may therefore 
be credited." 26th May: "The arri- 
val- of our Envoys, and their being 
received, is now unquestionable ; and 
it ^^ to be hoped that there will be a 
speedy termination of difficulties, 
provided the termination be founded 
on principles which will be durable." 
16th June : " On account of the in- 
disposition of Bonaparte, the nego- 
tiations with our envoys, are sus- 
pended. Mr. Murray is said to be 
unwell." 21st July: "Our negotia- 
tion with France drags on heavily. 
The latest Paris accounts do not flat- 
ter us with a speedy settlement of our 
affairs with France." 28th July, in 
introducing the summary of foreign 
intelligence : " We do not find a syl- 
lable about our commissionefs." 29th 
September, under date of Raleigh, 
KC, the 2d of that month : " A gen- 
tleman from the seat of government 
says that the Secretary of State has 
received information of the suspen- 
sion of the negotiation between this 
country and France." This news 



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68 Traces in Print of Daniel Webber 's Work in College. 



from Paris, received at Hanover, 
N.H., by way of Washington, and Ra- 
leigh, N.C., if it had any foundation 
in fact, must have referred to some 
temporary hitch in the proceedings. 
A little later, 20th October: <*A 
Washington paper says, * We can 
assert with confidence that no official 
despatches have been received from 
our envoys at Paris, of a date subse- 
quent to the 17th of May ; and that 
our government has no information of 
the actual state of the negotiation 
with France/ '' 25th October: "By 
last evening's mail we received in- 
formation of an arrival at Portland 
from Liverpool, bringing London pa- 
pers to the 31st of August. . . . Gen. 
EUeber has been murdered ; and Gren. 
Menou has succeeded him in his com- 
mand. Nothing certain . respecting 
our envoys,^^ Finally, on the 15th 
of November : " Important. By this 
morning's mail. Paris, Oct. 2. — A 
treaty of friendship and commerce 
between the French Republic and the 
United States of America was signed 
•yesterday by the French ministers- 
plenipotentiary, Joseph Bonaparte, 
C. P. Claret Fleurieu, and Roederer, 
and the American commissioners, 
Oliver Ellsworth, W. Davie, and W. 
Murray. JV^alta surrendered to the 
English the 4th September." 

The paper of the 6th of December, 
1800, contains the message of Presi- 
' dent Adams to Congress on its meet- 
ing, the 22d of November, which 
mentions the reception by the first 
consul of the American envoys " with 
the respect due to their character," 
but states, that, " at the date of the 
last official intelligence, the negotia- 
tion had not terminated." The Con- 
vention, when received, was not made 
public in the United States from the 
official copy, but was communicated to 
the Senate in executive session. It 



is nevertheless printed in full in " The 
Dartmouth Gazette " of the 3d of 
January, 1801 ; the injunction of 
Becrecy being as little heeded by the 
press in those days as in these. It 
should be stated, however, that what 
was thus printed was a translation 
from the French text, as appears 
clearly by the attestation in print, as 
" an exact copy " by Talleyrand, as 
well as by the language, which is not 
precisely that of the English text, to 
which the American press had not 
then access. The translation appears 
to be substantially correct ; but it is 
noteworthy that it concludes, " Done 
at Paris the eighth day Vendemiaire, 
the ninth year of the French Repub- 
lic, and the third of October^ 1800." 
The 3d of October, as we have al- 
ready mentioned, was the day when 
the treaty was actually signed; but 
the date in the official copy, both in the 
French ' and English texts, is " the 
8th Vendemiaire of the year IX, 30th 
September, 1800." ' 

The text of the convention having 
thus been before its readers for a fort- 
night, " The Dartmouth Gazette," in 
its issue of the 17th of January, 
1801, contains the following com- 
ments upon the third page directly 
under " the Hanover head " — 

"The Bridsh spoliationa on American com • 
mcrce amounted to four millions of dollars, 
when Mr. Jay obtained by treaty a prom- 
ise of restitution. The French snoliations 
amount to twenty millions, for which not 
oven a promise of restitution is obtained by 
the late 'convention.' The Britiih treaty 
produced such a convulsion of this country, 
that nothing but the weight of Washington's 
personal character saved the government 
from destruction. The French treaty will^go 
quietly into operation, from the allbctionate 
regard of one party for France, and the prirf- 
ciple of supporting government which actuates 
the other." 

Two weeks later, "The Gazette" 
mentions a report of the rejection by 



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Traces in Print of Daniel Webster^ a Work in College. 69 



the Senate, in executive session, of 
the second article, which, it is men- 
tioned in parenthesis, is that ^'in 
which the suhject of indemnity for 
spoliation is waived." 

We have entered into these details, 
as an interesting illustration of the 
saccessive stages hj which matters 
that have now passed into history 
developed themselves to the careful 
observer who was watching the prog- 
ress of events for the purpose of keep- 
ing the readers of " The Dartmouth 
Gazette " exactly informed in contem- 
porary affairs. It is easy to see that 
the superintendence of the newspaper 
was a valuable school of experience 
for one qualified to profit by the op- 
portunities it offered. 

The paper of 15th November, 1800, 
contains the following: "Single fe- 
males, under certain conditions, are 
allowed to vote in New Jersey. They 
lately exercised their right ; and the 
election terminated federally. This 
proves their fondness for unions 

The following, which^ beyond mis- 
take, is a piece of college waggery, is 
from the paper of 29th November, 
1800 : " Four dollars' reward is offered 
in the Washington paper for a steer 
that has strayed from Georgetown 
College, A description of the animal 
is given; but nothing is said about 
the proficiency he has made in his 
studies." 

An old newspaper file is almost ir- 
resistible ; but we forbear putting our 
readers to the test of further notes 
from that now before us. Before 
leaving it, however, we must remark, 
that even the advertisements possess a 
certain interest, and are suggestive of 
Mr. Webster's opportunities of a kind 
of which we know he was not slow to 
avail himself even at that early period 
of his life. Mr. Moses Davis, the 
"printer" of The " Gazette," kept a 



bookstore ; and his lists of new books 
received, show how intelligent was the 
circle of readers for whose liierary 
tastes he provided. Witness the follow- 
ing : " Lately received at the Hanover 
bookstore, Montesquieu's Spirit of the 
Laws, Stewart's Philosophy of the 
Human Mind, Paley's Philosophy, 
Burlamaqui on Law, Kaimes's Ele- 
ments of Criticism." These standard 
works begin the list, which continues 
with the titles of other books, and ends 
with a miscellaneous catalogue : Gun- 
tor's scales, paints for limners, pen- 
cils of camels' hair for ditto, tooth- 
brushes, steel pencil cases, blank books 
of all sizes, a great variety of pen- 
knives. Even at this day, a student 
would be glad of a chance to forage 
in a warehouse so well supplied. 

Very nearly at the close of his col- 
lege course, Mr. Webster was called 
upon by his classmates to pronounce a 
eulogy upon EphraimSimonds, a mem- 
ber of the class, who died in college. 
The death of young Simonds to6k 
place on the 18th of June, 1801 ; and 
the eulogy appears to have been 
spoken on the eve of the breaking-up 
of the class before commencement. It 
was printed in a pamphlet at the time ; 
and a copy of the originaT edition is 
now before us. Mr. Curtis, in his 
« Life of Daniel Webster," says, " I 
know of but one copy now in exist- 
ence," and adds in a footnote : — 

" The copy of this eulogy which I have 
seen belongs to Mr. Ticknor. ' In 1820/ says 
Mr. Ticknor, *I happened to dine with Mr. 
"Weheter at his own house, while the conven- 
tion to revise the constitution of Massachu- 
setts, of which he was the leading memher, 
was in session; and, sitting next to him 
after dinner, I told him, in the course of con- 
versation, that I had recently found among 
some old pamphlets a copy of the oration 
which he delivered in his senior year on the 
death of his classmate Simonds. He looked 
surprised, and turned suddenly and rather 



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70 Traces in Pmvt of Daniel Webster's Work in College. 



sternly toward me, and said, " Have you ? I 
thought till lately, that, as only a few copies 
of it were printed, they must all have been 
destroyed long ago ; but the other day, Bean, 
who was in coU^^o with me, told me he had 
one. It flashed through my mind, that it must 
have been the last copy in the world, and that, 
if he had it in his pocket, it would be worth 
while to kill him to destroy it from the face 
of the earth. So I recommend you not to 
bring your copy where 1 am." ' " 

Copies of the eulogy, however, were 
not 80 rare as Mr. Webster supposed ; 
nor does there appear to have been any 
good reason why an attempt should 
have been made to Suppress it. Be- 
sides (1) the copy of which Mr. Web- 
ster wa» aware, (2) that which Mr. 
Ticknor had, and (3) that now before 
us, there was a fourth, from which a 
reprint was made at the 'Dartmouth 
press at Hanover, in April, 1855, by 
the Rev. Daniel Kimball, now of 
Rockford, 111. There is, however, 
we believe, no copy either of the 
original or of the reprint in the Bos- 
ton Public Library ; and we shall con- 
clude this paper presently by quoting 
such portions as will^ give our readers 
an adequate idea of its character. 

We have said that there does not ap- 
pear to have been any good reason why 
Mr. Webster should have desired that 
this oration should be forgotten. Mr. 
Curtis very justly remarks with regard 
toit: — 

" There is one other of Mr. Webster's col- 
lege productions which was printed at the 
time. This was a eulogy pronounce at the 
funeral of his classmate Simonds, who died at 
Hanover in June of their senior year. There 
is, perhaps, nothing that so profoundly moves 
a band of college youths as the death of a class- 
mate, especially if it take place at the institu- 
tion. In such a closely-united circle of gen- 
erous and aspiring young men, in the morning 
of lite, Death seems to come with an especial 
shock ; and if his shaft is aimed at one who 
has given more than ordinary promise, and is 
more than usually beloved, there will be inevi- 
tably, firom the nature of the emotions excited 
more than firom any desire to ape the customs 



of the larger and older world, an expression 
of what is felt in the formal funeral oration, 
or other ceremony of that kind. The case of 
Simonds, excepting in the circumstances of 
his death, was just &uch a one as that of whidi 
Landor afterwards said all that can be said in 
such cases, when he wrote the beautiful epi- 
taph, in five words of his masterly Latin, 
over the poor Oxford scholar who had wan- 
dered out in the fields, and died of exhaustion : 

** * Literarum quaBsivit gloriam, 
Dei videU' 

<< This is what youngWebster was appointed 
to say over his classmate Simonds, and what 
he did in substance say, in the more expanded 
form of a public eulogy. I know of but one 
copy now in existence. It is natural, unaf- 
fected, full of feeling and of a strong reli- 
gious faith. It is not, in my judgment, open 
to the criticism which he afterward made upon 
his printed college performances, of being in 
' bad taste ' in respect to its style. Of course, 
it has not the same simplicity which he after- 
ward reached. There arc words which ho would 
have expunged, and sentences which he would 
not have constructed, ten years afterward. But 
it might, if he had chosen to have it so, h%re 
been seen by the world at any period of his life, 
as a not unworthy forerunner of his more ma- 
ture productions ; for it is marked through- 
out by the elevation of thought, as well as 
the tenderness of feeling, that belonged to his 
character." 

And the following glowing words 
from Mr. Choate's eulogy on Mr. 
Webster fitly describe the manner in 
which these early performances should 
be regarded : — 

"Many now alive have said that some of 
his performances having regard to his youth, 
his objects, his topics, his audience, — one on 
the celebration of Independence, one a eulogy 
on a student much beloved, — produced an 
instant effect, and loft a recollection to which 
nothing else could be compared ; which could 
be felt and admitted only, not explained, but 
which now they know were the first sweet tones 
of inexplicable but delightful influence of that 
voice, unconfirmed as yet, and unassured, 
whose more consummate expression charmed 
and suspended the soul of a nation. To read 
these essays now disappoints you somewhat. 
As Quintilian says of Hortensius, 'Apparet 
piacuisse cdiquid eo dicenie quod ieg^ntes rum m- 
venimus,* Some spell there was in the spoken 
word which the reader misses. To find the 



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Traces in Print of Daniel Webster *8 Work in CoUege. 71 



■ecret of that spell, yon mast recall the youth 
of Weheter. Beloved fondly, and appreciated 
by that circle as much as by any audience 
*lai^ger, more exacting, morevariouB, and more 
fit, which afterwards he found anywhere ; known 
to be manly, just, pure, generous, affection- 
ate ; known and felt by his strong will, his high 
aims, his commanding character, his uncom- 
non and difficult studies,— he had every heart's 
wannest good wish with hira when he rose. 
And then, when— unchecked by any very severe 
theory of taste, unoppreased by any dread of 
saying something incompatible with his place 
and fame, or unequal to himself — ho just un- 
locked the deep spring of that eloquent feel- 
ing, which, in connection with his power of 
mere intellect, was such a stupendous psycho- 
logical mystery, and gave heart and soul not 
to the conduct of an argument, or the investi- 
gation and display of a truth of the reason, 
bat to a fervid, beautiful, and prolonged emo- 
tion, to grief, to eulogy, to the patriotism of 
scboburs, — why need we doubt or wonder, as 
they looked on that presiding brow ; the eye 
larcc, sad, unworldly, incapable to be fath- 
omed ; the lip and chin, whose "firmness, as 
of chiselled porfiect marble, profoundcst scnsi- 
Wity alone caused ever to tremble,— why won- 
der at the traditions of the charm which they 
owned, and the fame which they even then 
predicted? " 

The following is the full titlepage 
of the pamphlet containing Mr. Web- 
ster^s eulogy on Simonds : — 

" A fimcra] oration occasioned by the death 
of Ephraim Simonds of Templeton, Massa- 
chusetts^ a member of the senior class in 
Dartmooth college; who died at Hanover, 
(N.H.) on the 18ih of June, 1801, let. 26. 
By Daniel Webster, a classmate of the de- 
ceased. 

* £i viz siutlniiit dicere Ungua volt I* 
Printed at Hanover, by Mqscs Davis, ISOl." 

The dedication is as follows : " To 
Mr. and Mrs. Simonds, parents of a 
greatly beloved but now deceased 
classmate^ this sheet is presented, in 
testimony of respect and sympathy, 
by D. Webster." 

The oration begins as follows : — 

** No one ever ascended the stage to speak 
m a more delicate subject than the loss of a 
companion. It Is a subject that admits not 



the flights of fancy, nor the charms of elo- 
quence. 

''Little, indeed, is he fitted to cull the 
flowers of rhetoric, whose bosom still bleeds 
for the loss of its inmate, whose powers are 
overwhelmed in a ffood of sensibility. 

'*To eulogize kings and heroes, to swell 
the pomp of courtly oratory by building up 
paragraphs of shining and unmeaning pane- 
gyric, were an easy and an insignificant task; 
but it is unnatural to aim at brilliant image- 
ry or elegant diction * when Grief sits heavy 
at the heart.' Hard is it to be formal when 
we feel j to declaim when we would weep. 

" We are at this time assembled for one of 
those solemn purposes imposed on us by the 
common lot of our nature. To hear the dull 
funereal toll, to mark the vestiges and recount 
the triumphs of death, ever have been, and 
ever must be, the mournful business of tnor- 
tals. In consequence of thai eternal, univer- 
sal destiny from which man in vain pleads 
exemption, we now deplore a loss too recent 
to need the ^wers of recollection, and too 
deeply pencilled on the tablets in our bosoms 
to have its colorings heightened by the dashes 
of imagination. Simonds, our brother, our 
feUow-travellcr to the temple of science, our 
morning friend, and our evening companion — 
where is he ? He sits not within these walls ; 
his countenance cheers not the speaker. He 
walks not in the aisles of yonder building; ' 
he is heard no more in our halls. Wo ap- 
proach his late abode on yonder eminence ; 
but no voice bids us welcome : desolate, and 
hung with his garments, it is a sad remem- 
brancer of our loss. Where, then, shall we 
seek for him ? In the cool of evening, when 
gray twilight shrouds the hamlet, shall we find 
him arm in arm with a brother ? Alas I his 
brothers are no more to feel the warmth of 
his hand. Shall we see him hereafter around 
the board of philosophy, or meet him at the 
altar of the Muses? He appears there no 
more forever. Shall we behold him in some 
sequestered glade, retired from the world, and 
wrapped in religious contemplation ? He is 
not there : he is gone, and we see him not 
again. The storm of death has overtaken 
him : it has beaten hard on his temples, and 
he has fallen. 

" In the solemn hour of midnight, when 
the darkness is terrible, and deep sleep fallcth 
on man, the commissioned angel descended 
from the throne of Jehovah, and bore him up 
to the presence of his Judge. 

" All of him that was mortal now lies in 
the chamels of yonder cemetery. By the 



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72 Tra4:es in Print of Daniel Webster's Work in College. 



grass that nods over the mounds of Snmner, 
Merrill, and Cook, now rests a fourth son of 
Dartmouth, constituting another monument 
of man's mortality. The sun, as it sinks to 
the ocean, plays its departing beams on his 
tomb ; but they re-animate him not. The 
cold sod presses on his bosom ; his hands hang 
down in weakness. The bird of the evening 
shouts a melancholy air on the poplar ; but 
her voice is stillness to his ears. While his 
pencil was drawing scenes of future felicity, 
while his soul fluttered on the gay breezes of 
hope, an unseen hand drew the curtain, and 
shut him from our view. The laurels of man- 
hood were just ripening on his brow, the 
principles of future greatness were fast collect- 
ing in his bosom, when death, who, like the 
spouse of Nabis, embraces only to destroy, 
folded him in its iron arms. With him life's 
visionary scenes are over, its fontasies are 
fled. The incidents that checker our human 
existence produce no alteration in his being. 

** Ho seeks the land that no disturbance knows, 
Where the faint slumber, and the tired repose ; 
"Where none at partial fortune can repine, 
Ii'or slave and master on one couch recline ; 
Where heroes' vanity and monarchs' pride 
Are humble as the beggar at their side ; 
Where death Impartial spreads a gloom profound, 
And night and peace and silence reign around." 

The oration proceeds in eulogy of 
Simonds, bearing witness to his Chris- 
tian character with appropriate re- 
flections. It concludes as follows: — 

" While we mourn, let us not moam for 
omrselvcs alone. In sjrmpathy there is noth- 
ing selfish nor contracted ; animated and 
benevolent, its rays are difluscd as widely as 
the strokes of afliiction are felt. There are 
scenes slill more affecting than we have wit- 
nessed; there are bosoms whose sorrow is 
greater than our own. Is anyone here whose 
tears have flown for a son or for a brother ? — 
any one who has felt the heart-rending pangs 
of a separation of those ties which nature forms, 
and love corroborates ? Go to the shades of 
Templeton, to the bosom of a family sur- 
prised by the tidings of death. Your feelings 
shall there be arrested by eloquence that noth- 
ing can resist, — the eloquence of nature, the 
eloquence of grief. A brother's tears, a sis- 
ter's bighs, shall there awake the sjrmpatlietic 
emotions in every heart that is not steeled in 
insensibility. Robed in the sable attire of 
afliiction, you shall there behold a mother 
whose bosom throbs ; you shall see a father 
— but you have seen : lowly bending over 



yonder balustrade, yon have seen the tear of 
age trickle down the cheek of a venerable par- 
ent. With eyes turned towards heaven, yoa 
have seen the struggle between fbrtiiude an^ 
affliction shake his frame. You saw, and did 
you not pity 9 Did not the manliness of silent 
grief heave a sigh from your breasts, that as- 
cended with your morning aspirations, and 
mingled with the hallowed incense of a par- 
ent's prayers at the throne of grace ? 

" But sighs and tears and grief are unavail- 
iog : they enter not the chambers of death ; 
they resuscitate not from the grave. To that 
God, then, in whose hands are life and death, 
whose throne is established in justice, and the 
beams of whose mercy illuminate universal 
being, let us commit our much-loved friend, 
and bid him a cordial and a final farewell ! 

Peace to his shades I And when the general doom 
Shall raise him renovated from the tomb. 
Be grace's white mantle o'er his shoulders spread, 
And the saint's triumph blaze around his head 1 

*' Brothers of the class, this day completes 
the course of our collegiate studies, and 
gives us to the world. The hour of scpar 
ration, ever moiumful among fiiends whose 
hearts are united, to us is doubly mournful 
from the loss of a highly respected class- 
mate. Before to-morrow's sun shall go 
down, we are dispersed. We part, how- 
ever, with the ardent and consoling hope of 
meeting once more, and of taking a more 
solemn adieu on the day of our anniversary. 
But with Simonds we meet not again. The 
parting moment with him is over. Hu has 
already pronounced his valedictory ; he has 
flitted on the wings of a seraph ; he has com- 
menced his eternity. Impressed with this 
rellection, let us retire from the mournful 
business of the present occasion, and, as the 
last best tribute we can pay to his ashes, let 
us subscribe our names, as he did hii, to the 
catalogue of virtue's fncnils. Let his mem- 
ory be embalmed in our bosoms, and, through 
every period of our future life, let his image 
be constantly with us, a monitor to our ac- 
tions ! 

** May those guardian spirits that watch 
around the jast, guide and protect us, togeth- 
er and npart! may A'mighty Grace secure 
us from evil, and energize all our talents in 
the exercise of Christian morality ; end when 
it shall be said of us, that earth embosoms her 
sons, may we then be united with our Simonds 
in that far better country, where the solemn 
dirge shall be exchanged for the sym})honic« 
of Gabriel's harp, and the voice of funeral 
eulogy shall be heard no more 1 " 



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Scrope; or. The Lost Idbrary. 



73 



SCROPE; OR, THE LOST LIBRARY. 

BY FSBD9BI0 B. PERKINS. 
PART IV. 



CHAPTER Xni. 

"And yet there are a great deal 
worse places than that in New York/' 
said Bird, reflectively, as they passed 
up Broadway, beyond Bond Street and 
Great Jones Street. 

"What ones?" said Scrope at 
<mce, and with perceptible eagerness. 
And Adrian, sickened as he was, and 
tiiongh he said nothing, also wanted 
to know. Ever since the Tree of 
Knowledge of Good was also the Tree 
of Knowledge of Evil, man's instinct 
to understand has asked after both. 
As God joined the two knowledges 
together, it is no wonder that man has 
not yet succeeded in putting them 
asunder. And still, there was a great 
difference between the antfbal eager- 
ness of Scrope and the intellectual 
instinct for knowing that stirred in 
Adrian, and which he distrusted while 
be felt it. 

"Well, gentlemen," replied Bird, 
"police reporting is one of the rough- 
est pursuits in the world, I suppose. 
It is in that line that I have seen 
things — Perhaps I'll tell you about 
them some day. But I really can't, 
now — it's too bad. Besides, some 
of the best citizens are interested in 
some of the worst of them." 

"How do you inean?" asked 
Adrian. 

"Why, — now there's that Para- 
dise, for instance," replied the police 
reporter, — for such bis words implied 
that he was — "do you know who 
owns that building ? " 

«No,— who?" 

"It's one of the very worst holes 



on Broadway. There's been two mur- 
ders there that I know of already. 
They break all the ten commahd- 
ments as much as once every ten 
minutes, almost all night. And it 
belongs to one of these eminent capi- 
talist fellows that are so respectable 
and subscribe to all sorts of things. 
Button, his name is." 

" I don't believe it," said Adrian, 
shocked, and impulsively — "I beg 
your pardon, what I mean is that you 
must be mistaken. I know Mr. But- 
ton." 

" Then I beg your pardon, if he is 
a friend of yours. But there's no 
mistake about the fact. You may go 
with me to the register of disreputa- 
ble tenements which the Police keep 
at the Mulberry Street Headquarters, 
with the names of the owners, and 
I'll show it to you written out in full, 
and then you may go and search the 
records of land at the City Hall and 
find the deed to Mr. Button all re- 
corded at length." 

"But why don't they print that 
whole list of names ? " 

"Reason enough; it would show 
that the respectability of New York 
gives houseroom to the crime of New 
York and so maintains it for money." 

"But it isn't possible," persisted 
Adrian. "He don't know it, of 
course. Or he has let the place to 
some one who is misusing it or under- 
letting it against his will." 

"All right," said Bird — "that's 
just the way they talk. As if a man 
like him would own a building on 
Broadway and not know what is done 



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74 



Scrbpe; or, The Lost Libnxry. 



with it ! And as for the misuse against 
his will, — do you suppose he don't 
know that the Paradise is a law- 
hreaking concern every night of the 
year, and that he can have it shut 
now, late as it is, before midnight, if 
he chooses ? " 

Adrian was silent; for the truth 
had hit him very hard. Bird re- 
sumed: 

"Of course there's underletting; 
there's an agent, and a tenant, and 
one or two undertenants. Such 
places pay two or three times as much 
rent as any respectable business could 
pay ; but I don't insinuate that that 
has any thing to do with it. Dear 
me, no ! " 

Adrian said no more, but like a 
straight-forward and clean-hearted 
young fellow as he was, he silently 
resolved that at his first meeting with 
Mr. Button he would reveal to him 
the outrage which he was suffering in 
this matter. ** I'll have the pleasure 
of shutting up one hell-hole," he said 
to himself, as they walked along. 

In a few moments they reached 
the scene of the proposed exhibition : 
a billiard saloon known as " Jack's," 
nearly opposite the New York Hotel. 
They entered through a sort of fancy 
grocery store, and turning short and 
passing through a side door at the 
back, came into the billiard room it- 
self, a large square apartment, imme- 
diately under " Hope Chapel," and of 
course belonging to the same owner. 
A magnificent bar stretched all the 
way across one side; nine full-sized 
tables — none of your trifling three- 
quarters affairs — were orderly dis- 
posed in three ranks upon the ample 
floor, each strongly illuminated with 
its own shaded gas-lights, the wires 
with the wooden beads for marking 
the game strung upon them, hanging 
across above in their long catenary 



curves, and the armory-like racks of 
cues standing stiffly back against the 
wall. The bar-keeper, a far more 
magnificent creature than his guild- 
br9ther of the Paradise (particularly 
as to his curled and shiny hair ; — 
there must be some mysterious real 
connection corresponding to the coin- 
cident first syllables of bar-ber and 
bar-tender < — ) was, however, no less 
assiduous, and was swiftly ministering 
juleps and other rivers of delight — 
" sweet fields arrayed in living green 
(i.e. the juleps) and rivers of de- 
light," to divers persons who stood 
before his shrine. Two of these, 
nearest the new-comers, were in a 
muzzy state, talkative and disputa- 
tious, but imbecilely good humored, 
and were at the moment disQiissing a 
weighty point in orthoepy, perhaps 
none the less interesting to Adrian, 
who was close to them, from the fact 
that of the two methods of spelling 
the word in dispute which they sev- 
erally assorted, neither agreed with 
his own. 

" No 'tain't," said one — « it's J, e, 
r, m, y, e, r." 

" Why no tisn't," said the other, ar- 
ticulating with the most painstaking 
distinctness, — " it's G, u, r, m, i, a^ 
r." 

<< Less arsh thish genlmn," was the 
reply, and they began to submit the 
question of the grand old Hebrew 
moumer-poet-prophet's name to Adri- 
an, who briefly assured them with 
a bow that he didn't know how to spell 
at all, and pushed forward to get 
away from their drunkenness, to the 
front rank of the spectators. These 
were already intently beholding the 
Billiard Tournament, which was in 
progress upon a carom table, the deep 
green of whose cloth testified that it 
had been newly caparisoned, doubt* 
less for this very occasion. 



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Scrape; or, The Lost library. 



75 



The game was what is technically 
called the French game, played with 
one red hall and two white ones, and 
is ahout as much superior to the 
" fdll " or '•' American four-hall game " 
as chess is to draughts. The two he- 
roes who were contending for " a purse 
of SoOO, and the championship/' were 
a couple of serious looking youths, 
Tery husiness-like and thoughtful of 
aspect, hoth trim-huilt, alert, and well- 
made, and with a professional deftness 
of execution very pleasant to see. 
There was nothing so ^^^ remarka- 
ble about their play, which was only 
for the State Championship, and not 
for the vaster supremacy of the con- 
tinent : the whole boundless continent 
was not theirs on the present occasion, 
but a pent-up New York contracted 
their powers. As in this game the 
nerves are at least as important as 
they were to^^Mrs. Wititterly, applause 
or disapproval is as stringently forbid- 
den as it would be at a funeral, and 
the silence that prevailed was almost 
oppressive.. Perhaps a hundred con- 
noisseurs and amateurs were present. 
From one or two distant tables where 
dullanis incapable of a worthy admi- 
ration were pursuing their own selfish 
amusement, the click of the balls, or 
some quiet remark, echoed faintly now 
aud then; or some silly babble from 
a toper at the bar souuded over the 
heads of the* crowd; but they them- 
selves were impassible as Amphic- 
tyons. Once or twice, when some 
brilliant shot round the table restored 
a desperate run, or when the figures 
from some delicately prolonged pro- 
cess of '^nursing" accumulated high, 
an irrepressible murmur of excitement 
just breathed around ; but only to be 
hashed under the warning glance or 
the quiet gesture of the umpire. 

Adrian watched with muclf^njoy- 
ment the graceful and accurate move- 



ments and manipulations of the two 
players, and the almost intelligent 
obedience of the clean ivory balls, that 
travelled about on their geometrical er- 
rands over the green level of the table, 
touching a cushion at one point, giving 
a delicate tap to one ball in afar corner, 
coming straight back home to tap the 
other ball, then trundling off a little 
way and waiting to receive the next 
message. At last the game was up ; 
the winner, with one or two hardy 
and perilous "shots round the table " 
and one brilliant and desperate " draw," 
completed a run of thirty, and the 
breathless marker, standing mace in 
hand, called out « Game I " Then the 
ring broke up, the prize was adjudged ; 
the assembly broke out into a loud 
buzz of conversation and debate ; there 
was prompt application at the bar for 
many drinks; and groups of two, 
three or four at once occupied all the 
tables. 

" Come," said Scrope promptly, 
"let's have a game;" and stepping 
swiftly across to a table still vacant, 
with the quick dexterity of familiar 
custom, he laid his hand on the table, 
just in time to prevent two others 
from reaching it. 

"Here's a table," he exclaimed. 
The two strangers, discomfited, turned 
away with some surly muttering, but 
the etiquette of the billif^^ saloon is 
as the law of the Medes and Persians, 
which altereth not : — " First come 
first served," it saith, — and the^ did 
not resist. The three friends, noth- 
ing loath, took off their coats; each 
man selected his cue from the rack; 
a bullet-headed, short-haired person 
of Irish- American appearance, brought 
them the billiard balls, and they set 
to work at a three-handed game. 

Neither of the three was particular- 
ly skilful, but as their unskilfulness 
was about equal they matched very 



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76 



Serope; or, The Lost Uhrary. 



well; and playing for amuftement 
only, they had a very jolly time of it. 
Scrope's play was reckless, Bird's cau- 
tious and safe, Adrian's well calcu- 
lated and in a certain sense scientific 
because he always played with a defi- 
nite purpose ; but from lack of prac- 
tice his execution was far below his 
ideaL After a while Serope, who had 
been noticing Adrian " lay out " good 
shots and then miss them, observed 
upon it: 

" Vewy ably missed ! " he exclaimed, 
as Adrian's cue ball, a little too deli- 
cately touched, stopped about two 
inches short of the deep red on which 
it should have caromed for three, and 
left a run of thirty or forty on the two 
reds for Bird : — " Vewy ably missed. 
I never saw anybody make so many 
ansome misses in my life. An ole 
boarding-school of them." 

" Yes," said Adrian merrily, " it's 
because I am too scientific and sacri- 
fice every thing to principle. I don't 
envy you your scratches, either. 'Tis 
better to have aimed and missed than 
never to have aimed at all ! And 
here's our worldly friend Mr. Bird, 
who has been picking up our crumbs, 
and is ahead of both your luck and 
my science, just by practical sense 
and industry." 

It was quite true ; it is as true in 
billiards as in trade or in politics, that 
steady attention to business, hard 
work and careful good sense are the 
best' means of accumulation. In 
many other ways also, however, are 
the moralities of this beautiful game, 

— moralities hitherto never developed 

— illustrative of the affairs of life. A 
man's shots, for instance, show his 
character. One player is forever put- 
ting on a twist, or making draw shots, 
and counts in the most unexpected 
manner, forcing the tormented balls 
in every direction by cunning under- 



handed strokes. Another, by sheer 
straight forward force, drives his ball 
far round the table, with long-sighted 
powerful combinations. Another pre- 
fers "follow shots;" softly and deli- 
cately he coaxes the hard ivory balls, 
who quietly do what he wants, but 
don't know that they are coaxed. 
Another still, the cunningest of all, a 
silent monopolizer, gets a corner on 
the balls. He gets the two reds 
"jawed," and stepping back and forth 
round, the comer pocket, counts and 
counts to the paralysis and infuriation 
of the helpless excluded adversary, 
who longs to whack him over the 
head with the butt of his cue. And 
the vicissitudes of the game, moreover, 
prove and exhibit the characters of 
the players like those of li^e. 

However: — the three young men 
played away, and after a time Adrian 
missed one or two easy shots. Now, 
men who would bear a colossal misfor- 
tune with equanimity may get quite 
excited over a game. And in bil- 
liards, there is a very curious but un- 
deniable relation between the player's 
state of mind and his success. Virgil 
has stated the point as if he had been 
inspired with a motto on purpose for 
this game : 

" Possunt quia posse videntur." 

"They can, just because they be- 
lieve it." And vice versa too. The 
first miss was, you may say, pure acci- 
dent, but it damaged Adrian's morale; 
the second shot he did not have faith 
that he would make, and so he did 
not make it. " I guess I sha'n't count 
any more," he said, in a sort of half 
serious discouragement. 

" Take three fingers of Old Burbon 
straight. Ad!" uttered a voice in an 
oracular tone; "that'll set you up 
again. Just like a fly." 

All three of the players looked to 



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Serope; or^ The Lod LSbrary. 



77 



see who was the oracle. It was the 
taller of two jouDg men who had ap- 
proached without being noticed by 
the players, and who had been look- 
ing on in silence for a few moments. 
The shorter was a very dark com- 
plexioned young fellow, natty of cos- 
tume, adorned with jewels of price, 
and very flashy in bearing. The 
other, who had spoken, was big and fat, 
even noticeably so ; and — delicately 
be it intimated — his substance was 
distributed after such a manner that 
the circumference of his waistband 
bore to that of his trousers' leg^ too 
great a ratio for the best sculpturesque 
effect He also was well dressed — in 
the pretentious sense, — being majestic 
in fine black broadcloth, a glossy new 
hat, gloTes, a showy lavender-colored 
waistcoat, a white under-waistcoat, a 
speckled shirt, a bright red cravat, a* 
diamond pin, and a slender cane 
▼hose ivory head was carved in the 
similitude of a plump human leg bent 
at the knee. His face was round and 
fiill and almost puify: his dark hair 
was coarse and straight ; his rather 
thin mustache was elegantly waxed 
into two sticky-looking little horizon- 
td tips, in that fashion that always 
suggests that they are agglutinated 
with the remainder-grease of the last 
meal. His lips were not very thick, 
hat had a sort of over-full look ; and 
they were slightly varnished, and 
their red color thus brought out, by 
the dewy moisture of a perceptible 
exudation of tobacco-spit. His eyes 
were dark, rather small, but quick 
enough, and the black eyebrows were 
nUher thin, like the mustache. 

Before Adrian had time to speak, 
this splendid youth resumed, with a 
jovial haw-haw which exhibited a 
row of tobacco-stained teetli that 
otherwise would have been white 
and regular enough — 



. "Why, by — Ad, you d — d rascal, 
what the" — but really, the oaths must 
be omitted, although it cuts " a mon- 
strous cantle out" of the speaker's 
observations, and deprives us of some- 
thing like half the utterances of his 
great mind, leaving them insipid, like 
a dish of eggs with the yolks all 
picked out. But, as the showman 
says in the burlesque, " the Public 
Heye must and shall be regarded ; " 
in one sentence parenthesized blanks 
may indicate the habitual proportion 
of this speaker's appeals to his Maker, 
and afterwards — as Lord Timothy 
Dexter said about the stops in his style 
of composition, people must "pepper 
and solt it to suit themselves." 

"Why ( )" said the big fat 
young man, "Ad, you ( ) rascal, 
what the ( ) are you doing here, 
( ) you ? Is Saul also among the 
prophets ? " 

" How do you do. Cousin William," 
said Adrian, good humoredly, and it 
must be confessed not without some 
little feeling that he was out of place. 
But where can you play billiards in 
New York — on a decent public 
table — without having rum, tobacco, . 
gambling, profanity and vulgarity in 
the room? — "How do you do? — 
More like a prophet among the Sauls, 
I guess, isn't it ? " 

"Ha! ha! ha I" laughed the 
other, with so voluble an effusion of 
glee, and with eyes so swimming and 
such a swaying of his heavy figure, 
that Adrian instantly perceived that 
he was at least half tipsy ; but even 
while he laughed, he administered a 
mighty slap between Adrian's shoul- 
ders, and then taking his cue out of 
his hand, gave three resounding bangs 
upon the floor. A boy hurried up, in 
obedience to the well-known billiard- 
room summons; and the summoner 
continued, 



Digitized by 



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78 



Serene; or, The Lost Librartf. 



" What's yours, gentlemen ? ** — 
looking to Bird and Scrope — *^ Intro- 
duce me, Adrian," be interrupted; 
" can't drink with an entire stranger 
— against my principles." 

"Mr. Scrope," said Adrian, thus 
appealed to, and making a considera- 
ble effort to seem proud and happy ; 
"My cousin Mr. William Button. 
Yours too : I suppose you missed 
finding him at home. Mr. Bird, a 
member of the press ; " and so on. 
Then Mr. Button in his turn intro- 
duced his short and swarthy compan- 
ion to them all as Mr. Oppenheimer ; 
and therewith he vouched for him 
amidst a perfect storm of oaths, as 
"the sharpest spoji; in this city — 
can't beat me though — hay, Op?'- 
And the whole bowed and shook 
hands all round and round. They 
all attempted to decline drinking, but 
young Button began to be vociferous ; 
enlarging with much vigor on the 
happy occasion of his meeting a new 
cousin, as one most proper for hospi- 
tality; the players at the adjoining 
tables began to look with obvious 
displeasure at the big noisy fellow 
who was disturbing their game, and 
Bird, touching Adrian's elbow, nod- 
ded, as much as to say, "We had 
better do it," and they all consented, 
and jointly remitted to the entertainer 
the choice of liquors. 

" Five Old Burbon straight," said 
Mr. Button, — but Oppenheimer, 
amending, ordered for himself a " soda 
cocktail " instead, saying " You know, 
Bill, my head ain't so strong as yours. 
I can't carry any more." 

The liquors came and were drank, 
and Adrian, though like most persons 
of clean descent and pure health he 
unfeignedly abhorred the abominable 
rank sharp scalding-hot flavor of the 
whiskey, which he swigged down 
pure in obedience to the exhortation 



of his cousin, found to his surprise 
that the sort of stir it . produced 
through every fibre of his frame, 
although he felt in his brain the be- 
ginning of something like a loosening 
of his usual clear perfect command of 
all his wits, somewhat as if a thin hot 
mist or cloud was just beginning to 
gather among them, yet did really 
appear to have re-enforced his bil- 
liard faculties, whatever those are, in 
some way ; for he proceeded to make 
some unusually good runs, and in 
fact came out first, Mr. Bird's econo- 
my carrying him through a good sec- 
ond, while Scrope had the game to pay 
for. 

Very likely, according to that wise 
ordinance of our Maker under which 
the more we lose the more we want 
to keep on and get it back, Scrope 
would have insisted on another game ; 
but he was really good-natured ; and, 
as soon as Bird had completed his 
hundred, Mr. Button, not being quite 
clear in his intellectuals, and not 
having the most correct instincts in 
the world to make up for his lack of 
good training, called out, 

" There you go. Mister Scrope. All 
gone up in a kite I Now see me wipe 
out Brother Oppenheimer. Come, 
Op I " 

And he pulled off his coat and 
proceeded to pick out a cue. The 
"sport," sharper as he was, looked 
rather confused at the invitation, 
but the others, laughing, acquiesced, 
and sat down to look on. The game 
which now followed puzzled Adrian 
for a time. Button, though at least 
half drunk, played a very fair game 
indeed. As for Oppenheimer, Adrian 
observed at once how perfectly cool 
and clear-headed he was; then he 
noticed the extreme neatness of his 
style of play. He used exactly the 
force required, and no more \ the cue 



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Scrape; or, The Zosi Library. 



79 



bally like a trusty middle-aged ser- 
vant with errands^ trundled delib- 
eratelj ofi^ called at a cushion or 
left the duplicate message of a carom, 
and moved just a few steps further 
to a place convenient for setting out 
on the next errand. It was an in- 
structive exhibition to Adrian of 
that judicious play which always 
considers the next shot. But at the 
same time he was struck by the easy 
shots which Oppenheimer missed; 
once a plain short carom; once a 
fair shot round the table ; and Adrian 
was sure that ^ the '^ sport" made 
^ese misses, he as it were relaxed 
muscles and attention together, — 
striking, one might say, with his eyes 
shut Whenever he had done so, 
he muttered some short exclamation 
of disgust, or gave a vexed sort of 
whirl roand on his heels ; while Mr. 
Button exidted over him with eflfu- 
sive, self-exalting and half-tipsy glee. 
Adrian cautiously intimated to Mr. 
Bird something of these observa- 
tions. 

*^0h yes," said that gentleman, in 
his quiet intelligent way ; " that Op- 
penheimer is just playing him off. 
I know him. He sleeps on a billiard 
table every night, — unless sometimes 
it's a faro table for a change. He can 
give points to either of those cham- 
pions we saw over there. He's a first 
class Milliard sharp. You may play 
with him if you want to, and you'll 
win any small bets, if he thinks he 
can coax you into a large one. But 
don't bet a cent more than you are 
willing to lose." 

" I never risked a cent on chances 
yet in my life," said Adrian, quietly, 
" and I don't want to. He'll never 
make any thing out of me." 

" You're a lucky man," said Bird 
with a smile. 

As the game proceeded, Adrian no- 



ticed over and over the same set of 
phenomena he had thus observed, and 
every time he saw the contrast of fine 
play and intentional failure, he won- 
dered more that Button did not see it. 
But conceit and tippling together are 
a very thfck cloud, and the big foolish 
youth was fully convinced that it was 
his own skill that kept him just be- 
hind or just in the lead of his cool 
and steady opponent. Towards the 
close. Button grew more and more 
noisy, laughing and bawling out slang 
observations with every shot whether 
he counted or not. At last there re- 
mained as it happened only one sin- 
gle point for Mr. Button to make, 
while Oppenheimer had let himself 
fall behind twenty-five points; and 
the uproar of the triumphant But- 
ton was becoming tremendous. The 
balls were left, moreover, in one of 
those technically troublesome positions 
which look so desperate to an ordinar 
ry player, the cue ball being " frozen " 
to one of the others, while the rest 
were behind that one and close to- 
gether, so that all four lay in a short 
straight row. Of course, Oppenhei- 
mer could not count if he moved the. 
ball which the cue ball touched ; and 
for a moment he seemed to study the 
position with some little care. As for 
Button, he exulted. Bending over 
the balls, and shading them with his 
hand so as to keep off the reflections 
of the gas-light, he peered intently 
at the focus of interest, where the 
" spot ball " — which was Oppenhei- 
mer's — lay just touching the deep 
red. "Frozen, by " he ex- 
claimed at last. "Tight as Green- 
land. Doctor Kane himself couldn't 
get out of it. Now count, Oppy! 
Gentlemen, see Oppy count now ! " 

" You've got me, William, that's a 
fiact," remarked Mr. Oppenheimer, 
with a discouraged air. "No use 



Digitized by 



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80 



Scrape; or, The Lost Library. 



playing against you and luck togeth- 
er. However, I'll play away from the 
other balls, at any rate." So saying, 
he stepped around to the further side 
from liis cue ball, and quickly and 
almost carelessly placed his left hand 
as a " bridge," in the high way neces- 
sary for playing over other balls ; 
touching the table with three fingers 
only, instead of with the lower rim of 
the palm also, and Adrian, 'watching 
closely, noticed not only the delicate 
moulding of his projecting thumb, 
and the almond shape of his clean 
pink nails, but the coquettish j^er^ of 
his little finger sticking out as a fan- 
ciful lady's does when she lifts a tea- 
cup to her lips, and the sparkle of a 
small bright diamond in a plain gold 
ring on the same little finger. In a 
moment, almost as it seemed without 
looking at the l>alls, the "sport" ad- 
ministered a delicate little dig to the 
cue-ball ; a short stroke, directed from 
above downward almost upon the very 
top of the ball, and that did not seem 
to follow the ball an inch. Button, 
watching his closest to see that the 
" frozen " ball did not move, was baf- 
fled, but said, " No harm, I guess." 

But there was harm. The spot 
ball had received one of those myste- 
rious " twists " somewhat such as are 
given in what are called "mac6 " shots, 
which seem to inform the white ivory 
with the knowledge of a complete 
campaign. Slowly, as if reluctantly, 
but almost whizzing on its own perpen- 
dicular axis, the spot ball crept a few 
inches to the cushion — then leaped 
suddenly away as if it was there that 
its errand was given it, but at an un- 
expectedly wide angle across a comer, 
then taking a second cushion, re- 
bounded accurately upon the two balls 
that had been so snugly sheltered be- 
hind the deep red one; and Oppen- 
heimer had counted two. 



"I declare!" exclaimed Adrian, 
softly, but in great admiration, — and 
watching the " sport," who stood near 
him, he saw, to his surprise, a 
swift subtle smile that just' glim- 
mered as it were for an instant upon 
his dark face, and was instantly 
repressed. Oppenheimer had counted 
on purpose. As for Button, his 
oaths would have terrified a cus- 
tom-house. 

" What for did you want to scratch 
exactly then, I want to know?" he 
asked. 

"I didnH want to scratch. Bill," 
said Oppenheimer, with a neat double 
meaning — "you can't always make 
the balls do what you expect, you 
know ! " — And he played on. 

" Two, five, eight, ten," enumerated 
Adrian to himself, as the sport count- 
ed and counted towards his twenty- 
five, playing always with the same 
swift apparently careless precision — 
and so on up ; — " twenty — twenty- 
two — twenty-four — twenty-No I A 
miss, upon my word ! " 

"Sold again — and I've got the 
money," bawled Button quite beside 
himself, for a miss counts one for the 
opposite party, and Oppenheimer had 
thus beaten himself; and Button 
gave three such bangs on the floor 
with the butt of his cue as if he had 
meant to plant it in the hard Carolina 
pine, as the old Saxon bishop Wul- 
stan of Worcester planted his crosier 
in the marble of Saint Edward the 
Confessor's tomb, rather than yield it 
to the Norman primate Lanfranc. 

" Five more Burbon ! " he vocifer- 
ated, as the boy ran up for the order. 
Everybody refused however. But 
Button, whose views on the subject of 
"treating" were to the full those of 
the foolish, vulgar, rich, rowdy, young 
American — and that drunk — almost 
foamed at the mouth at such a recep- 



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8erope; or, The Lost Library.' 



81 



tion of his hospitality, and swore by a 
great many more things than there 
ire in the universe that if they 
. wouldn't drink with him in honor of 
this yictory, he'd drink all five glasses 
himself. He was the more obstinate, 
as he grew more excited; and they 
were &in to yield once more at least 
in form, even Oppenheimer not insist- 
ing on his harmless alkaline beverage. 

The five drinks came, each flanked 
with its attendant tambler of ice and 
water for mixing; every man took 
his glass ; Adrian prepared to endure 
another half hour of uncomfortable 
sdr within him and of unclean flavor 
in his month. 

Mr. Button lifted his glass with an 
air of triumph ; " Gentlemen," he said, 
"I give you on this occasion " — 

The glass dropped on the floor and 
' smashed into bits among the slop of 
whbkey. The young man's tongue 
Med him at the same moment with 
bis fingers ; so did all his muscles at 
once, and instantaneously he toppled 
over against the billiard table and then 
upon the floor. Adrian and Oppen- 
heimer, who were nearest, instantly 
seized him by the shoulders to lift 
him up. Adrian saw that his face was 
▼eiy red ; his eyes were shut, a little 
thick foam discolored with the juice 
V of the tobacco that was visibly lodged 
in one cheek to make room for swig- 
ging and speaking, was working out 
from between his lips. The lips and 
the whole face were thrilling and 
working as if with shocks of nervous 
pain; the same thrills vibrated 
through the arm and back under both 
of Adrian's hands, and seemed to pass 
OQt through the helpless fingers, which 
dotched and wavered. 

"Put him in a chair here by the 
window," said Oppenheimer, and they 
did 80. Then he quickly opened the 
window, and the eold air of the win- 



try night fell in upon them like a ^ 
block of ice, so solid and pure and 
cold was it, as it broke into the heat- 
ed and gas-lit and perceptibly smoke 
and drink-flavored atmosphere of the 
room. 

Adrian had never been so close to 
such a sight ; " What a horror it is ! " 
he was saying to himself, thinking 
of drunkenness, when Oppenheimer, 
taking up one of the glasses of ice- 
water, poured some into his right hand 
and slopped it upon Button's fore- 
head. It trickled all over his face 
and down upon his shirt-front. No- 
body paid much attention ; a drunken 
man in a billiard saloon is not a black 
swan, nor a black sheep either, for 
that matter. 

" He'll come out of it in a few min- 
utes," said the gambler. 

Bird was looking on in his quiet 
attentive way : " It 's a fit, isn't it ! " 
he said coolly, not questioning, but 
asserting with slight surprise ; then, 
to the gambler, — " Has he had many 
of them?" 

" No — not more than half-a-dozen," 
said the other, — " Tisn't much more 
than a dizziness." 

" Just hold those bits of ice on his 
forehead," suggested Bird. The gam- 
bler did so; and sure enough, in a 
moment or two Button's face and 
whole frame became quiet ; he seemed 
to go into a sleep, breathing softly 
and regularly ; the dark flush began 
to pass from his face ; and in perhaps 
five minutes he opened his eyes in a 
sleepy sort of way and looked round 
as if puzzled to know how he came 
thei^e. 

« What is it ? " he asked — " Guess 
I had another little spasm, didn't I ? " 

** Yes ; but you're all right now," 
said Oppenheimer, and he closed the 
window. Button sat stiU a few 
moments, with a daced sort of look^ 



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somewhat like one awaked before he 
has slept enough. The rest chatted 
about indifferent matters for a few 
minutes; and then the big youth, 
with an effort, laid his hands on the 
arms of his chair and hoisted him- 
self up, saying, 

" Come ; lefs trot out." 

^^ Best thing you can do is to get a 
good long sleep. Bill," said Oppen- 
heimer, very sensibly. But that, as 
it would appear, was no part of Mr. 
Button's plan. He <^ scorned delights, 
and lived laborious days '^and nights 
too; with a double-Milton power 
of labor, for the time being ; though 
what would have been an intolera- 
ble slavery to the pure and lofty 
old poet and scholar, Mr. William 
Button believed to be the strenuous 
pursuit of manly pleasures befit- 
ting a free and independent Ameri- 
can* citizen. JSTor can anybody, even 
though as heavy, not to say strong, 
as Mr. Button, over-draw on his vi- 
tal revenues, without finding sooner 
or later that when the current divi- 
dends are exhausted, his checks have 
been honored out of his capital 
He usually finds it out sooner rather 
than later, and always too soon. It 
was not yet too late for the foolish 
Mr. William Button, if he had only 
known it ; but it was pretty nearly 
too late. 

" Sleep — I '^ was the irritated reply ; 
though the future state (or place) to 
which the speaker relegated the idea 
of repose was precisely that where 
it is commonly least believed to exist. 
Oppenheimer looked a little surprised. 
**Just as you like," he said how- 
ever, with a kind of indifferent ac- 
quiescence, such as one uses with 
a feeble or sick person who is quer- 
ulouj? about trifles; ''just as you 
like, about sleeping there or going 
there; if s all one to me ! " 



"Well, — let's go up stairs, Opp; 
Ad's a stranger; want to show him 
the elephant." 

The gambler gave a swift suspi- 
cious look, not at Button, but at the 
three others. Scrope answered, this 
time. 

'' I guess e means the tiger, watber 
than the helephant, don't e ? Weckon 
we've all visited the animal ? — and he 
looked inquiringly at Bird and Adri- 
an. The police reporter only smiled 
and nodded ; Adrian said he believed 
he knew what the beast was, but had 
never seen him. . Button at once 
insisted on going, and was quite ner- 
vous and fussy about it 

"Well, come on," said Oppenhei- 
mer, adding, "Never saw you so 
fretful before, William — what's the 
matter with you lately?" If Mr. 
Oppenheimer had been familiar with 
epilepsy, he would have recognized 
this fretfulness as a common symp- 
tom ; but neither he nor young But- 
ton himself knew this; indeed, the 
attack he had just had was his first 
clearly pronounced one. The disease 
was just taking a good hold ; or rather 
was just showing the good hold it had 
already taken ; — for the degeneracy 
of brain and nerve tissue which seems 
to be the proximate vehicle of epilep- 
sy works a good while in secret, like 
an engineer approaching by mines 
and getting a good many of them 
placed and loaded before any ex- 
plode. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Thb party, now consisting of five, 
came out from the house that Jack 
kept, and stepping round to the same 
recess in which was the outer en- 
trance to Hope Chapel, Oppenheimer 
entered one of the side doors, led the 
way up two flights of stairsy and ash- 



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ered the rest into a middle-sized room^ 
fronting on Broadway. Here they 
found a dozen persons, gathered round 
a table about the size of a common 
dining table for six, and which was 
covered with green cloth. On a plat- 
£:>rm a few inches high occupying 
most of its surface, was displayed an 
^ array of playing cards, faces upper- 

most. On or among these there lay 
here and there little piles of ivory 
disks an inch or more in diameter, 
some white, some red Back of the 
table sat a tall and sedate looking 
personage, who solemnly drew out 
other cards from a neat little German 
silver case at his right hand. At ' 
every third card, as he turned it and 
showed it, there was some little stir 
among the company : one shifted one 
of the little piles of ivory disks from 
* one card or interval to another; an- 

other placed more disks on his pile ; 
another drew some of them to him- 
self; or the presiding genius took 
some of them ; and a watchful person 
with a little firame something like 
what they call or used to call in pri- 
mary schools an arithmeticon, moved 
« backward and forward small pips 
strung on wires. 

Adrian, who had read divers ac- 
counts of the splendid fittings of 
^ gambling establishments, of their 
noble hospitalities, such as game sup- 
pers, champagne and the like, felt 
rather cheated; however, he quietly 
asked Bird if this was a faro table. 
Bird said it was. 

The five stood watching for a few 
moments. Then young Button, tak- 
. ing a seat at the table, began to ma- 
nipulate disks, which he seemed to 
purchase of the president Mr. Bird 
with much gravity drew forth in his 
turn a bank note and deposited it 
upon the little platform among the 
cards. The president — if that was 



his title — in a moment or two with 
perhaps even more gravity put forth 
his hand and took the same into his 
own possession. Indeed, the card 
part is almost superfluous in this 
transparent and equitable diversion, 
which could be made still simpler and 
of course more beautiful if reduced 
to the plain and brief transaction of 
handing successive five dollar bills 
across a table by one person, to be 
received by another, who should place 
them in his trousers' pocket. This 
would save time, and also the whole 
expense of " lay-oul^" dealing-box, and 
checks ; and ivory in particular, as 
the best authorities both on natural 
history and on commerce inform us, 
grows scarcer and more costly every 
day. 

" Is that all there is to it ? " whis- 
pered Adrian to Bird. 

*f Pretty much," was the reply,— 
'^ onco fn a while the money comes 
back the other way." 

" I don't see much fun in it," re- 
joined Adrian. 

" Ever play, sir ? " joined in Oppen- 
heimer suddenly, apparently having 
overheard 

"No," said Adrian; "never did 
such a thyig in my life." 

" Didn't ? " said Oppenheimer with 
obvious eagerness. " Well, try your 
luck. Come on." 

"Why," said Adrian, civilly, '"I 
don't care the least about it; — be- 
sides, I can't afford it. I'm as poor 
as a rat" 

" Never mind that," said the gam- 
bler. *• Here " — and he pulled some 
notes out of his pocket — " Give me 
great pleasure to furnish you twenty 
dollars to begin with — We'll go in 
cahoot : — fifty if you want." 

But Adrian's healthy nature was 
clean physically and morally " by six- 
teen descents " — and more too ; for he 



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was of almost unmingled blood, of 
the ancient English Puritan type. 
He was as ready for fun as anybody ; 
and he was eager to see, and for in- 
crease of knowledge was willing to 
undergo even the stink of tobacco and 
the almost equally foul fumes of li- 
quor and dirtiness. But it was only 
the wish to know that impelled him ; 
the instinct of an active mind, inquir- 
ing after all truth, and analyzing 
sewerage, if necessary, to get at the 
portion of truth which may be pecu- 
liar to sewerage ; not the instinct of 
the hog, which will eat it and wallow 
in it. He did feel an impulse, not to 
accept the unaccountable offer of Mr. 
Oppenheimer, but to take some of his 
own money and play it away if only 
to ascertain for himself what the sen- 
sation was — if there was any sensa- 
tion. But he was strongly dissuaded 
by the repulsive something which 
quietly but steadily impressed him, as 
a subtle evil quality in an infected air 
comes to weigh upon one's senses. 
He could not see that either Scrope, 
who had been betting a little, Button, 
who was playing away in an eager 
manner, or Bird, who after losing his 
five dollars had looked on with his 
usual quiet air, felt any thing of this 
repulsion. The furniture and fittings 
of the room were meagre and soiled. 
Perhaps the foot- worn old Brussels 
carpet, the faded grease-spotted wall- 
paper with its awkward bunchy pink 
roses, the frowsy old maroon colored 
window-curtains, may have helped this 
feeling. But most of it was from the 
vulgar and evil bearing and atmos- 
phere of the familiars of the place. 
There was no princely personage ; no 
haughty young aristocrat; not even a 
solid banker, infuriated with a species 
of excitement even more hot and hell- 
ish than stock-gambling. Not even 
the likeness of Mr. Bret Harte's self- 



sacrificing scoundrel of an Oakhurst 
could Adrian discern. All the fsLces 
were not only hard and greedy and 
unfeeling and also violent and low^er- 
ing in expression, but of a small, 
mean, vulgar type; so that Adrian 
remembered what he had read some- 
where of some criminal class or popu- 
lation, that they would cut anybody's 
throat to get an old pair of trousers. 

And he steadily declined the press- 
ing and not particularly elegant ofifi- 
ciousness of Mr. Oppenheimer. Tliis 
gentleman's insinuating smile, after 
a few minutes, suddenly deserted 
himy and he darted a very ugly look 
at Adrian, muttering something about 
''beats," and then looking across at 
the president of the bank^ he made 
some sign or other. 

There was an immediate stir among 
the company, who arose as with one 
consent, president and all, leavijig 
Button alone at the table. Several 
very elaborate oaths were sworn, 
which somehow seemed to ^driau not 
improper, but, like weeds on a dung- 
hill, simply the natural product of 
the place. Three or four of the men 
stepped to the door and stood there 
as if to prevent exit ; the others, turn- 
ing, and with murmurs more or less 
indistinct, bent scowling countenances 
upon the visitors. The chief or deal- 
er, nearly opposite to whom, a little 
to the left, Adrian had been standing, 
was stepping around that end of the 
table, apparently with some vengeful 
intent. Adrian, startled and uncom- 
fortable, watching all this movement, 
heard the dealer say something about 
"playing any d— d games on a party 
of gentlemen about their private busi- 
ness." As he uttered these words in 
a m^st growling and inauspicious 
manner, he was moving close past 
Bird, who stood at Adrian's left. 
Adrian heard his companion say in a 



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low tone something of which he only 
caught the words — " On the square 
— quit it, Jimmy" — and he made 
some very quick gesture or other, as if 
to button his coat or reach after some 
weapon or other article, in or under 
the breast of the same. Whatever it 
was that was done or said, its opera- 
tion upon the indignation of the deal- 
er was as instantaneous as the touch 
of oil to water in which a bit of cam- 
phor is travelling. In an instant^ 
the fellow was perfectly motionless. 
Then he turned, and saying "Beg 
pardon — all right, gentlemen," re- 
sumed his place, and the whole trouble, 
whatever it was, fell instantly to the 
previous dead calm. 

Mr. Bird, now looking at his watch, 
said aloud, " Well, boys, I must go ; — 
wiU you come ? " 

Adrian assented; so did Scrope; 
as for Button, he swore he wouldn't 
until he'd got that last twenty-five 
dollars back. Bird looked at the 
dealer — at least Adrian thought so — 
At any rate that worthy promptly 
laid down the cards he had taken up, 
and said in a very peremptory tone, 

** Bank's closed, gentlemen." 

Button still grumbled; but the 
dealer coolly seized the pile of white 
checks before the young gentleman, 
gave him some bank-notes, which he 
counted out as if constituting an un- 
derstood equivalent, and without pay- 
ing the least attention to his irritated 
leclamations, arose and turned off the 
gas from the large burners which illu- 
minated the faro table, leaving it in 
the comparatively dim light of the rest 
of the room. Again there .was a gen- 
enU movement ; but this time only of 
dispersion ; and Bird, Scrope, Adrian 
and Button went down stair^, Mr. 
Oppenheimer remaining. Adrian had 
politely testified to the last gentle- 
man, his obligations for guidance as 



well as /or proffered financial aid, but 
the gambler was quite curt and un- 
genial in his reply. 

From the outer door they all went 
together up Broadway to Union 
Square. Button, after divers mur- 
murs and complaints, admitted that 
he was tired out. Indeed, they were 
all pretty tired, and Adrian not the 
least so ; for he had been on his feet 
since early in the morning; and 
travelling in the iron-bound streets of 
New York is peculiarly exhausting to 
those unaccustomed to the unyielding 
footihg of the stone. 

As they went, Adrian, questioning 
with interest about the scene they 
had left, found that it was one of 
those minor haunts of gamblers which 
the police call a " skin game ; " i.e., 
where the object is to (metaphorically) 
skin the visitors ; that the company 
they had found there were "ropers- 
in" or "cappers," to wit mere de- 
coys. 

"The fact is," said Bird, "if it 
hadn't been that Jimmy Dexter the 
dealer knew I was in with the police 
authorities, they might have made it 
a little awkward for you. They get 
mad very easily, if they see any rea- 
son for it. Your refusing to play 
vexed friend Oppenheimer." 

"I don't see why," said Adrian; 
" and what on earth made him offer 
me money ? I never beard of such a 
thing." 

"Don't you know?" said Bird, 
"Many gamblers believe a man is 
sure to win the first time he plays. 
He was going in cahoot, you know — 
to have half the winnings; and he 
looks on it that you have kept him out 
of 80 much money." 

At Fourteenth Street they parted, 
all four going different ways ; Button 
on a Fourth Avenue car, Scrope on a 
Broadway car, Bird on a down town 



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car — having, he said, to go to one of 
the newspaper offices, late as it was ; 
while Adrian though weary, preferred 
to walk at least part of the way to his 
quarters, for the sake of refreshing 
himself with a little out-door air after 
his triple seething in the hot close 
filth of concert-saloon, hilliard-room 
and gambling-hole. 

As he went, he meditated, the 
series of his thoughts running some- 
what as follows : 

" Lucky it isn't William that I'm 
engaged to ! — !Rather undesirable 
brother-in-law ! — However, no dan- 
ger that Ann will let him infest her 
household much ! — Hope Mr. Button 
doesn't own Hope Chapel building 
too! — Wonder if I could get a copy, 
of that police list of New York good 
men that own bad houses? — 
Shouldn't like to have a quarrel with 
Mr. Button over that concert saloon 
tenement! — Wliat a defiling even- 
ing ! Makes one feel unclean through 
and through ! Touch pitch — I don't 
envy this Mr. Bird his other experi- 
ences that he wouldn't tell — Sha'n't 
ask him either; I've dived deep 
enough for my purposes ! — No use 
to try to do any thing for William, 
I'm afraid — Fit, too ; — I've heard 
that epilepsy never lets go if it once 
gets hold — Fitzwilliam, I suppose 
Scrope will be calling him — Sorry 
for hi^ father " — 

And so on, his mind rambling 
round and round amongst th9 par- 
ticular web of circumstances closest 
to him at the time, until he reached 
his boarding-house, on one of the 
cross streets near the since disused 
Twenty-Seventh Street Railroad Sta- 
tion. Here, after a good deal of 
trouble, he was admitted, and with 
profuse apologies he retired to the 
small '* hall bedroom" which was bis 



lair for the time being, and at once 
went to bed. 

He fell asleep instantly ; but some 
broken and disjected members of his 
waking thoughts still haunted him 
in his dreads. Their fantastic and 
unwelcome nature may have been 
partly caused by a still remaining 
evil effect of the nasty liquors of 
which he had twice partaken that 
evening. Perhaps some additional 
unpleasantness may have accrued from 
the endemic co-tenants of his bed ; 
for nothing in the experiences of his 
own home, cleanliest of the cleanly 
homes of old Hartford, had prepared 
him for these blood-sucking vexations. 
To inquire whether or no any pro- 
phetic force or quality was concerned 
or contained in these dreams, wQ^uld 
be to raise questions even deeper 
than those of entomology or hygiene. 

Whatever the causes, however, it is 
certain that at some time in that 
night he dreamed a grotesque and 
disagreeable dream, one of those pe- 
<5uliarly distinct and truthful-seeming 
ones that occasionally come to us, 
and which leave^ in the mind the 
memory as of a real past experience. 
It appeared to him that he was with 
difficulty making his way westward 
along the sidewalk on the north side 
of Pearl Street, Hartford, between 
Main and Trumbull Streets. The 
walk was one unbroken sheet of 
and the weather 



are ice/ 



was 



bitter cold. As he slid and tottered 
unsteadily along, he suddenly, — but 
with a horror singularly in the reverse 
of what must have been his waking 
feelings at an appeal from that voice, 
— heard himself called by name, but 
in a jeering and most ill-natured 
manner, by his own lady-love — 
Miss Ann Jacintha Button. " Here, 
here, you fool!" she scolded, in a 
sharp high tone — "why don't you 



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wMt for me ! Wait, I tell you ! '* 
Bat scared most unifeasonab] j by the 
call, he seemed to redouble what be- 
came a frantic effort to escape instead 
of a mere unstable but decorous pro- 
gress along the street ; and looking 
behind in his fright, he saw Miss But- 
ton skating, — as it were, — with ter- 
rific velocity upon his traces, her arms 
outstretched as if to seize him, with 
something of the fell and fatal per- 
tinacity of Death after the Youth in 
the New England Primer — 

^ YmOh forward slips «- 
Death soonest nips." 

With horribly inefficient increase 
of effort, he scrambled onward, think- 
ing " I'll get round the comer of Trum- 
bdl Street in a minute, and then I'll 
nm ! " — though why he should not 
bare adopted this unutterably base 
and cowardly expedient at once, he 
coald not have told, — unless be- 
cause he must have tumbled down. 
Still he strove forward, while the calls 
and jeers and reproaches of the pursu- 
ing maiden grew as voluble and furi- 
OQs as the magical voices that in the 
Arabian tale beset persons ascending 
the hill on their road to the Talking 
Bird, the Singing Tree and the Yellow 
Water. Persons met him and passed 
him, looking with open contempt 
upon his flight ; and ever and anon 
Hiss Button threw in a sarcastic re- 
quest to them to "see that fool try- 
ing to run away I " The icy side- 
walk of the single block from the Pearl 
Street Church to the Town Clerk's 
Office seemed to stretch into a per- 
spective as hopeless as the whole 
Great Arctic Floe; and just as his 
fright, his vexation at not getting 
forward, and his mortification at 
making such an exhibition in public, 
began to be further complicated by 
fantastic doubts as to the topographi- 
cal possibilities of what he was ac- 



tually about, he woke, with an incred- 
ible sense of relief, and before he fell 
asleep again, he puzzled himself for 
a long time, trying to decide whether 
there was any rational element in the 
vision. Possibly the fact of his mak- 
ing the inquiry may have been evi- 
dence for the affirmative ; but if so, 
it was without any consciousness or 
assent on his part 

CHAPTER XV. 

The proposed " see-ance " (that is 
what most of them call it, with accent 
on the first syllable, doubtless suppos- 
ing it to mean a session of seers) of 
the next day being postponed for 
some reason or other, Adrian passed 
his Thursday and Friday in sight- 
seeing and other varied occupations, 
taking care to find pretexts 'for calling 
two or three times at Mr. Van Braam's 
and once or twice at Mr. Button's, as 
was right and proper. He also met 
more than once Mr. Serope and Mr. 
Scrope's new friend Bird the police 
reporter, with whom the free and 
easy young Englishman seemed to 
have struck up a friendship almost 
as prompt and absorbing as that of 
the soulful maiden in " The Rovers, 
or. The Double Arrangement," who, 
after two minutes' converse with 
another soulful maiden that she has 
never met before, exclaims, "A sud- 
den thought strikes me — let us 
swear an eternal friendship ! " 

Mr. Bird was, however, in fact a 
"very nice fellow." He was quiet, 
silent rather than talkative, but had a 
way of knowing every thing — with- 
in a certain range, that is, — giying 
a clear and sufficient account of it 
if applied to, in a perfectly unpre- 
tending manner;. and there was an 
air of steadiness and coolness that 
somehow made him comfortable to be 
with. Besides, he was willing to go 



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anywhere, provided his professional 
duties, which were somewhat irregu- 
lar, allowed, and as his knowledge of 
the evil side of city life appeared — so 
far at least — to be peculiarly complete, 
he was just the guide, philosopher 
and friend that the scatter-brained 
Scrope wanted. Indeed, Scrope urged 
Adrian to go with him and Bird 
on more than one voyage of in- 
quiry during these same two days; 
but the young man had had quite 
enough for the present of the subsoil- 
ing investigations that seemed so 
delightful to the Englishman; and 
the more mysterious and enthusiastic 
Scrope became in his descriptions and 
anticipations, the less did Adrian rel- 
ish either the pursuit or the pursuer. 
Bird seemed totally indifferent as to 
these expeditions themselves, and to 
be actuated only by a pleasant good- 
natured willingness to obtain for the 
eager young foreigner any knowledge 
or experience whatever that he might 
desire, without raising any question 
about good or evil. 

On the evening of Friday, however, 
Adrian and Civille made their ap- 
pearance in due season at the little 
hall which was the usual gathering- 
place of the Solidarity de VAvenir ; 
a rather close and fusty upper room 
in a public building in the neighbor- 
hood of Stuyvesant Place. It is a 
discouraging fact that reforming as- 
semblies are usually almost as ill ven- 
tilated as primary meetings. If the 
founders of the New Patent Future 
don't provide clean fresh atmos- 
pheric air to begin with, they need 
not expect they can bring about 
a clean fresh social atmosphere. A 
dirty philosopher may perhaps by pos- 
sible exception teach a clean philoso- 
phy. So may a frail and crooked- 
looking person possess a good deal of 
strength ; but it is not probable. 



Adrian and Civille accommodated 
themselves with seats pretty near the 
desk, somewhat at one side, and 
which, by virtue of a curve in the 
line of the seats, gave a view both of 
the little stage and of all the auditors. 
They had hardly settled themsejves 
in their places, before Messrs. Scrope 
and Bird — who, it will be remem* 
bered, had received from Miss Civille, 
permission to be present, — and Mr. 
William Button along with them, 
who had not received any such per* 
mission, — walked gravely in, and 
espying the young people, came and 
ensconced themselves, after salutation 
due, behind them; Bird behind Ci- 
ville, Scrope behind Adrian, next to 
the right and Button at Scrope's 
right, so as to be furthest from Civille ; 
a diagram apparently laid down by 
pure chance, but which very neatly rep- 
resented the spiritual relations of the 
five ; Civille and Adrian (for instance) 
perhaps not very far from the same 
line, but Civille at the left or heart 
side ; Bird very decidedly behind her ; 
Scrope at least as much further from 
her as the hypothenuse of a right an- 
gled triangle is longer than a side ; 
and Button at a trapezoidal distance. 
The room .rapidly filled up with men 
and women, a good many of the lat- 
ter coming without masculine escort ; 
it was not long before every seat was 
full, and a number of later comers 
were forced to stand in a row next the 
walls. A grave and tall old man 
with long thick iron-gray hair 
combed smoothly back over his head 
and behind his ears, arose from one 
of the side seats and took the chair. 
There was a sort of expectant inter- 
val of a few minutes, and a buzz of 
whispering talk like a thin acoustic 
cloud floating at the level of the peo- 
ple's heads. To this our quintette of 
friends quietly contributed. 



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** How d'ye like the looks of the 
Sotidarity de Lavenoo ? '^ asked Mr. 
William Batton^ among the others, 
in Adrian's right ear. A spirituous 
incense on his breath floated round at 
the same time to his hearer's nose. 
"All very nice, so £«," replied 

I Adrian, smiUng at the young gentle- 

I man's joke. 

[ " Queer crowd," pursued Button — 

"like boarding-house butter — more 
hair than fat'' 

This, though inelegant in point of 
ihetoric, was a very just observation 
in substance, as Adrian perceived to 
his great amusement as he glanced 
around the room. In truth, he thought 
to himse^ that Button alone was 
probably possessed of more fat than 
•n the rest of the assembly. They 

I . were terribly skinny, indeed, almost 

I* all of them, with hollow eyes, lank 
cheeks, and frames as spare as if 
the assembly was a congress of 
clothes-horses. Adrian fancied they 
had all been desiccated in some hot 
diy air, and he had a feeling as if it 
was still playing about among them. 
Sensitive to impressions and atmos- 
pheres, he seemed almost to feel that 
his own lips and his eyes were begin- 
ning to parch a little; that he was 
beginning to dry up in the heat that 

» seemed to quiver in the crowded room. 

' In troth he had entered into a new 

world ; the thin ghostly windy over^ 
heated oven-dried world of Talking 
Befbrm Enthusiasts, that he had so 
often heard of, but had never really 
toQched and felt; that strange un- 
led buzz, of mere good intention 
with so little morality or religion 
mingling in it, so little positive con- 
ttroctive intellect, above all so infi- 
nitely less of real powe^ — of common 
•ease. A fontastic realm is theirs, 
situated, like the Nephelococcygia, 
the doud-bird-land, of Aristophanes, 



between the heavens and the earth. 
Here they flit, with no footing on 
the one, and no reach into the other, 
yet with a feeling that like the Birds 
of the witty Greek dramatist they 
are managing both. But they have 
no hold. Like the ghosts that 
flocked ab^ut Ulysses at the entrance 
to Hades, their own unsubstantiality 
repels them when they try to grasp. 
A curious further detail or two of anal- 
ogy might be traced between those 
melancholy Odyssean shades and our 
Talking Enthusiasts of to-day. They 
are querulous ; there is something re- 
mote and thin in all their utterances ; 
they gibber; and some of them at 
least — such as the extreme Eed 
Erepublicans for instance, make their 
nearest approach to a substantial and 
efficient life by drinking warm blood. 

The present occasion, too, although 
Adi'ian had not been told of it, was a 
grand field day or General Muster, 
such as should take place for every 
army from time to time, to serve as 
roll-call, to enable the force to en- 
courage itself by the sight of its 
whole proud self all together and by 
the consciousness of its power in 
unison; and to maintain habits of 
associated activity and concerted 
effort The hosts of progress — 
or rather Progress, — were here in 
presence. Hosts is the word; for 
each of those skinny ipiddle-aged 
women, each of those lank long- 
haired, dried-eyed men, is a host in 
hj^yjself — if you will accept the 
host's own word for it. 

Another trait in this assembly was 
very striking to Adrian. This was 
the exceptional forms of the heads. 
In a State legislature, in the repre- 
sentative deliberative assembly of a 
powerful religious sect, the large 
average size of the heads may be 
noticeable^ or .their average height 



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— ' and sometimes their average bald- 
ness; but they are almost all heads 
that do not greatly vary from a usual 
form. But the Solidariti looked in 
this particular like the head-maker's 
lumber-room for bad jobs. Some of 
the people had over-large brains on thin 
weak necks ; some of the heads were 
small and over-intense; some were odd- 
ly high and narrow ; some bulged up- 
ward and forward; some were cut 
short oflf in a perpendicular line 
close behind the ears ; som^ shot out 
in a shelving slope over the eyes; 
some poked up and back into a peak 
at the crown. 

Adrian, studying this grotesque 
assortment of exteriors, and musing 
upon the spirit of the assembly, strove 
to apprehend some element in it 
which might seem a reasonable point 
of sympathy for attracting such a 
finely and sensitively organized per- 
son as Civille. The best conclusion 
he could reach was, however, that 
there must be in her an appreciation 
of their good intentions, and a loving 
charity, together large and strong 
enough to silence any repugnance 
that she might feel from* the side of 
taste, or any jeers from the mirthful 
side of her nature. A prioriy most 
certainly, one would judge that a 
fastidious and delicately cultured lady 
could only have laughed, or looked the 
other way. As it was, she seemed 
to him almost like a solitary Sister 
of Charity in a hospital full of harm- 
less lunatics. 

— The gray haired old chairman 
rapped thrice upon the desk : 

— "The Solidarite will please 
come to order ! " 

— " Don Eodrigo Scipio de Nada, 
of Cuba, will address the friends, on 
the Progress of the Physical Sciences." 

Don Bodrigo^ a short slight little 
man, veiy gentlemanly in dress and 



bearing, with black eyes and hsiri 
a dark complexion, a pleasant face, a 
smiling and courtly manner, on this 
stepped forward from one of the front 
seats and opened the business of the 
evening. Nobody could possibly 
have surmised what the graceful little 
gentleman was going to say. He 
began with a well worded apology for 
his English, — which did not need it, 
— and then went on somewhat thus : 

" One of the Physical Sciences re- 
cently investigated with the most ac- 
tive interest is Optics. — If we admit 
a beam of the sun's light through a 
small hole into a dark room, and cause 
it to fall upon a smooth white 'surfiaoe 
after passing through a triangular 
piece of glass called a prism, there will 
be seen upon the white surface not a 
spot of white light, but a bar composed 
of successive portions of different col- 
ors. This is caUed the Solar Spectrum." 

And so on ; being the merest rudi- 
ments of the subject, as given in any 
school philosophy. Poor little Dob 
Eodrigo ! His notions about the 
average attainments of a probable au- 
dience in that community were b^ed 
on the condition of common schools 
in Cuba. He was importing coals into 
Newcastle as fast as he could; you 
may say of the bituminous variety 
too, by the spontaneously combustible 
tendency which was quickly devel- 
oped. For a few moments the hearers 
were mannerly and quiet enough ; 
then they began to whisper and gig^ 
gle ; to grow restless and stir abont 
in their seats. An odd looking bald 
man, very dusty of aspect, in a brown 
coat, hopped up at the further side of 
the room and opened his mouth, with 
the obvious purpose of interruptingi 
but was exited itiously pulled down 
again by a more forbearing compan- 
ion, which enterprise caused a ripple 
of laughter, and Don Eodrigo paused 



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a moment in innocent wonder. In a 
few moments more the bald man made 
another vain attempt to hop up. Al- 
most at the same time, another queer 
looking person with a sharp wrinkled 
face and dyed hair and beard,— 
though really queerness in that assem- 
bly consisted in not being queer — 
with the same jerkiness of action as 
the bald man's, also hopped up, and 
being either less fortunate in a com- 
panion or more powerful in resolution 
or • in physique, he completed his 
nefarious, or at least discourteous, 
design. " Mr. Chairman," he snapped 
out in a high sharp key, speaking 
Tery fast and fidgety, and growing 
madder as he went on, " Mr. Chairman, 
I think the gentleman had better stop 
right here. I didn't come here to- 
night to be told a lot of stuff that I 
learned when I was a little boy at 
school. He's wasting the time of this 
meeting, when it ought to be occupied 
in promoting the greatest interest of 
the human race." 

A strange cracked feminine voice 
a little behind Adrian squealed out, 

" I think the brother's quite right." 

Don Bodrigo, altogether dismayed, 
surrendered at once, and crept humbly 
back from the stage to his place, where 
he sat immovable and distraught, all 
the rest of the evening, gazing at the 
toes of his neat little boots, as uncon- 
scious of the collision of majestic intel- 
lects that was going on around him 
as one of the corpses in Kaulbach's 
great picture, of the furious war- 
rior- wraiths contending in the air 
above. 

The cracked squealing voice re- 
sumed; 

"Mr. Chairman I" — 

The chairman gav^ an uneasy look' 
around him, like one who seeks shel- 
ter fin>m an impending shower. Ci- 
Tille whispered to Adrian^ who was 



with extreme difficidty preserving a 
grave countenance, 

"It's Mrs. Gloriana Babbles the 
Inspirational Speaking Medium. 
She's a little troublesome sometimes, 
for the spirits that control her have 
many things to say." 

Adrian turned and gazed at Mrs. 
Babbles with a good deal of interest, 
for it was his first close view of one 
of the prophetesses of the period, and 
she was only three seats away. She 
was, it is needless to say, skinny; 
but in a superlative degree : so that 
the idea occurred to Adrian's naughty 
mind, whether in such a case the Cu- 
ticle might not admit of gores being 
cut but at the sides of elsewhere, as 
they treat over-full garments, the 
slits thus formed to be neatly sewed 
together, thus restoring a smooth fit 
Otherwise, the good lady, like Mrs. 
Gamp, had "the remains of a fine 
woman" about her. She had once 
possessed a quite comely face, and a 
good figure. But little beside the 
bones was left to show it; her blue 
eyes were faded and sunken in deep 
sockets ; the lips, thin and pale, were 
a little crowded by the artificial teeth ; 
the whole face had a dried look ; the 
long stringy curls that dangled at 
either side of her head looked wispy 
and fatigued ; and her voice, besides 
being cracked and high and thin, was 
curiously nasal withal ; a falsetto- 
soprano squeal through the nose. 

" Mister Chairman," she began, " I 
am impressed this evening with the 
greatness of the work before us. 
Brethren and sisters," — Adrian, look- 
ing back to the chairman, saw that 
the old gentleman's face had assumed 
a grotesque expression of rueful en- 
durance, and he drew a very long 
breath to the same effect — But at 
the moment up jumped again the 
guardian angel with dyed hair^ 



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— "A shadow like an angel, with bright 
hair 
Dabbled in c?y«," — 

snapped out that he rose to a point 
of order, and therewithal he moved 
that all speeches be limited to five 
minutes. This was seconded, Adrian 
thought, by almost everybody in the 
room, and was carried by an enolrmous 
majority, the cracked voice of Mrs. 
Babbles being prominent among the 
few negatives. 

"Dear friends," resumed the me- 
dium, waving about in a sort of 
rhythmic motion, " I sorrow that such 
narrow limitations should be laid 
upon the spirit-utterance. Yet the 
loss is yours. I am impressed to reveal 
to you the sure approach of the 
glorious day of spiritual enlargement. 
I see, in the immediate future, bright 
traces of the wondrous sunrise of 
spirit freedom, of spirit love, of spirit 
happiness " — 

And so on. At the end of five 
minutes sharp, rap rap rap! went 
the old chairman's gavel with most 
emphatic good will ; and Mrs. Bab- 
bles succumbed at once. 

Then succeeded a number of speak- 
ers, some on one subject and some 
on another, some of whom were in 
the most shameless and partial man- 
ner allowed to transgress the whole- 
some five-minute rule. Mrs. Babbles 
murmured audibly at this more than 
once, but in vain. A spirit of oppres- 
sion was present, and she could not 
resist it. Adrian listened, in wonder 
at the immense range of views which 
were presented — from the extremest 
intolerant Calvinist piety to the most 
utter denial of any thing superhu- 
man or of a distinction between right 
and wrong ; from absolute materialism 
to absolute spiritism ; from a servile 
obedience to organized legality, to 
the jumpiugest individual freedom. 



Equally was he struck with the fan- 
tastic nature of the suggestions thrown 
out, at their astounding disconnected- 
ness, and at the wonderful tolerance 
of the speakers, which was very genu- 
ine, and very funny ; for it consist- 
ed, not so much in giving hospi- 
tality to other people's views, as in 
being patient while other people 
snubbed your own. They snapped 
and snarled, as if ready to bite one 
another's heads off; the mordant dusty 
dyed man getting full as many nips 
as he gave, and though everybody 
spoke as irritably as if they all had 
neuralgia, yet nobody resented it. 
They were no more civil, and no more 
resentful, than so many members of 
the Peace Society; which indeed a 
good many of them were. 

But the jumble was terrific. There 
was a neat little brown-eyed woman 
who solemnly told in an absorbed 
manner and with a sweet voice how 
her prayers had already slain the Pope 
of Bome, and how the Scarlet Lady 
was in consequence on or before the 
seventh day of the seventh month of 
the seventh year firom that, to be fi- 
nally dislodged from her sevenfold 
seat There was Mr. Jobraker the 
Linguist with his new Universal Lan- 
guage, in which he delivered a short 
address, after explaining that as this 
language was based on the principles 
of the universe, all those who were in 
the right relations to the universe 
would understand every syllable. The 
alternative was ol^vious, and Adrian 
had to conclude that his relations 
were not right — if Mr. Jobraker was ; 
for he could hear in the new language 
only a hash of uncouth noises. Then 
arose a woman who developed a theo- 
ry that only women have souls ; men 
having none, but only enough of a 
sort of animal intelligence to fit them 
for waiting on the ladies. This was 



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received with a good deal of applause, 
in which the oppressed Mrs. Babbles 
was particalarlj vehement. There 
was a man whose view was that only 
the Old Testament should be regarded 
at the authoritative scriptures, for the 
reason that neither Christ nor any 
New Testament writer had command- 
ed or recommended any such book kx 
writing except the Old Testament; 
there was a person, with the puzzled 
and weary look of one that labors 
among thoughts too heavy for him, 
and, whose eyes gleamed with incipi- 
ent madness, who delivered an inco- 
herent discourse, stuffed with Latin 
and Greek references, upon the com- 
ing renewal of all things, which, he 
said, was in English, the Period of 
Cosmopolitics ; but should more prop- 
edy be called by the name (well adapt- 
ed to convey a hint of the confounding 
of all relations together) — The Epi- 
kataparastasis. Upon this poor fel- 
low the five-minute rule was ruth- 
lessly enforced. There was a gentle- 
man who was just returned from a 
great city in the interior of Africa, 
accompanied by a native chieftaili 
therefrom ; — the names, as nearly as 
Adrian could get at them were, the 
citj of Ofoofoo, the chief Woojublee- 
vit ; who looked like any other decent 
person of color respectably dressed; 
and the traveller announced that a 
snhscription was open at the desk to 
educate ^Ir. W nobody subscrib- 
ing. Then there was Professor Yel- 
litt Strong, who wanted to advocate 
his great project of an Elocutionary 
College for Brakemen, to prevent the 
misery which arises from so many 
people** not understanding where they 
are to get off the cars; and Pro- 
fessor Strong gave some very impres- 
sive illustrations of the inarticulate 
howls now in vogue on railroad trains, 
and then contrasted these with the 



clear and resounding shouts that ought 
to be, and with which the professor 
almost hoisted the assembly bodily 
off th^ir seats. 

Perhaps the most interesting of all 
however was a lady — skinny, of 
course, — elderly, as it happened, — 
who presented herself as a delegate 
from a band of sisters claiming to be 
far in advance Qf any other reformers. 

At this audacious statement the 
SolidaritS fairly gasped. No won- 
der. In advance of us I Why, they 
thought, we have gone to the very 
extreme — and then jumped off, — 
how is it possible to float any further 
out into Chaos! But the delegate 
proceeded to read the resolutions of 
her constituent body. Were they in 
earnest, or not ? Adrian, dizzy with 
the whirling phantoms of the place, 
beset and buffeted like an intellec- 
tual Saint Anthony by a whole pande- 
monium of monstrous visions, was 
ready for almost any thing. 

^' Besolutions," read this fearless 
champion of her sex, and who by the 
way had visibly possessed herself by 
some means or other of no mean por- 
tion of the badge of nobility which 
she vindicated for her down-trodden 
sex — 

"Resolutions of the society for 
HIRSUTE EMANCIPATION. 

" Whereas there is every reason to 
believe that the effeminate beardless^ 
ness which distinguishes most women 
is an ingeniously contrived badge of 
slavery imposed upon them by the 
Tyrant Man ; and 

" Whereas there is equal reason to 
believe that one bold, united and per- 
severing effort will free us from this 
or any other physiological mark of the 
degradation of our sex, therefore 

" Resolved : that we hereby organ- 
ize for the glorious and noble pur- 
pose of Securing Beards to Women, aa 



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the first step in the great progress of 
the age towards the Equality of the 
Sexes. 

^^ Resolved : that we will take the 
lemaining steps as soon as we have 
achieved the first 

^^ Resolved: That all who are not 
wholly recreant to the cause of their 
sister men, degraded helow the least 
comprehension of the Spirit of the 
Age, and lost to every sense of jus- 
tice, are called upon to rally round 
our hanner." 

Having read this declaration, the 
lady informed the SolidaritS that 
Mr. Darwin's doctrine of the beauty 
of hairlessness was no other than a 
cunning attempt to ward off in ad- 
vance this very movement by the 
women. She developed also a long and 
unanswerable historic argument con- 
structed on the principle of those that 
show how all the good things in the 
Christian religion were pretty univer- 
sally known long before Christianity 
was invented ; which argument be- 
gan with that striking passage from 
the Old Edda, which describes how, 
in order to bind Fenrir the Wolf, the 
child of Loki and Angurbodi, 

"Al-father sent Skirnir the mes- 
senger of Frey into the country of the 
Dark Elves or Svartalfaheim (swart- 
elf-home) to engage certain dwarfs 
to make the fetter called Gleipnir. It 
was fashioned out of six things ; to 
wit, the noise made by the foot-fall 

of a cat, THE BEARDS OF WOMEN, the 

roots of stones, the sinews of tears, 
the breath of fish and the spittle of 
birds." Coming hence down the long 
tract of ages, the speaker ended with 
a triumphant presentation of the case 
of Signora Julia Pastrana, the Cele- 



brated Bearded Lady, who, she said, is 
a living proof of the truth of the new 
principles, — and The President of the 
Society. The Treasurer, she contin- 
ued^ is Mrs. Jackman of Wilmington, 
Illinois — and here the speaker read 
from a Western newspaper, 

" Wilmington, III., lias a bearded lady, who 
is 27 years old, bom in the State of Maine, 
has shaved for IS years*, and weighs 150 
pounds. She is short in stature, and is mar- 
ried to a Mr. Jackman. She wears a beauti- 
ful mustache and chin whiskers black as a 
coal. Mrs. Jackman is a very intelligent 
woman, and is not at all ashamed of her 
whiskers." 

There was also a Physiological and' 
Medical Director — Doctor Beard : — 

"Patron Saint, the Old Hairy,'' 
thought Adrian \ but he did not dare 
say it. 

In such addresses the evening sped 
excitingly away. Adrian, always a 
student of character, was singularly in- 
terested in this astonishing collection 
of exceptional types, and felt the same 
interest, with a distinct sense of pain 
superadded, in considering the ques- 
tion. What business has my pure and 
delicate cousin Civille in this rout? 
She is like the Lady amongst the beasts 
in " Comus " — how can I get her 
out? Perplexed and pondering, — 
but reserving his conclusion with an 
instinctive use of what is calle.d " the 
judicial mind," until he should have 
got in all the evidence, he resolved 
to wait before making up his mind, 
until he should have attended the 
other proposed sittings, namely at the 
medium's, and at " The Grerm." So he 
escorted his cousin home, — their talk 
consisting of his inquiries about the 
personages of the Solidariti and their 
objects, — and left her. 



[To be oontinuedf] 



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The EecorcL 96 

THE RECORD. 

BY T. O. A. 

At Cambridge, in its ancient uniyeraity, 
And at umbrageous Amherst, you may find 
Slabs marked with footsteps in extreme diversity, «- 
Prints which Earth's caravans have left behind. 

They are the pages of our planet's history, 
Older than records writ by human pen, 
Linked to our life by life's recorded mystery, 
And lost in night at last beyond our ken. 

All are obscurely grand ; with them coeval 
We seem^ in fancy, to behold the seas 
Betire before the smoking land's upheaval, 
And earth for man made fit by slow degrees. 

Vast shapes, the warders of those days chaotic 5 
Batrachian monsters wallowing in the slime 
Of rivers, — life's rude sketches embryotic, 
And hints of forms to be advanced by time. 

Among them is the record of an hour. 
One minute of it, — awfuUest of things, — 
Where passed along the plastic ooze a shower, 
Sealing in sandstone all its dimpling rings. 

Time faints in reckoning what hour, what minute, 
Near its own birth-time, fell from heaven that rain : 
'Tis as if yesterday it fell ; and in it 
We may read much to make Heaven's meaning plain. 

Each passing moment stamps its fixed impression 
Somewhere, with meaning for our human lives, — 
Somewhere, each act, each thought, makes its confession : 
Nothing is lost, the smallest thing survives. 

God's angels photograph the sigh of feeling. 
The blush of guilt, a blessing or a ban 
For the hereafter, when, to all revealing. 
In light shall show the hidden life of man. 

If matter live so locked in stone forever, 
Much more shall soul impress its fleeting shower. 
And gleam of sunshine, i\\\ from Death's cold river 
Shall rise immortal tokens of each hour. 



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The Granges of the Patrons of Eksbandry. 



THE GRANGES OF THE PATRONS OF HUSBANDRY. 

BY MRS. PAULINE SWALM. 



The idea of the order of tbe " Pa- 
trons of Husbandry" was originally 
borrowed from an association which 
for many years had maintained a 
feeble existence in a community of 
Scotch farmers in North Carolina. 
The objects of this Scotch society, po 
far as can be ascertained, appear to 
have been the purchase of all needed 
supplies from first hands and at 
wholesale rates, and the cultivation 
.of more intimate social relations 
among its members ; that is, it was 
a secret, co-operative, industrial, and 
social association among those already 
allied by mutual work and interest 
and sympathy. It was meagr6 in 
number, and narrow in influence, to 
a degree that the fact of its existence 
was unknown beyond the limits of 
the little community affected by its 
institutions. Noj was it until the 
spring of 1868, that the idea of these 
Scotch farmers first began to be moot- 
ed abroad, and become known to the 
people of the West. During the pre- 
vious winter, Mr. 0. PI. Kelley of 
Itasca, Minn., and a dozen other lead- 
ing agriculturists of the West, hap- 
pening together in Washington, held 
frequent interviews in relation to the 
interests of the farming population 
of the Great West It was at this 
time and place that the farmers' move- 
ment first suggested itself to their 
minds, upon learning of the character 
and operation of the little Scotch 
society in North Carolina, whence 
sprung the agricultural revolution in 
its present shape. At once the idea 
was seized upon, and adapted to meet 
the purposes of a national organiza- 
tion. Early in the year 1868 sfc 
^' grange " was organized at Itasca^ 



Minn., under the supervision of Mr. 
Kelley. This was the first grange 
organization in the United States, 
except the organic germ in North 
Carolina. Another grange was 
speedily organized at Newton, Jasper 
County, lo. ; and in a short time a 
third entered upon a feeble existence 
at Waukon, Allamakee County, Ic, 
Here and there in various parts of 
the West and North-west, other gran- 
ges were organized from time to time ; 
but the movement had not yet taken 
firm root, and its existence was still 
precarious. At the end of 1871, the 
order had been introduced into Iowa, 
Minnesota, Wisconsin, and Illinois ; 
but, up to the close of the year 1871, 
its entire number in the four States 
named is estimated at not over seven- 
ty-five thousand. 

Quickened by a new impulse, and 
strengthened by a powerful vitality, 
its progress within the past twelve 
months, beginning with the year 
1872, has been not less than wonder- 
ful. Prom its weak army of seventy- 
five thousand, it is claimed, that, in 
the same four States, its membership 
has swelled to the more formidable 
number of four hundred and %.^j 
thousand, and is constantly increasing 
with the same rapid vigor. At the 
same time, the order has been intro- 
duced into a large proportion of the 
remaiiiiing States, and some of the 
Territories, and is extending not only 
to the north and west, but also to the 
east and south. It is this prodigious 
growth, rapid advance, and general 
diffusion throughout the country, that 
gives the deepest significance to this 
movement. In Tennessee, Alabama, 
Mississippi, and particularly in Geor- 



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97 



gift, the agricultural classes are organ- 
izing granges with the same aridity 
which characterizes the moyement in 
the North-west. Altogether it is 
found in active operation at the 
present time in twenty States, two or 
three Territories, and in the Canadas. 

During all these years of slow de- 
velopment and growth, it is note- 
irorthy that the practical operation 
of the farmers, movement has con- 
tinned to be conducted by its origina- 
tors, who divided amongst themselves 
the offices and charter membership 
of the National Grange, which con- 
stitutes the supreme court of appeal 
in all questions appertaining to the 
active management and work of the 
Older. From its early day to the pres- 
ent moment, no important changes 
have been effected in its management ; 
and, for the most part, its leaders are 
actively and nominally the same. 

The order is a secret society. 
Women, as well as men, are admitted 
to all the privileges of the granges. 
Members admitted to the first degree 
are known respectively as Laborer 
and Maid ; to the second degree, as 
Cultivator and Shepherdess; to the 
third degree, as Harvester and Glean- 
er ; and, to the fourth degree, as Hus- 
bandman and Matron. The fifth 
degree is conferred only in the State 
granges, which are composed of mas- 
ters and past-masters of the subordi- 
nate granges, and their wives, who are 
matrons. Those admitted to this 
degree are called members of the 
Pomona or Hope Grange. The sixth 
degree is conferred only upon members 
of the council of the National Grange, 
which is composed of masters and 
past-masters of State granges, and 
their wives, who have taken the degree 
of Pomona. The emblem of this de- 
gree is Flora (charity). The seventh 
and highest degree is conferred only 



upon members of the national senate, 
which comprises members of the coun- 
cil who have served one year in that 
body. The members of this degree 
are charged with the secret work of 
the order, and constitute a court of 
impeachment of all officers of the 
National Grange. The functions of 
the council and senate are equivalent 
to those of representatives and sena- 
tors in civil legislative bodies. The 
supreme executive authority of the 
order is lodged in the master of the 
National Grange; at present Mr. 
Dudley W. Adams of Waukon, lo. 
Each subordinate grange, in common 
with the National and State granges, 
elects its own master, overseer, lec- 
turer, steward, assistant-steward, chap- 
lain, treasurer, secretary, gate-keeper, 
Ceres, Pomona, Flora, and lady assist- 
ant-steward, whose relative duties 
are implied in their respective names. 
The officers of subordinate granges 
are elected for one year's service ; of 
State granges, for two ; and of the 
National Grange, for three. In accord- 
ance with the second article of the 
constitution, subordinate granges 
must meet at least once each month, 
and the State and National granges 
annually ; the former to select its own 
time and place, and the latter on the 
first Wednesday in February of each 
year, at such place as shall be from 
year to year determined. Its last 
meeting was held in Washington ; its 
next will be held at St. Louis. In 
active operation, the subordinate 
granges mostly meet fortnightly. The 
minimum fee for membership in a 
subordinate grange is, for men five 
dollars, and for women two dollars, 
except charter-^members, who pay, — 
men three dollars, and women fifty 
cents. \ In order to organize a new 
subordinate grange, it is necessary for 
nine men and four women who have 



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The Granger of the Patrons of Husbandry. 



received the four subordinate degrees 
to make application for a dispensa- 
tion to the secretary of the National 
Grange, — Mr. 0. H. Kelley of Wash- 
ington, — and accompany the same 
with a fee of fifteen dollars. Fifteen 
active subordinate granges^ in a State 
may apply for and receive authority 
to organize a State grange. Each 
State grange is represented by its 
master in the National Grange. The 
one clause in the constitution which 
at once has received the severest 
censure and warmest praise is that 
which summarily excludes all reli- 
gious and political questions as subjects 
of discussion from the work of the 
order. The greatest danger of thid 
movement at this time is, that it will 
wreck itself, on a sudden, on the fatal 
reef of politics, from the nearing of 
which it is warned, and even forbid- 
den. 

The word "grange," by which 
name the order in its working capa- 
city is designated, which, in this in- 
stance, is equivalent to lodge, is from 
the Latin granum, signifying grain : 
in fact, the word has a variety of 
meanings, or shades of meanings, 
which all confine it strictly to an 
agricultural connection. In ordinary 
English it means a farm, together 
with all its immovable belongings. 
In French it means a grain-farm. 
In old Scotch it signifies a place 
where the tithes and rents of the 
church were paid in kind; and in 
modern Scotch it denotes a grain- 
farm's buildings. The word is very 
old ; and in the literature of earlier 
times it is of frequent occurrence as 
applied to aristocratical residences ; 
in which sense it has a similar signi- 
ficance to the words "park," "lodge," 
and " lair." But the name is always 
in some way connected with farming, 
or land and its belongings ; and is as 



appropriate and fine-sounding and 
aristocratic a title as the farmers of 
the country need desire to be distin- 
guished by. 

As a rule, the members of this order 
are farmers ; but the terms of the con- 
stitution exclude no one from its mem- 
bership: and many are joining the 
rank and file of the movement who 
are not farmers, but yet who are as 
deeply interested in the success of the 
main purposes of the organization as 
the practical farmer. The leading 
object of the farmers' movement is to 
secure cheap transportation for farm- 
produce, to regulate railroad tarifis in 
such manner as will afford a fair and 
reasonable outlet for the enormous 
and rapidly increasing grain product 
of the North-west. Another promi- 
nent purpose of the organization is 
the reduction of the cost of manufac- 
tured implements by bringing the 
manufacturer and farmer into direct 
relation. For this purpose, the gran- 
ges appoint middle men of their own, 
through whom an interchange of prod- 
ucts is effected at the minimum cost. 
On all the leading railway lines of 
Iowa are found these grange agent s, 
who control the shipping-interests of 
the entire farming community of the 
State, and stipulate for the purchase 
of farm implements and all other arti- 
cles of daily consumption. Already, 
in the way of manufactures, the yoke 
has been made easy ; but the railroads 
are hitherto inexorable. Through- 
out the whole Mississippi Valley 
there is a surplus of food products, 
and a deficiency of manufactures : in 
consequence, the necessity arises for a 
foreign market ; although a more ex- 
tensive home market would be better 
for the double purpose of sale and pur- 
chase. At the present high rates of 
railway tariff the disadvantage to 
the producing classes of this region is 



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obvious. Here lies the strength of 
tbeir reason for demanding a remedy, 
and the kejmote to the present suc- 
cess of the order of the Patrons of 
Husbandly. It is because, under the 
existing order of 'things, the wages, 
which means the net earnings, of the 
fGurmeis of the North-west, are the 
vages of starvation. 



Note by the Editor. — The fol- 
lowing list gives the names of the pres- 
ent chiefs of the order, the Preamble 
to the Constitution of the National 
Grange, and the Practical Sugges- 
tions after it, and before the Consti- 
tution of the Iowa State Grange. The 
<x)n8titutions themselves are merely 
codes for the business management of 
^e order, and give not the least hint 
of what its chiefs, or the order itself 
may or may not do. The only sugges- 
tions on these important points to be 
found in the authentic document from 
which these extracts are taken are^in 
the extracts themselves ; and a careful 
reading of them will suggest a good 
many things, particularly if the ab- 
sence of restraint on the managers 
is kept ip mind. 

It should further be remembered, 
that the Patrons of* Husbandry and 
their granges are not the same body 
as, nor connected with, a working- 
man's association with national views, 
havmg its headquarters at Washing- 
ton, and a cheap transportation con- 
tention, which recently met at New 
York, and one at Atlanta, Ga. 

OFFICERS OF NATIONAL 
GRANGE. 

ILECTED AT SIXTH ANNUAL SESSION. 

Master^ Dudley W. Adams, Waukon, 
lo. Overseer, lliomas Taylor, Columbia, 
8.C. Lecturer, T. A Thompson, Plain- 
▼iew, Waba»ha County, Minn. Steward, 
A J. Vanghan, Early Grove, Marshall 
County, Miss. Assistant Steward, G. W. 



Thompson, New Brunswick, N. J. Cliap- 
lain, Rev. A. B. Grosh, Washington, D.C. 
Treasurer, F. M. McDowell, Corning, 
N.Y. Secretary, O. H. Kelley, Washing- 
ton, D.C. Gale'Keeper, O. Dinwiddle, 
Orchard Grove, Lake County, Ind. Ceres, 
Mrs. D. W. Adams, Waukon, Jo. Pomona, 
Mrs. O. H. Kelley, AVashington, D.C. 
Flora, Mrs. J. C. Abbott, Clarkesville, 
Butler County, lo. Lady Assistant Stew- 
ard, Miss C. A. Hall, Washington, D.C. 

EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE. 

William Saunders, Washington, D.C. ; 
D. Wyatt Aiken, Cokesbury, Abbeville, 
County, S.C. ; E. R. Shankland, Dubuque, 
lo. 

PREAMBLE. 

** Human happiness is the acme of 
earthly ambition. Individual happiness 
depends upon general prosperity. 

" The prosperity of a nation is in pro- 
portion to the value of its productions. 

" The soil is the source from whence 
wo derive all that constitutes wealth ; 
without it we would have no agriculture, 
no manufactures, no commerce. Of all 
the material gifts of the Creator, the vari- 
ous productions of the vegetable world are 
of the first importance. The art of agri- 
culture is the parent and precursor of all 
arts, and its products the foundation of all 
wealth. 

" The productions of the-earth are sub- 
ject to the influence of natural laws, in- 
variable and indisputable: the amount 
produced will consequently be in propor- 
tion to the intelligence of the producer ; 
and success will depend upon his knowl- 
edge of the action of these laws, and the 
proper application of their principles. 

** Hence knowledge is the foundation of 
happiness. 

" The ultimate object of this organiza- 
tion b for mutual instruction and protec- 
tion, to lighten labor by diffusing^ a knowl- 
edge of its aims and purposes, expand the 
mind by tracing the beautiful laws the 
great Creator has established in the uni- 
verse, and to enlarge our views of Crear 
tive wisdom and power. 

"To those who read aright, history 
proves, that, in all ages, society is fragmen- 
tary; and successful results of general 



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100 



The Granges of the Patrons of Husbandry. 



welfare can be secured only by general 
effort. Unity of action cannot be ac- 
quired without discipline, and discipline 
cannot be enforced without significant or- 
ganization : hence we have a ceremony 
of initiation which binds us in mutual 
fraternity as with a band of iron ; but, 
although its influence is so powerful, its 
application is as gentle as that of the silk- 
en thread that binds a wreath of flowers." 

PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS. 

<*The work of the subordinate granges 
hais two stages, or periods. 

^ First, we organize the granges, and 
study to become familiar with the work of 
the lodge-room. We study to take in 
the essence and spirit of our beautiful 
and elevating ritual. We also get ac- 
quainted with each other. As a people, 
we pay too little regard to the social and 
fraternal element in society. There are, 
perhaps, reasons why this is so, growing 
out of oar earnest, practical life in devel- 



oping a new country ; but it is none the 
less true that our happiness and well-being 
would be better promoted by cultivating 
more fully our social natures. 

'* Ailer the organizing period has passed, 
we come to the business or material phase 
of our work. Here we need to be gov- 
em.ed by a large and enlightened wisdom. 
We are suffering from the oppression oS. 
corporations. Manufacturers combine 
against ns ; and, owing to circumstances by 
which we are surrounded, we perhaps do 
not understand, at present, just the best 
and most business-like method of remedy- 
ing the evil. We need, then, to carefully 
study and mature our plans bef<nre we 
begin to act. We talk over among oni^ 
selves what we desire to do, and compare 
opinions as to the best methods of arriv- 
ing at results. Having perfected our 
plans, we should be more than careful 
that we carry out in good faith and in a 
business-like way all agreements and con- 
tracts." 



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Kl^e fcmiiier* 



Almost any thing with language on it may constitute a literature, 
if collected in sufficient numbers. Clay cylinders with arrow-headed 
characters on them, medals or coins, rocks with inscriptions, files 
of play-bills or hand-bills or posters : — 'even the collection of bottle- 
corks which a certain virtuoso got together with immense pains was 
• literature, so far as the names branded on the corks constituted a col- 
lection of inscriptions. Possibly even a library of old closed account- 
books could be called a literature. Nobody will deny the name to a 
collection of pamphlets — unless, perhaps, they should be catalogues 
of auction-sales of groceries and dry-goods. A collection of college 
catalogues, though, perhaps, reasons might be found for disallowing it 
the name of literature, is entitled to it for special reasons. Such 
catalogues are records of institutions eithep wholly or in great part 
literary in purposes or methods, or both ; they include a great deal of 
the history of these institutions ; they display a great range of courses 
of study ; and their statistics show what numbers of youth are at a 
given time employed in the pursuit of the higher education. 

More than two hundred such catalogues have been used in com- 
piling the College Directory which accompanies this number of " Old 
Am) New." It is true, that, to obtain these, some six hundred or 
more institutions were circulared, and a good many of these a second 
time. As to those which did not reply, is it not a natural consola- 
tion to conclude that either they are defunct, or that they are be- 
neath consideration ? But Harvard College was one of these. And, 
moreover, there are reasons for believing that one of the most deeply 
seated of human feelings is a disinclination to furnish statistics to 
another man for nothing. A pathetic article in " The Publishers' 
Weekly " of June 7, entitled " The Catalogue Question," is to the 
same effect. It sets forth with much feeling how hopeless would be 
the task of preparing a complete list of American publications. It 
could be done, no doubt ; but to prepare the list, and print five hun- 
dred copies of the book (more than could be sold), would cost at least 

m 



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102 The Examiner. 

ten thousand dollars' worth of time, labor, and printing. So much 
money cannot be raised in America for that object. 

Even thQ swift examination of these catalogues which has been 
made in compiling our College Directory has suggested some 
things of interest. The compiler, who has not meddled much with 
college catalogues since about a quarter of a centuiy ago, when he 
was in the way of knowing a little about them, has noticed changes. 

There are more institutions, of course. The population of the 
country has increased from about 23,000,000 in 1850, to about 38,- 
500,000 in 1870, and, according to the average rate of increase, to just 
about 40,000,000 in 1873. Wealth has increased a good deal more 
than population ; having grown from just over $6,000,000,000 to just 
over $14,000,000,000. General mental activity, and, with the rest, 
that sort which seeks education, cannot be stated in figures; but 
the change which has brought our colored population in a body with- 
in the educable class within the period named comes nearer to being 
measurable by arithmetic than any other mental movement in history . 
So, as we have almost twice as many souls in the country as a quar- 
ter of a centurj'- ago, twice and a third as much riches, and a decidedly 
higher ayerage of mental activity, no wonder we have more institu- 
tions of collegiate grade. 

There are a great many more kinds of them. As Mr. Herbert Spen- 
cer would note it, there has been a marked progress of differentiation 
among them. Except the schools of law, medicine, and divinity, the 
special schools of higher education have come into being within this 
time as a class of well-established and received institutions. Veteran 
educators will easily remember the manual labor school experiment 
which was tried, and distinctly failed, some fifty years ago. The rea- 
son is plain enough : it takes all the average student's disposable 
vitality to be a competent student ; and therefore he cannot earn a liv- 
ing at the same time. But the present agricultural and technological 
schools call for labor, so far as they do so, not over and above the 
course of study, but as part of it. A greater educational improve- 
ment still is the reception of industrial pursuits to collegeahle dignity. 
During the last quarter-century, men have learned very fast that civil 
engineering, agriculture, business, applied arts geiperally, can be 
taught and practiced scientifically just as much as the giving of cas- 
tor-oil, bringing a suit in assumpsit, or analyzing the interior of the 
Almighty. Such schools are the various agricultural colleges, — Cor- 
nell University, the Boston Technological Institute, the Stevens 
Technological School, the SheflSeld Scientific School, the School of 



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The Examiner. 103 

Mines at Columbia College, the Bonney Agricultural S9hool, the 
Natural History School at Penikese, and the like. 

Not less striking is the advent of the collegiate institutions for 
colored youth; and not less so, again, is the rapid growth of the 
practice of the co-education of the sexes in the higher institutions. 
Is there any collegiate institution, unless it be Oberlin, where this 
was allowed twenty-five years ago ? And, to-day, look at the sur- 
prising proportion of entries in our Directory, where the number of 
students includes '^ men and women," especially in the central and 
western part of the northern tier of States ! And these include such 
uistitutions as Cornell University and Swarthmore College, which it 
may almost be said were impossibilities in 1850. 

None the less do the institutions exclusively for women increase. 
The women's medical colleges have grown up within this time : so 
has Vassar College ; and the Simmons Institution, provided for, but 
not yet established, is to be a Woman's Technological Institution. 

The " School of Journalism," of which a good deal has been said 
in some quarters, appears not to be called for quite yet by the spirit 
of the age. It is very likely that it will be ; and perhaps the time 
may be fixed in spirit, if not in date. It will be when newspaper 
writing as a whole shall have thrown off such qualities as are incon- 
sistent with the spirit and feeling of an institution for learning, and 
shall seek those which are not. 

Another great change is the surprising extension of the course of 
study in our colleges, and the still mote surprising development of 
those institutions themselves. The past quarter-century is the birth- 
period of the university in America. It is only now that some of our 
strongest institutions, whether old or new, have begun to be 
entitled to the name in its modem sense. In the mediaeval meaning 
of offering their privileges to all alike (Africans excepted, and Oberlin 
without this illiberal stigma), they have always been universities. 

The average age of students has increased ; though this does not 
appear on the catalogue. Of course, the average of graduating at- 
tainment has risen, and the ability and morality of the average stu- 
dent as a self-impelled, self-controlled self-educator. Such is the 
ideal student. Hitherto he has been found in the post-graduate 
professional schools, but not often enough in the colleges proper. 
He is becoming more frequent. He is the welcome advanced guard 
of the cultivated, scholarly, gentlemanly America which is coming. 

Much could be said on other points ; such as the remarkable im- 
provements in the text-books used in our colleges, both as to subject- 



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104 



Work. 



matter and as to style of typography. To examine even the few 
volumes which are noticed in this number of the magazine would 
thoroughly astonish any man who had not seen a school-book for 
twenty-five years. 

But even the heads of discourse would over-fill our space. 



WORK.* 

The earnest tone which pervades 
Miss Alcott's new story, and the hap- 
py glimpses it affords of home-life, 
pleasantly remind the reader of f ' Lit- 
tle Women." Miss Alcott's style, 
though far from careful, is vivacious, 
and peculiarly her own. Her ready 
sympathies, aitd her bright, sensible 
way of looking at life, make her a 
favorite with the young people; and 
children of an older growth read her 
books with enjoyment and profit. 
"Work" will be welcomed by both 
young and old ; and Christie's adven- 
tures wiU be followed to the end with 
undiminished zest. 

In the story before us there is a 
grateful absence of the current slang- 
phrases which have sometimes dis- 
figured this sprightly writer's book. 
Do our young people wilfully ignore 
the beauty of refined language ? 
Then let the imaginary characters, 
which exert so |arge an influence on 
their own, ignore slang ; for the aim 
of story-writers should be not only to 
give their pictures of life that touch 
of Nature which makes the whole 
world kin, but to present a higher 
ideal. "Fiction has no business to 
exist," says Joubert, "unless it is 
more beautiful than reality." 

Our story relates the fortunes of a 
young girl, who, at the early age of 
twenty-one, leaves an uncongenial 

> Work : « Story of Bxperimee. By Louisa 
M. Alcott. Boston : Roberts Brothers. 



home, and, sustained by a brave 
heart and high hopes, goes alone into 
the world to achieve independence. 
Christie's career is fitful and varied. 
She begins her new life as a house- 
maid; but her ambitious spirit does 
not allow her to remain long in this 
position. She turns from one field of 
labor to another with restless activity, 
and adapts herself to new duties and 
strange companions with marvellous 
success. Thus at one time we see her 
on the stage, winning applause and 
favor as an actress. Now she. appears 
as a governess, now as companion to 
an invalid, again as a seamstress. 
Through faithfulness to a fallen friend, 
she loses a good position ; and when, 
poor and forsaken herself, she drifts 
to despair, a grateful hand snatches 
her back to life and hope. Christie 
finds lovers as well as friends in her 
changeful experiences ; and we leave 
her in the nlidst of her usefulness, a 
noble, happy woman. But we have 
no intention of sketching the plot for 
the benefit of those readers who begin 
a story at the end. 

In the course of her experience 
Christie naturally falls in with all 
sorts of people; but the mixture of 
the practieal and romantic seems a 
little incongruous at times. This 
strikes us especially as we read of the 
Carrol fomily, over whose luxurious 
home a mysterious shadow hangs. 
Christie's presence in this doomed 
home lightens the atmosphere a little, 
but does not avert the tragedy which 



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OoUegiate Addresses. 



105 



ends ber labors as companion. The 
whole scene has a morbid tinge, and 
savors of the melodramatic. 

Yet this sad picture serves to bring 
into strong relief the portrait of C. 
Wilkins, clear-starcher, with her six 
rollicking urchins. The shrewd, bus- 
tling, honest-souled woman bursts 
^ upon us like a fresh Nor'-wester, and 
blows away all lurking miasmas. Sh e 
is the most original character of the 
book. One of the most amusing 
scenes in which she figures is where 
her patriotic ardor finally triumphs 
over dull inertia, and her reluctant 
'Lisha dons a soldier's, garb. 

Miss Alcott endeavors, in this " Story 
of Experience," to illustrate the beauty 
and need of labor, and to inculcate 
the grand truth, that wholesome work 
is the salvation of many souls. In 
Miss Alcott's creed there is no repul- 
sive sentimentalism. The divine com- 
munion, the trust in (}od for which 
Christie yearned and despaired of, 
and only gained after years of patient 
devotion to duty, is the true religion. 
It does not come to all alike; but 
many will seek and find it only as 
Christie did. Robert Falconer, in 
Macdonald's story, first teaches the 
neglected souls he is striving to up- 
, lift to help themselves. 

I * This story contains a beautiful les- 

son of our mutual dependence on 
each other, and the duty of helpful- 
ness. It is good to read of the Great- 
hearts who do not live to themselves 
•lone, and who are never too busy to 
"lend a hand." Better still is the 
tnowledge that such men and women 
hve not only in good books, but that 
^ing hands are to-day outstretched 
mthis working-day world to strength- 
en the weak and the doubting by 
tteir cordial grasp. 
^e tmst that all who read « Work " 
I ™*y find it in their hearts to say 



Amen to the closing words : " The 
greatest of God's gifts to us is the 
privilege of sharing his great work." 
Mary Thaoheb. 



COLLEGIATE ADDRESSES.* 

These documents have been taken 
at random from among those sent to 
the office of "Old and New" along 
with the catalogues for the College 
Directory. They illustrate various 
points of interest in coniiection with 
our system of higher education, as 
well as with the particular institutions 
to which they relate. 

The first three are on musical sub- 
jects, and were delivered at the opening 
of as many departments in the College 
of Music of the new " Boston Univer- 
sity." Prof. O'Neill's is an ornate 
discourse on the spirit and influence 
of music; ProC Buck's, a summary 
account of the history of his grand 
instrument, with observations on its 
capacities and present management; 
while Prof. Paine's is a thoughtful 
analysis of the resemblances and 
differences between music and the 
other fine arts, in which he includes 
poetry. All three are really interest- 
ing as discussions of their subjects, 
and still more so as marking the be- 

1 Inaugural Lecture of the Department of Bng. 
llsh and Italian Singing, .Pathetics, and Physiology 
of the Voice, in the CioUege of Music of Boston Unl- 
Tersity. By John O'Neill, Profetaor and Lecturer. 
Oct. 26, 1872. 8vo. Paper. 

The Influence of the Organ in History. Inaugu. 
ral Lecture of the Department of the Organ in the 
same. By Dudley Buck, Professor and Lecturer. 
Jan. 13, 1873. 8vo. Paper. 

Inaugural Lecture of the Department of Musical 
Composition, History, and JSsthetics in the same. 
By John K. Paine, Professor and Lecturer. 
Oct. 28, 1872. 8vo. Paper. 

Bwarthmore College. Exercises at the Inaugura- 
tion of President Magill. 8vo. Paper. 1872. 

Sermon at the Twenty-ninth Anniversary of the 
Society for the Promotion of Collegiate and Theo- 
logical Education, JacksouvIUe, HI. Oct: 20, 1872. 
By George F. Magoun, D.D., President of Iowa 
College. Svo. Paper. 1873. 

Inauguration at Baldwin University, Berea, Ohio. 
Jmi«8, 1871. 8vo. Paper. 1871. 



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106 



CoUegiate Addresses. 



ginning of a liberally-organized and 
Bcientifically-conducted college of mu- 
sic. 

President MagilPs Inaugural at 
S«varthmore College is a calm and 
plain discourse upon the policy and 
situation of that young but strong col- 
lege, endowed and managed by Friends, 
and whose corporation is about half of 
men, and half of women ; which admits 
students of each sex, allows a large 
choice of elective studies, and aims to 
furnish " a thorough classical and an 
equally thorough scientific education 
in separate courses." President Magill 
expresses himself satisfied that the re- 
sults, thus far, of the optional method, 
are, on the whole, satisfactory. He is 
more emphatic in approving the co- 
education feature, which, he says, is no 
longer to be reckoned an experiment, 
and which he seems to expect will 
soon be adopted even at Yale College. 
This, then, is the last stronghold of 
exclusive masculine educationism. 

That young men and young women 
may often be educated together is 
certain ; but if any considerable num- 
ber of young men or young women, 
either, — or their natural guardians, 
— prefer to have them taught by them- 
selves, they ought to be so taught. A 
test of the same nature may well be 
kept in mind on the question of option- 
al studies, which should, undoubtedly, 
be permitted to some degree. There 
are certain ground studies which 
should be enforced on all. There are 
students who will have to be driven 
through any study. There are stu- 
dents who are intensely fond of some 
studies, to the practical exclusion of 
others. Some students may be trust- 
ed ; others not. The older a student, 
the more likely it is that he is fit to 
choose his studies, and control his con- 
duct too. The objection which Presi- 
dent Magill seems to consider weight- 



iest is, that the optional method com- 
plicates the course and the recitations. 
On the whole, the method of optionals 
may at present be considered as adopt- 
ed in principle, but a good deal 
unsettled as to extent and mode of 
management. 

The Address of Dr. Godman, two 
years ago, at assuming the presidency 
of Baldwin University, and President 
Magoun's Annual Sermon before the 
College Education Society, instead of 
dealing with single studies, or with 
questions of literary or administrative 
organization, discuss the more famil- 
iar, but not less. important, question of 
Religious Collegiate Education. They 
both assert its value and necessity, — 
the former by arguing directly the 
intrinsic necessity of religion as part 
of ment al life ; the latter, in the main, 
implicitly, through the facts adduced 
in its account of the operations and 
theories of the inestimably useful soci- 
ety to which it was delivered. The 
point specially argued by Dr. Magoun 
is that well known to have been 
strongly maintained by that most 
excellent and " exceptionally wise 
man " (as Dr. Magoun very justly 
calls him), the late Rev. Theron Bald- 
win, the founder and chief organ of 
the society ; to wit, that there ought 
to be at the West fewer colleges, and 
those better endowed. This argument 
is strikingly illustrated by a table of 
the endownaents of the eight (origi- 
nally) Congregationalist colleges in 
Kew England (Harvard, Yale, Am- 
herst, Bowdoin, Williams, Dartmouth, 
Middlebury, University of Vermont), 
as compared with those of eighteen 
Western colleges; being nearly all 
those that are aided by the society (vi«. 
Beloit, Berea, College of California^ 
Carleton, German Evangelical,IllinoiS| 
Iowa,- Knox, Marietta, Oberlin, Olivet, 
Pacific University, Ripon^ Wabashy 



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The Speaker^ 8 Commmtary. 



107 



Washburn, Western Keserve, Wil- 
berfopc^ Wittenkerg). 

The totals are : — 

Eastern, 8. Western, 18. 

Whole Taloations, SI 1 ,695,027 $34,629,101 

Endowments, 4,331 ,211 1 ,386,468 

Beoefidaiy Fond, 743,999 60,018 

Dr. Magoun argues powerfully the 
proper conclusions. They are so clear, 
that we need not even repeat them. 
Bat it is an uphill business to con- 
rince a college that it had better die. 



THE SPEAKER'S COMMENTARY.* 
The second volume of " The Speak- 
er's Commentary," recently issued by 
Scribner and Company in good dear 
type, is another fruit of the compre- 
hensire work of biblical criticism and 
learning now undertaken by the schol- 
ars of the Anglican Church. The 
whole, when finished, will be a monu- 
ment of industry and toil in this depart- 
ment As different parts of each vol^ 
ome are by different men, there is a 
great variety in the style and method 
of treating the text. The second vol- 
ume includes Joshua, with notes from 
Bev. T. E. Espin, B.D. ; Judges, Ruth, 
and Samuel, by Kight Rev. Lord Ar- 
thur Hervey, M.A.; Kings, Chroni- 
cles, Ezra, Nehemiah, and Esther, 
by the Camden Professor of Ancient 
History of Oxford, Rev. George Raw- 
linson. The Introductions and Notes 
of this volume have varied intellec- 
tual characteristics, and marked de- 
grees of merit. The writers treat the 
books as veritable history, and as a 
part of • "divine revelation." The 
miracles as recorded are accepted as 

1 The Holy Bible according to the authorized 
wnkm (A.D. 1611), with an Explanatory andCriU- 
ealCoinmentary, and a Rerition of the Tnmalatlon. 
6j biihopa and other clergy of the ' Anglican 
CbuKh. Edited by F. C. Cook, M.A., canon of 
Xzeter. Vol. il. Joshua - 1 Kings. 

KevTork : Scribner, Armstrong, and Ck>mpany, 
••Broadway. 1878. 



actual facts ; and nothing of a legend- 
ary or mythical character is recog- 
nized. Joshua is regarded as a model 
soldier, and his character as free from 
reproach. The wholesale slaughter 
of the Canaanites is defended not only 
for the benefits supposed to follow, but 
also as a fulfilment of a divine com- 
mand. Here are a few words on this 
point : — 

" If it be objected that this is to 
represent Grod as sanctioning cruelty, 
the answer is obvious : * It is no sanc- 
tion of cruelty to direct a lawful sen- 
tence ta be carried out by human 
agejits ' (cf. on Kum. xxxi. 3). ^ov 
would obedience to Grod's command 
in this matter make the Israelites 
brutal and bloodthirsty. Wholesale 
massacres have many times in history 
been perpetrated by a soldiery mad- 
dened by resistance, as after the 
storming of a town. But no body of 
men ever acquired, or would be likely 
to acquire, a relish for human slaugh- 
ter, by being constrained to put to 
the sword in cold blood all the inhab- 
itants of a country, city after city, 
even when, as must many times have 
been the case in Joshua's campaigns, 
no resistance had been or could be 
attempted. . . . The behavior of the 
Israelites, on many occasions, proves 
t^at they shrank from a terrible duty 
of this sort when laid on them by God, 
and did it only so far as they were 
compelled to do it." — Pp. 15, 16. 

The reasoning on this subject 
shows to what lengths even good men 
will go to justify the most atrocious 
deeds in defence of their theories, and 
to what extent they will do violence 
to their moral feelings by represent- 
ing wholesale slaughter as done by the 
direct command of God. 

Of course, the volume lacks the 
unity which it would have if it was 
all the result of a single mind. This, 



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108 



Wehder's Didionary. 



however, is an advantage, and gives 
additional value to the volume as a 
whole. The Introductions and Notes 
are a decided improvement on the old 
dreary commentaries. It is free of a 
vast deal of dry rubhish, and abounds 
with the results of more recent bibli- 
cal scholarship. It represents the 
average opinions of the English 
Church, and has neither the aggres- 
sive rationalism of Colenso, nor the 
profound philosophic insight, the 
truth-poise, accurate learning, and 
powerful intellectual grasp, of Jowett. 
The volume, however, is a step in the 
right direction ; and though its treat- 
ment of the text and the introductory 
discussions fail to answer some of the 
most important questions raised by 
modem criticism and historical inves- 
tigation, it contains a great deal of 
valuable information for the general 
reader. 



WEBSTER'S DICTIONARY.* 
Besides the long and industrious 
labors of Webster himself, the quarto 
dictionary called by his name now 
embodies the results, as has been com- 
puted, of about thirty years' labor 
by the best scholars in language that 
could be engaged. A good deal of 
wisdom has been shown during thi^ 
editing process by steadily render- 
ing the work more and more a record 
of the current usage of the language, 
instead of leaving it, as at first, Dr. 
Webster's prospectus of what he 
thought that usage should be. The 
traces of this original condition have 
almost entirely disappeared ; and near- 
ly all such as are left can be defended 
with a good deal of reason on intrinsic 

* An American Dictionary of the English Lan- 
guage. By Noah Webster, LL.D. Thoroughly 
rdTlsed, and greatly enlarged and improved. By 
Cbaunoey A. Goodrich, D.D., and Noah Porter, 
D.D.,LL.D. Imperial 4to. Springfield, Masa.: 
6. ft C. Merriam. Sheep. •IS.OO. 



grounds, though really one hesitates 
at "cag" (i.e., keg), and wishes to ask, 
Where, in the writings of good English 
authorities, can that spelling be found? 

This process of beginning with an ex- 
tensive set of suggested improvements, 
and then dropping such of them as 
the public would not receive, was a 
characteristically American one ; and 
none the less so because it was not laid 
out on purpose by Dr. Webster, but 
was the result of an unintended c(nv- 
sensTis among a series of editors. It 
involved, no doubt, a sort of retracta- 
tion. But to confess that an experi- 
ment was unsuccessful is no disgrace ; 
and the method has certainly resulted 
in the establishment of some novelties 
of real value. 

Spelling, defining, derivation, pro- 
nunciation, are the four primary de- 
partments in which a dictionary should 
inform. A recent criticism on Web- 
ster's Dictionary (nominally on all 
dictionaries) claims that the orthoepic 
portion of dictionaries is of little value ; 
that the derivations might well be 
omitted; that the number of words 
given should be as small as practicable, 
instead of as great ; and that the book 
should generally be so made that it may 
be difi&cult to use. At least, this last 
seems directly implied by talking 
about their '^ thought-lulling conve- 
nience;" and the argument is like 
objecting to the muscle-relieving con- 
venience of the steam-engine. 

Whatever may be true of reference- 
books for philologists, an English dic- 
tionary for every-day use by ordinary 
people must give, not the least, but 
the most, that is possible in every way, 
— in number of words, variety of kinds 
of information, and fulness in each 
department. Instead vf bein g restrict- 
ed to a mere word-book, as the critic 
in question would require, the very 
cyclopedic tendency which he dis- 



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109 



likes is exactly what the buying pub- 
lic want, will have, and consequently 
have got, — ^pictures, synonymes,special 
lists of names, accounts of characters 
in fiction, specimen alphabets, com- 
parative grammar, and all the rest of 
it If the addition of a concordance 
to the Bible, a volume of sermons, and 
a receipt-book, would double the sale of 
the dictionary, we should recommend 
the publishers to add them at once. 
Whether a few people like it or not, 
it is the business-acceptableness of a 
commodity to the many which deter- 
mines its existence and its prosperity. 
As a cyclopsedia about words, the 
present pictorial quarto Webster is a 
wonderfully comprehensive and conve-* 
nient book. Whenever its next edition 
shall be made ready, is it unreasonable 
to ask that the same criterion shall be 
consistently adopted throughout which 
has avowedly been used in one depart- 
ment? — "Present, established, culti- 
vated general usage has seemed to the 
editors of this revision, in general, the 
final test " on the subject of pronun- 
ciation. In spelling and definition 
we apprehend it is the same, and that 
the application of this standard 
throughout would simply continue the 
process of improving the work. 



WORCESTER'S DICTIONARY.* 

Dr. Wobcbsteb's' theory of dic- 
tionaries was the safe and conservative 
one, that they are records of fact, and 
not makers of law. Upon this prin- 
ciple were conducted the long and ju- 
dicious researches and examinations 
which the preparation of his great 
dictionary required; and it is this 
characteristic which has recommended 
it to so many cultivated scholars. Few 
inch are ready to admit the rights of 

> A Dictionuy of the EogiUh Language. By 
*>«eph E. Worcester, LL.D. Boston : Brewer ft 
lUcilOQ. Imperial 4to. Sheep. $10.00. 



a linguistic Luther, even though the 
established forms should be corrupt. 
A literary language is like a glacier, 
— it moves and changes, but under 
forces, and in ways, that are inaccessi^ 
ble to individujds. We can investi- 
gate and record the rates and laws of 
such changes; but we cannot much 
modify them : and while we are pok- 
ing about the surface of the subject, or 
peering into its depths, it is carrying 
us bodily along with it. 

The character of Dr. Worcester was 
reserved and quiet. It is very inter- 
esting to see how distinctly this trait 
comes out in his Preface, whose last 
two paragraphs are singularly modest 
expressions of the feelings and senti- 
ments of one who dismisses to the 
public the work upon which his life 
has been spent, and his fame must de- 
pend. " It will be apparent," he says, 
'^to any one who may examine this 
dictionary, that a great deal of labor 
has been bestowed upon it in order to 
bring it to its present state ; . . . but 
no amount of labor, research, and care, 
can render such a work free from 
errors and defects. The best authori- 
ties that can be had differ, in many 
cases, from each other ; and they will 
sometimes inevitably lead astray." 
And he adds, he has tried not to 
afford any ground of reasonable com- 
plaint, nor to give any just cause of 
offence, and to keep the moral influ- 
ence of the work unexceptionable. 
That he entertained sufficiently defi- 
nite views of his own and of other peo- 
ple's labors in lexicography is easily to 
be gathered from his expressed hope, 
that, " instead of tending to corrupt 
the language, it shall conduce to pre- 
serve and promote its purity and cor- 
rectness." 

The author's own characteristic re- 
serve and caution, ais well as bis habits 
of clear and precise thought and ex- 



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FaUe PhUoIogy. — Samuel J. May. 



pressioD, are obvious, it might almost be 
said^ in every line of his solid and ex- 
tensive work. Even the unquestion- 
able and irresistible popular demand 
for fulness of statement and informa- 
tion has been only reluctantly yielded 
to ; the greatest expansiveness being 
found in the selection of passages to 
illustrate the uses of words. Even 
the physiognomy of the pages of the 
dictionary, clear, open, and legible, 
notwithstanding the great number of 
wordfi^ to a page, expresses the same 
character. 



FALSE PHILOLOGY.* 

This is a curiously scornful and 
acrid discussion of questions about the 
derivation, meaning, and use of words, 
accompanied with the impalement, by 
way of illustration, of divers ofifenders, 
and especially of Mr. Richard Grant 
White, who is most horribly treated 
for the sins of his " Words and their 
Uses.'' Mr. Hall's knowledge is abun- 
dant ; and his statements are support- 
ed by a wonderful wealth of circum- 
stantial references. His own style is 
full of force and animation; but he 
has not the mildness and sweetness 
of manner which should belong to a 
judge, nor even to an advocate, nor 
even to an executioner. On the con- 
trary, it is only among the images of 
the most awful retribution that any 
competent similitude can be found for 
his proceeding. He is the destroying 
angel amongst the helpless soldiers of 
Sennacherib, the unresisted slaughter- 
man in a pen of Citicinnati swine. 
Except that the illustration is directly 
inverse ^ to the intellect engaged, 
there is one still more appropriate in 
respect of the unfeeling nature of the 

^ Recent ExeropUflcatloiif of Falie Philology. 
By Fitzedward HaU. New York : Scribner Arm- 
strong, & Oo. aoth, limp. $1.25. 



work performed, and particularly as to 
the strong, but not graceful, agility 
shown : it is that embodied in the well- 
known saying, " Every one for him- 
self, as the jackass said when he 
danced among the chickens." Mr. 
De Quincey is another of Mr. Hall's 
victims, whom he pounds and smashes 
as badly as he does Mr. White, and 
without paying the least attention to 
the fact, that whereas Mr. White, 
though pretty well disabled at the end, 
was in some sense alive at first, Mr. 
De Quincey was dead to begin with. 

The little treatise is ^stimulating, 
learned, useful, and almost always 
correct; but it would be difficult to 
•discover another modem publication 
where so much ability is shown in a 
spirit so excessively bitter. 



SAMUEL J. MAY. 
One of the best and pleasantest of 
recent biographies. Mr. May was one 
of those rarely endowed men who not 
only are intensely and efficiently active 
for every good thing, and against 
every evil one, but who can advocate 
their own cause, oppose another's, and 
even convict others of wrong, in a 
manner at once perfectly sufficient, 
and perfectly sweet and kind. To 
those who are governed by common 
angers and contempte, there is some- 
thing almost incredible, even while 
they stand by and look on, in the ad- 
ministration of reproofs, or the expres- 
sion of dissents, or in the prosecution 
of oppositions, by such men. Mr. May 
was born in Boston, Sept 12, 1797, 
and died at his home in Syracuse, 
N.Y., July 1, 1871. His years thus 
filled out the full measure of the life 
of a man. But his good works con- 
stitute an infinitely nobler standard. 
Always very laborious, and utterly 

^ICemolrofSamaelJoeepfaMay. Portrait. Bos- 
ton: Eoberta Brothers. 16mo. Cloth. $1.60. 



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Logical Bookheepmg. — School Ethics. 



Ill 



fearless, be was one of tli6 most use- 
ful of pastors, one of the most efficient 
of the earlier abolitionists, and one of 
the heartiest and strongest of those 
who labored in that resurrection of 
the cause of popular education whicb 
formed so marked a feature in the 
rtoL history of the United States dur- 
ing the second and tbird quarters of 
the present century, and wbich is at 
present going forward with increas- 
ing momentum. It is only that erer- 
lasting, or at least eternal and trou- 
blesome, category of space that pre- 
rents the extracting of anecdote after 
anecdote in illustration of these state- 
ments. 



LOGICAL BOOKKEEPING.! 

, This is a curiously-reasoned body 

* of doctrine, or corpus juris, beginning 
with a fundamental proposition in 
political economy, and proceeding on, 
by regular steps, to very full details 
of practical book-keeping. Thus : — 
Values are eitber commercial (viz., 
money, property, or securities), or 
ideal (viz., " labor or service," includ- 
ing expenses and proceeds of capi- 
tal). 

Book-keeping registers exchange 
of these values. As all values are 
» either commercial, ideal, or mixed, 
I either of the three may be exchanged 

against either : whence the only nine 
possible kinds of business-exchanges 
in " nine equations ; " viz., commercial 
for commercial, for ideal, &,q^ 

The "thirteen results*" are shown 
thus: you can be in nb more than 
three cases at beginning a course of 
business, — either you have something, 

> The Logic of Accountt ; a New ExposiUon of 
the Theory and Practice of Double-Entry Book- 
keeplogf baaed in Value, a« being of Two Primary 
ClMiet, Commercial and Ideal; and redodng all 
their Exchanges to Nine EqaaUons and Thirteen 
Retoltt. By £. O. Folsom. New York: A. 6. 
B«net&Go. 8fo. Half roan. $2. 



or you have nothing, or you have less 
than nothing (i.e. are insolvent). From 
the first position you may come out at 
five points, — to more capital, to less, 
to the same, to nothing, to less than 
nothing. From nothing you may get 
to bave something, nothing, or less ; 
firom insolvency, to more insolvency, 
to the same, to less, to paying-point, 
to gain. There are thirteen results. 
Business admits of no more, says Mr. 
Folsom. 

This elaborate analysis, which re- 
minds one of the exhaustive exhibi- 
tion of the syllogism in Whately's 
Logic, may be reduced to three cases : 
you gain, you lose, you do neither. 

The real value of the book, however, 
has, equally with this rather wire- 
drawn exposition, resulted from the 
author's unusual power of systematiz- 
ing clearly and completely. When 
be comes to tb^ practical part, his 
explanations and illustrations are re- 
markably full and intelligible; inso- 
much even that any person of average 
ability could take the book and the 
blanks, and become a competent book- 
keeper all by himself, allowing, of 
course, for a little practical experience 
sucb as a lawyer or a doctor or any- 
body must have. And, if the theo- 
retical introduction should bother the 
pupil, let him just begin at page 80, 
chapter vii., with the words, " We are 
now prepared to work out transac- 
tions," and let him work them out, and 
take bis theory last. 



SCHOOL ETHICS.* 
Good morals and gentle manners 
are the first and greatest of the wants 
of our country to-day. Intelligence 
and energy are abundant; but the 
careful observer of the times knows 

^ Good Moralf and Gentle Manners. For Schools 
and Families. By Alexander M. Gow. Olnoln- 
naU: Wilson, Hinklo, & Oo. Cloth. $1.26. 



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112 Pvtmwi'8 Elemerdary Science Series. — Lars. 



that our danger is lest these be used 
for immoral purposes. That they are 
exerted in an inelegant manner is a 
different difficulty, and doubtless not 
so important; but it is important 
enough. 

Mr. Gow's little book is a classified 
compend of the leading topics under 
three main heads : I. Moral Law ; IL 
Municipal Law ; IIL Social Law, or 
Politeness. The topics are well ar- 
ranged, the spirit of the book excel- 
lent, the discussions competent; and 
the questions at the foot of each page 
are siifficient to enable the teacher to 
ask as many more as are necessary ; 
for abundant extempore questions are 
indispensable in effective teaching. 
No school can counteract an immoral 
or vulgar home-infiuence ; but this 
class-book, properly used, will form a 
good basis for all that schools can do. 



PUTNAM'S ELEMENTARY 
SCIENCE SERIES.' 

These volumes are part of a series 
intended to contain so much instruc- 
tion in natural and mechanical science 
as shall be suitable for secondary and 
higher schools. The series, including 
twenty-five treatises in all (the vol- 
umes here noticed being those hither- 
to issudd), was written and first issued 
in England : otherwise it might not 
have been published in this country. 

1 Practical Plane and Sold Goometry. Bj 
Henry Angel. 

Machine Construotlon and Drawing. By Ed- 
ward Tomkins. 

Elements of Aooaetics : Light and Heat. By 
William Leet. 

A First Book of Mineralogy. By J. H. Col- 
lins. 

Steam and the Steam-engine : Land and Ma- 
rine. By Henry Evers. 

Steam and the LooomotlTe Enghie. By 
Henry Erers. 

Physical Geography. By John Macturk. 

IntroduoUon to Astronomy. By John I. 
Plummer. 

Being No*. 1, 2» 8, 13, 23 A, 22B, 23, 2S, of the 
Elementary Series. New York : G. P. Putnam's 
Sons. 160I0. Cloth. Per to1„ 75 cents. 



For, a^ things are, the experiment of 
issuing a moderate edition of such a 
series here, after it has first appeared 
there, is within the compass of a rea- 
sonable investment ; while to prepare 
and introduce them new would de- 
mand a very considerable capital spec- 
ulatively invested. This is a sufficient 
apology for the Iqpal references scat- 
tered throughout the volumes; but 
nevertheless one wishes them out. 
They are carefully prepared, are 
brought up abreast with the latest 
results and conclusions in their respec- 
tive departments, and are executed 
with a competent good faith that is 
very agreeable. No doubt there are 
scientists in this country capable of 
preparing a similar set of science and 
art manuals ; but the excessive cost, 
and the doubtfulness of the commercial 
result, have thus far prevented any 
such enterprises among us on a scale 
and in a manner equal to this. 



LARS.' 

Two young Norwegians quarrel, 
jealousy inciting them ; and, accord- 
ing to an old custom, they are stripped 
to the waist, fastened together, and 
in the presence of all the villagers, 
male and female, fight with knives, 
till Lars the hero kills his rival. It 
then appears that the deceased is 
favored by the rather coquettish maid, 
who proves faithful to her dead lover. 
Lars, despairing, comes to America, 
and is taken into service by a Quaker 
farmer with a lovely daughter. The 
old Berserker spirit is here tempered 
and softened through years of peace, 
with but one outbreak, in which he 
strikes the old Quaker, is forgiven, is 
afterwards converted to the Quaker 
faith, and marries the daughter. After 

1 Lars : a Pastoral of Norway. By Bayard Tay. 
lor. Osgood & Company : Boston, 1873. 



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the father's death, Lars returns to 
Norway with his wife, where they 
teach Christianity by their words and 
example. 

Into this story are woven descrip- 
tions of pastoral life and romantic in- 
cidents. The conversion and Chris- 
tian fortitude of Lars are beautifijiHy 
depicted. 

The interest of the story, the sim- 
plicity of its style, and its happy ver- 
gificatioo, make this an attractive 
little volume. 



WAGNER'S CHEOTCAL TBCBNOL- 
OGY.^ 
A STAin>ABi> and well-known work. 
As the author observes with weighty 
meaning, " The eighth edition having 
followed the seventh within two years, 
but few words of introduction are 
necessary.'^ The first edition came 
eut iif Germany in 1850, and the eighth 
twenty years afterwards, in 1870, — 
a success which means far more in 
Europe than in America. The chief 
divisions of the work are as follows : 
L Chemical Metallurgy. 11. Crude 
Chemical Products. III. Glass, Pot- 
tery, Gypsum, Lime, and Mortar. 
IV. Vegetable Fibres. V. Animal 
Substances. VL Dyeing and Calico- 
Printing. VTI. Artificial Light. VIIL 
Fuel, and Heating Apparatu9. The 
range of topics is great, the explana- 
tions of processes remarkably iull and 
dear, and the whole brought carefully 
down to the date of issue, 1870. The 
hterary merits of the translation, as 
edited by Mr. Grookes, are great ; and 
the management of it is such that it 
win be found extremely interesting 
and instructive to the general reader. 

*A Handbook of Chemical Technology. By 
Ssdolf Wagner, Ph.D., Professor of Chemical 
Tedmolosy ^ the University of Worzburg. Trans- 
hied and edited from the Eighth German Edition, 
vKk SxteoslTS Additions. By WlUlam Crookes, 
rJLS. Wm 88S niastratlons. New York: D. 
ApptetooaOo. Sto. Ctoth. $6. 
9 



PB0TE8TANT CHARITABLE 
SISTERHOODS.^ 

A USEFUL collection of information, 
constituting ** as nearly as possible a 
complete history of sisterhoods and 
deaconesses' associations in the Pro- 
testant Episcopal Church of the United 
States,'' together with accounts of the 
House of Mercy at Clewer, England, 
the celebrated Kaiserswerth Deacon- 
ess-House, the Mildmay Deaconesses' 
Home at London, the Sisters of Char- 
ity of the Society of the Exaltation 
of the Holy Cross at St. Petersburgh, 
and other similar institutions abroad. 
There are abundant forms for ordain- 
ing deaconesses, and sufficient state- 
ments of a theory (^ the work of such 
bodies. The book is, of coui^e, Chris- 
tian, Evangelical, Episcopalian. It is 
a suggestive and valuable little con- 
tribution to the history of practical 
Christianity, and throws broad side- 
lights on some points of what is called 
"The Woman Question." 



GERMAN.' 

This standard text-book, as the 
author with proper pride remarks in 
his Preface, has been favorably re- 
ceived for more than twenty years^ 
and has been republished in Europe. 
It contains a full series of exercises 
arranged on the principle of gradual 
progression, and a multitude of short 
phrases for practice, full vocabularies 
(Grerman-English and English-Ger- 
man), the usual paradigms, readiiig- 
exercises, and a compendious German % 
grammar. 

1 Sisterhoods and Deaconesses at Home and 
Abroad. By the Rev. Henry 0. Potter, D.D., 
Rector of Grace Church, New York. New York: 
B. P. Dntton & Co. lAmo. Cloth. $1.75. 

> A Complete Coarse with the (German Langnage. 
By W. H. Woodbury. New York : Ivlson, Blaka- 
iiiaii*Tayior,frOo. l&no. Half roan. 



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Professor JBadle^'s Esse^s. 



PROFESSOR HADLEY'S ESSAYS.* 

A NUMBER of these papers have 
already appeared in " The New-Eng- 
lander," "The Journal of the American 
Oriental Society," and elsewhere. Most 
of them are on philological questions ; 
the others heing historical or critical, 
except one or two, which are ethical, 
with a strong religious tone. They 
are written with ample learning and 
research, with remarkable justness and 
dispassionateness of tone, and in a 
perfectly quiet and limpid style. They 
form a memorial most appropriate in 
kind, and excellent in matter (as far 
as they go), of the singularly lucid, 
calm, powerful, just, and self-sufficing 
intellect of their writer, — a man who 
only lacked the single stimulus of 
ambition to have been famous. Every 
thoughtful reader of these pages wiU 
regret, first of all, that ithe writer wrote 
no more. 



VEGETABLE MANNERS." 
If everybody that enjoys this de- 
lightful little book is young, nobody 
that reads it will grow old, unless it 
be with desire after the larger trea- 
tise on the same subject, which Dr. 
Gray's Prefece announces. In read- 
ing these extremely curious accounts 
of the *^ tricks and the manners " of 
vegetables, it is not easy to help ask- 
ing, What is the bearing of these facts 
on the Darwinian hypotheses of se- 
lection and development ? Can those 
be applied, for instance, to the most 
marvellous fairy-story, — the relation- 
ship between- the orchis and the moth, 
in which the plant depends on the 
insect for aid in bearing seed ? 

lEways, Philological and CriUcal. Selected 
from the Papers of James Hadlcy, LL.D, New 
York : Holt & Williams. 8vo. Cloth. $4. 

•Botany for Young People. Partii. How Plants 
Behave, How they Move, Climb, Employ Insects to 
Work for them, &o. By Asa Gray. New York; 
Ivison, Blakeman, Taylor, & Go. Small 4to. Boards. 



CHEMISTRY.* 
A MODIFICATION, with abridgment, 
of the well-known and standard large 
work of Eliot and Storer. It is in- 
tended to carry the learner forward 
by the sound method of his own ex- 
perimental practice, instead of the 
old fashion of talking, questioning, 
and letting him look on at a few ex- 
periments. There is a very useful 
Appendix, with details about chemical, 
apparatus and manipulation; and a 
distinct impression of full and accu- 
rate knowledge is given by the defi- 
niteness and directness of the state- 
ments and directions. 



THE BIBLE OF THE AGES. " 

The narrowness which has been a 
reproach to Christian writers, and 
which led them to disparage •every 
thing outside of the Hebrew or Chris- 
tian pale, is fast giving way to a just- 
er appreciation of the thought and 
work of really true and good men 
wherever found. The volume of 
selections by Mr. G. B. Stebbins is a 
child of this new intellectual Catholi- 
cism. It contains fragments of ^* the 
deepest thoughts, the clearest spiritual 
light andlife> of the whole human race.*' 
The editor has reached back into the 
past,- and plucked fruits from the Ve- 
das, the Buddhist commandments, 
Confucius, Zoroaster, the precepts of 
Jesus, the philosophers of Greece, the 
teachings of Andrew Jackson Davis, 
and the later utterances of the Free- 
Religionists. Here, indeed, is a store- 
house of seed-thoughts of sufficient 

1 An Elementary Manual of Chemistry ; abridged 
from Eliot and Storer'd Manual, with the co-opera. 
Uon of the authors. By "William Uipley Nichola, 
New York: Ivison, Blakeman, Taylor, & Oo. 
12mo. Cloth. 

« Chapters from "The Bible of the Affes." Oom. 
piled and edited by G. B. Stebbins, Detooit, Midi. 
Published by the editor, 1878. 



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115 



Tariety to suit all tastes. The editor 
has made a very suggestive book. We 
have been strack with the fact that 
only two pa^es are given to the words 
of Jesus,and scarcely one to Paul, mak- 
ing nearly three pagef in all from the 
New Testament; while T. W. Higgin- 
soa has sixteen pages, and Andrew 
Jackaon Davis nearly thirteen pages. 



AMERICAN EDUCATIONAL READ- 
ERS.* 

Suitable selections, printed un- 
Qsually well, with good illustrations 
veiy well engraved on wood by John 
Karat, and with proper summary in- 
structions as to elocution, &c Newly 
cbosen reading-matter must, from time 
to time, be furnished for the children. 
It is a curious illustration of the spirit 
of the age, that the newspapers have 
famished their share to these school- 
booki. 



United States Supreme Court, of all 
the governors of all the States since 
the adoption of the Constitution in 
1789 ; tables of the National and State 
public debts, of denominational statis- 
tics; alphabetical lists of names of 
Congregational, Episcopal, Lutheran, 
Presbyterian, and some other clergy- 
men in the United States (they 
couldn't make room for Methodists 
and Baptists); lists of colleges, &c. 
It is the best statistical annual that 
we know of for this country at pres- 
ent. 



THE NEW-YORK OBSERVEB YEAR- 
BOOK.* 
A CONVENIENT and solid mass of 
statistics and information. It con- 
taiDs a photo-lithographic facsimile, 
reduced, of the first issue of "The 
New York Observer," fifty years ago, 
on May 17, 1823 ; portraits of Sidney 
£. Motse and Bichard C. Morse, who 
* founded it ; a brief sketch of the his- 
tory of the paper for this period ; the 
usual astronomical information ; a bet- 
ter hst of the officers of the United 
States Government than that given 
m " The Tribune Almanac," as it con- 
tains the names of the heads of de- 
partment bureaus ; an excellent his- 
torical table of all the justices of the 

* The American Edacatlonal Readers. Ar. 
Miged and graded for the Ute of Schools (First, 
Seeood, Third, and Foorth Readers) . New York : 
IfisoQ, Blakeman, Taylor, & Co. 12mo. Boards. 

« The New-York Observer Jabilee Ycar-Book, 
1S<1 New York: Sidney E. Morse ft Oo. 8vo. 



WORCESTER'S POCKET DICTION- 
^ ARY.i 

A REAL pocket dictionary; smaller 
than a good many money pocket- 
books. It is skilfully condensed ; but 
its judiciously chosen type, and good 
ink and presswork, make it clear and 
readable, notwithstanding the small 
letter. The woodcuts are, perhaps, as 
much for fashion as for necessity; 
but the tables of weights, measures, 
money, &c., at the end, are positively 
useful. 

THE BERBER.* 
A RE-I88UB of a lively and spirit- 
ed story illustrating the state of soci- 
ety in the Barbary States. It is ap- 
parently faithful in its descriptions of 
scenery, manners, and characteristic 
incidents. Some of the more star- 
tling events are, the author says, his- 
toric. The points of the story are 
artistically dispersed, and its interest 
is kept up to the end. It well sus- 
tains the reputation of the author. 

^ A Pocket Dictionary of the English Lan- 
gtkge, compiled from the Quarto and School Dic- 
tionaries of Joseph E. Worcester. By Loorois J; 
Campbell. With Illustrations and numerous tcbles. 
Boston : Brewer ^ Tileston. 82mo. Cloth. 

. * The Berber: a Tale of Morocco. By W. S. 
Mayo, 11.D. New York: G. P. Pntnam's Sons. 
12mo. Cloth. 



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116 



C(mle% an Psalms. 



COWLES ON PSALMS.* 

Rev. Db. Hbnry Cowles has pre- 
pared a volume on the Psalms, de* 
signed for ministers and their hearers. 
The notes are ranning commentaries 
on the text, and are very like exposi- 
tory sermons. The author regards 
the book of Psalms " as a growth^ — 
the accumulation of religious odes 
composed during the lapse of several 
centuries, and hence a national pro- 
duct of the piety and talent on the 
one hand, and of providential circum- 
stances on the other, which make up 
the religious history of the covenant 
people during those most favored ages 
of the national life." 

The book will be useful to minis- 
ters who are unable to consult the 
original sources, and will be of real 
service to the general reader. It is a 
decided improvement on many of the 
popular commentaries made from the 
hash of old and effete biblical schol- 
arship. 

THE VOX HUMANA." 
This musigal monthly is named, no 
doubt, from a stop, because it is to 
go on. The lively writing and keen 
practical good sense of its editor are 
making it go, at any rate, and at a 
brisk pace. It is not pretentious^ not 
a " swell organ," by any means ; nor 
on the other hand, does it stoop to 
any thing of a low and pedalling na- 
ture. It is readable, plain spoken, and 
gives some really good music in every 
number: for instance, in that for, 
June 23, next on hand, a song by 
Kucken, and an organ pastorale by 
J. S. Bach. This last selection is 

» The PMlmi, with Notes, CriUcal, Expository, 
and Practical ; designed for both pastors and peo- 
ple. By Henry CJowles, D.D. New York: Apple, 
ton and Company, 649 and 661 Broadway. 1872. 

* Tlie Vox Humana. A Journal of Music 
and Hunlcal Informaiion. Edited by Charles 
Barnard. Canbrldgeport, Mass. Monthly. $1.00 
aye«ir. 10 cents a number, ito. 16pag«s. 



meant to show that Mr. Barnard has 
invented an improvement on the 
Wadsworth mottoes ; for he means to 
go forward, and Bach too. 



PUTNAM'S EDUCATIONAL MANU- 
ALS.' 

Two neat and handy little com- 
pends in their respective departments 
of language, and containing abundant 
materials for all ordinary purposes, 
and arranged in the very sensible 
modem fashion, with bold-faced lower- 
case letter for the catch-words. 



PUTNAM'S POPULAR MANUALS.* 

Of these two Manuals of Popular 
Science, the first is by a well-known 
and instructive, as well as entertaining, 
writer on astronomical subjects. The 
second is by a less known authw 
whose scientific work is competently 
done, although his popularizing is not 
quite skilful enough, and some of his 
polemics are ^ little too bitter. 



ROBERT BRUCE.* 
By way of showing how a kingdom 
can be reconquered, M. Marmier gives 
a history of the life of Robert Bruce. 
He makes a very pleasant story of it, 
from such authorities as Barbour, 

1 A Dfotionary of Synonymes of the Kngllsh 
Langfuace^with Hoots, Definitions, and the Pro- 
nanclation of each Word. Mew York: Q. P. 
Putnam's Sons. 18roo. Cloth. $!. 

A Dictionary oft be Deriratlons of the Rnglish 
Langusge, in which each Word is trac^^d to its 
Primary Root ; forming a Text-Book of Etymolo* 
gy. With Deflnltions, and itie Pronunciation of 
each Word. New York : G. P. Putuam's Sons. 
18mo. Cloth. $1. 

> Half- Hours with the Telescope. By Richard 
A. Proctor. Illustrations. New York : O. P. 
Putnam's Sons. 16mo. Cloth. 

A Manual of Popular Physiology; being an 
Attempt to explain the Science of Life in Untech- 
nical LangQa<re. By Henry Lawson, M.D. Kew 
York : G. P. Putnam's bons. lOmo. Lloth. 

1 Robert Bruce : Comment on Reoonqulert im 
Rojaume. Par X. Marmier. Paris: Herehette 
et Cie. Boston : Sohoenhof A MoeUer. 



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Cottage Residences^ 



117 



Froissart, Tytle, and Walter Scott. 
As " The Tales of a Grandfather " are 
probably not very widely read in these 
days, this story will be new to many 
young readers, who will find another 
charm in making it out from a foreign 
language. The book is in handsome 
print, and attractiye in appearance, as 
well as contents. ^'The present 
time," the author says, '^ resembles 
but little that of Robert Bruce." 
Bat he believes that the history of 
the Scotch hero may be a lesson in 
perseverance to the French in the 
tecoTery of their lost kingdoms. 



COTTAGE RESIDENCES.* 

Few books were ever printed less 
pretentions than the little series of 
Mr. A. J. Downing, which, under 

* VMying titles^ had practically the 
same object ; namely, to show to a 
benighted generation of house-build- 
ers the blackness in which they were 
gzoping, and to point out a brighter 
^ay. 

Mr. Downing was a young man 
liring at Newburgh on the Hudson, 
where he maintained an establish- 
ment which he called the '^ Botanic 
Nurseries," and devoted his time to 
the laying-out and planting of gentle- 

1^ men's grounds. He had studied Lou- 
don's works, and had come procbptly 
enough to a sense of the monstrous 
• tigliness of the so-called villas which 
were multiplying all over the land. 
In 1841 he published, as the result 
of his reading and study, a little 
work quite in the line of his trade, 
called "A Treatise on the Theory, 
and Practice of Landscape-Gardening, 

* CoilBge Reddencec ; or, A Serlef of Designs for 
Karal Ck>Ui«es and Cottage Villas, and their Gar. 
deas sod Grounds. By A. J. Downing. New Edi- 
doB, with rerised Lists of Trees, Shrubs, Fruits, 
1^ By H. W. Sargent and C. Downing. Edited 
Vy George £. Harvey. New York: John Wiley fr 
6on.4to. aoth. 



ads^ted to North America; with a 
View to the Improvement of Country 
Besidences, &c. With Remark^ on 
Rural Architecture." This was an 
octavo of four hundred and fifty pages, 
of which, perhaps, four hundred were 
wholly on landscape-gardening: the 
remaining fifty were occupied with 
brief descriptions, accompanied by 
rude woodcuts, of ten or a dozen coun- 
try-seats, mostly on or near the Hud- 
son. Having thus opened the vein, 
he continued it the next yeai: with a 
little work of less than four hundred 
pages, entitled '^ Cottage Besidences : 
a Series of Ten Designs for Rural Cot- 
tages and their Gardens and Grounds, 
adapted to North America.'' The. 
drawings consisted of small plans and 
perspective views on a small scale, and 
were in the nature of what are tech- 
nically called preliminary sketches. 
They were characterized by invari- 
ahle good taste, modesty, and reserve, 
and exactly met the need of the time. 
It is not too much to say that this 
little book put an end to the hitherto 
undisputed reign of the village carpen- 
ter, and opened the eyes of people 
interested in such matters to the pos- 
sibility of combining simplicity with 
beauty. And making allowance for 
the fact, that, since this book was 
written, it has grown to be the com- 
mon practice for a man about to build 
even a small house to put himself 
into the hands of a professional archi- 
tect, the book is just as useful to-day 
as it was thirty years ago, — especially 
that portion of it which relates to the 
laying-out and planting of gardens 
and grounds, which contains much 
information which everybody needs, 
and few possess ; and which is less 
generally supplied by professional 
assistance. 

This book, originally printed as a 
thin octavo, has, we presume, been 



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118 



Other New Books. 



for some years out of print We are 
now presented with a new edition, 
resplendent in green and gold binding; 
with a large quarto page and tinted 
paper, in which the quiet author 
would hardly recognize his own work. 
Moreover, the editor, who improves 
the convenient opportunity of the 
titlepage to display his own business- 
card, has added to the original work 
a dozen designs of his own, which com- 
pare unfavorably with liflr. Downing's, 
and which, independently of their 
merit, we cannot but consider imper- 
tinent and out of place. It is not 
quite fair to any author who is no 
longer capable of giving or withhold- 
ing his assent, to load his finished 
work, which has earned the favor and 
good will of a generation of readers, 
with the burden of a postscript as 
large as the original. 

Mr. Downing wrote his book for 
the use and guidance of people of 
moderate means intending to build 
small houses in the country; and it 
was printed in a form which brought 
it easily within the reach of such peo- 
ple. The present volume is an ceuvre 
de luxe ; and we shall be more likely 
to find it on rich men's tables than 
in the hands of those for whose use 
the book was first made. * 

In 1850 Mr. Downing published 
his third and last work, — the archi- 
tecture of country-houses, of which as 
the largest and most valuable of his 
works, containing the result of a 
larger experience and a maturer 
thought, and covering a much broader 
field, we shall hope, to see shortly a 
new edition. 

OTHER NEW BOOKS. 
NOVELS. 

Murphy's Master. By James 
Payn. New York : Harper & Broth- 
ers. 8vo. * Paper. 25 cents. 



Kenelh Chillingly : his Adven- 
tures and Opinions. By E. L. Bul- 
wer (Lord Lytton). New York : Har- 
per & Brothers. Cloth. $1.75. 

The Same. 8vo. Paper. 75 
cents. 

The New Magdalen. By Wil- 
kie Collins. New York: Harper & 
Brothers. 8vo. Paper. 60 cents. 

Bleak House. By Charles Dick- 
ens. Household Edition. New York: 
Harper & Brothers. Royal 8vo. 
Cloth. $1.50. 

LORIMER LiTTLEGOOD, Esq. By 
Frank E. Smedley. Philadelphia: 
T. B. Peterson & Brotliers. 12mo. 
Cloth. $1.75. 

The Old Countess ; or, The Two 
Proposals. A Sequel to *^ Lord Hope's 
Choice.'' By Mrs. Ann. H. Ste- 
phens. Philadelphia: T. B. Peterson 
& Brothers. 12mo. Cloth. $1.75. 

Old JJIensington. By Miss 
Thackeray. Illustrated. New York : 
Harper & Brothers. 8vo. Cloth. 
$1.50. 

Little Grandfather. By So- 
phie May. Illustrated. (Little Pru- 
dy's Fly-away Series.) Boston : Lee 
& Shepard. 18mo. Cloth. 75 cents. 

Hero Cabthew. By Louisa Parr. 
New York : Holt & Williams. 16ma 
Cloth. $1.25. 

Under the Greenwood Tree. 
By T. Hardy. New York: Holt & 
WiUiams. 16mo. Cloth. $1.25. 

A Strange Story. By Lord 
Lytton. New York : Harper & Bro- 
thers. 12mo. Cloth. $1.00. 

miscellaneous. 

Woman in American Society. 
By Abba Goold Woolson. Boston: 
Roberts Brothers. 16mo. Cloth. 

Questions op the Day. By 
Rev. John Hall, D.D. New York: 
Dodd & Mead. 12mo. Cloth. 



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119 



The Mbk of the Thibd Repub- 
uc\ or, The Present Leaders of 
France. Beprinted from the London 
DaOy News. Philadelphia : Porter & 
Coates. 12mo. Cloth. $1.76. 

Betsy Lee : a Fo'cVle Yam. A 
Poem. New York : MacmiUan & Co. 
ISmo. Cloth. 75 cents. 

Miss Beecher's Housekeepeb 
AND Healthkeepeb ; containing 
Five Hundred Receipts for Economi- 
cal and Healthful Cooking; also 
Many Directions for Securing Health 
and Happiness. Approved by Phy- 
sicians of all classes. New York: 
Harper & Brothers. 12mo. Cloth. 
11.50. 

The Life of Fbanz Sohitbbrt. 
By George Lowell Austin. Portrait. 
Boston: Shepard & Gill 18mo. 
OotL $1.26. 

The Atlantic to the Paoipio : 
What to See, and How to See it. By 
John Erastus Lester. Boston : Shep- 
aid&GilL 16mo. Cloth. $1.50. 

•Public and Parlor Readings ; 
for the Use of Dramatic and Reading 
Clubs, and for Puhlic, Social, and 
School Entertainment. Dialogues 
and Dramas. Edited by Lewis B. 
Monroe. Boston: Lee & Shepard. 
12ma Cloth. $1.50. 

Liberty, Equality, Fraternity. 
By James FitzJames Stephen, Q. C. 
New York : Holt & Williams. 12mo. 
Cloth. $2. 

Literature and Dogma. An 
Essay towards a Better Apprehension 
of the Bihle. By Matthew Arnold. 
Boston: J. B. Osgood & Co. 16mo. 
Cloth. $L50. 



Scintillations from the Prose 
Works of Heinrigh Heine. 
Translated from the German by Si- 
mon Adler Stern. New York : Holt 
& Williams. 16mo. Cloth. $1.25. 

Farm Ballads. By Will Carle- 
ton. Illustrated. New York: Har^ 
per & Brothers. Small 4to. Cloth. 
$2. 

The Year. By D. C. Coleswor- 
thy. Boston : Lee & Shepard. 16mo. 
Cloth. 

Monographs, Personal and 
Social. By Lord Houghton. Por- 
traits. New York : Holt & Williams. 
12mo. Cloth. $2. 

The Ministry we need. By S. 
Sweetser. Boston: Am. Tract Soci- 
ety. 18mo. Cloth. 75 cents. 

In Memoriam. Matthew Fon- 
taine Maury. 8vo. Paper. 32 pages. 
1873. 

The Eailroad Question. State 
Ownership no Remedy for Existing 
Evils. A Reply to Mr. C. F. Adams, 
jun. By Richard S. Spofiford. Bos- 
ton : Roberts Brothers. 8to. Paper. 
50 pages. 

Physical GBoaRAPHY. By Ar- 
chibald Geikie. Illustrations. (Sci- 
ence Primers, No. IV.) New York : 
D. Appleton & Co. 18m6. Cloth. 

The American's Hajj^d-Book to 
Vienna and the Exhibition, 
With Information in regard to Routes, 
Expenses, Hotels, &c. By C. W. 
DeBemardy. Map and Illustrations. 
Philadelphia: Porter & Coates. 
12mo. Cloth limp. 75 cents. 

Modern Magic. By M. Scheie 
de Vere. New York: G. P. Put- 
nam's Sons. 12mo. Cloth. $2. 



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A PREPARATORY SCHOOL. 
Ik another part of this magazine 
I have expressed somewhat radical 
views concerning the requirements of 
university education in America. All 
who agree with them will unite in 
recognizing one effective way of has- 
tening the reform there indicated. 
The school and the college are parts 
of one system, and must improve or 
degenerate together. It is by com- 
pelling the professor to attempt work 
which he must do poorly, but which 
might have been well done at school, 
that his office is hampered and be- 
littled. The position which is false for 
a college instructor is the true one for 
the master of a school. His sphere 
is not, or should not be, so large as 
to preclude the constant oversight 
of those submitted to his care. He 
deals with boys who know that they 
are boys. To him belongs the au- 
thority of the parent j to the profes- 
sor, the guidance, by example and 
counsel, of the elder brother. 

In the last July number of " Old 
and New," it was mentioned that a 
classical school, which had been en- 
dowed fifty years before by the first 
President Adams, was about to open 
in his native town. And now Mr. 
Hale thinks that a few words con« 
cerning the prospects of that semina- 
ry might be of interest to some of 
his readers. I could consent to write 
them, only after declaring that the 
favorable condition in which the 



Adams Academy enters the second 
year of its work is owing very little 
to the action of those officially in- 
trusted with its control. It is chiefly 
due to the generous exertions of the 
able and accomplished gentleman 
whom they were so fortunate as to 
secure for its Master. The success 
of the Adams Academy shows the 
demand which exists for schools of 
the higher grade which shape their 
instruction with a special view to the 
criterion of our best colleges. It shows 
that our people are beginning to real- 
ize the truth which President Porter 
of Yale 'has stated in this emphatic 
language: '<The great want of 
America is an organized system of 
secondary schools. If the tens of 
millions of dollars that have been 
wasted, and worse than wasted, in 
founding superfluous colleges and 
pretended universities, had. been be- 
stowed in endowing classical schools 
of the highest order, the colleges 
themselves, and the general education 
of the country, would long ago have 
been lifted to a higher position." 

It may be worth while to mention 
the leading characteristics of the 
plan of education which the Adams 
Academy is designed to carry into 
effect. It will be found, in some 
respects, different from other endowed 
schools existing for the same general 
objects. The managing board of di- 
rectors are required to be residents of 
the academic town, in order that the 

120 



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A Preparatory School 



121 



school may be constantly under their 

inspection, and an appeal be made to 

them at any moment. The Master 

is, howeyer, the responsible head of 

the school, and is held accountable for 

the quality of the tuition, as well as 

for the moral and physical well being 

of those confided to his chai^ He 

I must provide thorough and extended 

r instruction in the different studies 

necessary for admittance to college ; 

and this instruction must be made a 

training by means of a regular school 

session. He must see that the 

eyening studies of pupils residing in 

the town are pursued under super- 

yision, and with suitable assistance. 

He most conduct the instruction 

at. the beginning and end oC the 

school course ; it being considered that 

the btroduction to the study of Latin, 

* and the closing year of Latin and 

Greek, demand his personal attention. 

The number of pupils that will be 

received at the Adams Academy is 

placed at a limit much below that of 

other endowed classical schools. This 

is done in order that the Master may 

know the ability, character, and needs 

of every boy. It is believed that each 

papil should be appealed to as an 

individual of separate and special 

responsibilities, — the possessor of 

'p his own peculiar talents, for the use 

I of which he is accountable. But the 

Adams Academy is in no sense a 

reformatory institution ; and no boy 

of vicious or depraved habits, from 

whatever rank of society he may 

come, will be allowed to remain at 

the school. In case such a boy is 

inadvertently admitted, his parent 

or guardian will be privately notified 

that a prompt removal is required. 

The work of reforming the vicious is 

undoubtedly noble : but it is not one 

that can here be undertaken ; for 

it is desired that the intercourse of 



the boys, both with their teachers and 
with each other, shall be an education 
in well-doing and right feeling, none 
the less efficient because the pupils 
are unconscious of its processes. Such 
religious instruction is attempted 
as a school unsectarian in its 
character may properly give. The 
daily session is always opened by 
reading a chapter from the Bible, 
selected for its historical interest or 
its ethical instruction : this is fol- 
lowed by the Lord's Prayer, or by 
some simple form of petition in which 
all Christians may join. On Sunday 
the pupils are required to attend 
whatever church their parents may 
select But, in the afternoon of that 
day, the Master will hereafter hold a 
Bible class devoted to such scriptural 
studies as all sects agree are profita- 
ble for young people. These will be 
followed by plain talk upon such daily 
duties as his intercourse with his 
pupils during the past week may sug- 
gest. But more confidence is felt in 
the power of carefully guarded associa- - 
tions to instil right feelings than in 
those formal methods which profess to 
inculcate them. The attempt to pro- 
vide adequate training for the whole 
nature is experimental, and may, in 
many respects, fail to meet expecta- 
tions. The large building which is 
to be occupied as a school boarding- 
house, and which will be under the 
absolute control of the master, offers 
an opportunity without which such a 
design could not hope for execution. 
It will, in any case, enable him to 
attend to the important matters of 
exercise, ventilation, and food. Care 
will be taken that the boys study and 
play upon a good substratum of phys- 
ical nourishment. A part is some- 
times greater than the whole, not- 
withstanding the definitions of phi- 
losophers. The argumentum ad pue- 



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122 



A Preparatory School 



rum comes with double cogency, if the 
argumentum ad ventrem has duly 
preceded it. 

Sensible persons have already per- 
ceived that the scheme of education 
just sketched is worth little more 
than the paper upon which it is print- 
ed, except upon one condition. The 
inquiry will be made, What sort of 
Master have you to carry this out? 
Upon this point, it is well to avoid 
speaking with undue confidence. It 
can only be said that those who know 
most about the Adams Academy be- 
lieve that it has a teacher fully able 
to realize the plans of its directors. 
It seems to them that Dr. Dimmock 
comprehends the responsibility of 
his position, and, what is more to 
the purpose, enters into its labors 
with that keen enjoyment which well- 
organized men take in doing work 
that they do well. It is certainly not 
time to say that he can solve the 
problem of awakening the consciences 
of healthy boys as Arnold solved it 
at Rugby ; but it may be safely af- 
firmed that he has the nameless 
power that wins the confidence of 
young persons, as well as the abup- 
dant sympathy with them which is 
worth more to a teacher than all 
the linguistic niceties with which 
pedants have troubled themselves. 

Upon the general subject of classi- 
cal schools, it may be remarked, not 
only that there is a certain American 
prejudice against them, but that many 
men who are too intelligent to share 
in the feeling have yet some sympa- 
thy with it. When a writer so popu- 
lar and interesting as Mr. Parton 
permits himself to talk about "the 
obstructing nuisances of Latin and 
Greek," his words have undoubted 
weight with masses of easy-going 
readers. An^, so far as such strictures 
have been applied to the manner in 



which the ancient tongues have been 
commonly crowded into young minds, 
I am not disposed to complain of their 
severity. Many of us were taught 
Latin at an age when an appeal could 
be made only to the verbal memory ; 
and this memory, once having taken 
possession of the field, never seemed 
able to give place to any real appre- 
hension. About how many busy brains 
still float those dreary lists of excep- 
tions to incomprehensible rules, — frag- 
ments of a wreck which never came 
to haven in the understanding I The 
wholesome curiosity of the boy was 
choked with an unvitalized mass of 
word-knowledge. To the child of 
seven or eight years, the ablative ab- 
solute may have a pleasant alliterative 
jingle ; but it seems as' essentially 
" unknowable " as is the absolute it- 
self to the philosopher. Yet, if it be 
true that the amount of time often 
spent over classical acquirements is 
out of all proportion to their results, 
it furnishes no presumption against 
the advantage that a boy of fourteen, 
who has already acquired a good Eng^ 
lish education, may find in commen- 
cing classical studies under intelligent 
instruction. Indeed, it is not improb- 
able that the continuance of this edu- 
cation may be best defended upon the 
identical ground occupied by those who 
assail it, — the bewildering multipli- 
cation of wise and valuable modem 
books. Under the same roof with the 
Adams Academy has been placed 
one of the best-selected town libraries 
in the country. And the thoughtful 
visitor can scarcely help observing 
how these two educational institutions 
correct and complement each other. 
It has certainly seemed to me that 
the minute and exhaustive study of 
a few ancient authors in the school 
was just what was wanted to cultivate 
those powers of attention and compre- 



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123 



bensioQ which would enahle one to 
use the library to the highest advan- 
tage. But let as not make a fetish 
of any thing. There is no harm in 
modestly expressing the conyiction 
that a mastery of the grammar and 
literature of one ancient language 
would be better for many persons 
than the very partial knowledge of 
two which is attained by the 'mass 
of college graduates. Some of us may 
live to see the day when a thorough 
acquaintance with German or French 
shall be accepted as the equivalent of 
one of the ancient tongues in prepara- 
tion for college. When this comes to 
pass, an option of the modem lan- 
guage will be offered by the Adams 
Academy. 

The object of this paper is not to 
give undue importance to the estab- 
lishment of a single school of very 
limited capacity. It is rather to sug- 
gest the demand that exists through- 
out the country for academies of a 
similar or an improved character. Our 
people will sustain them upon one 
condition. They must be public tn- 
itihUiom. I do not mean that no fees 
should be charged. On the contrary, 
the expenses of such schools must be 
fer greater than any ordinary endow- 
ments can meet ; and on every account 
it is best that those who are able to do 
80 should pay some portion of the cost 
of the education of their children. But 
the great schools of our nation should 
never be controlled by close corpora- 
tions of trustees bound to ^^arry out, 
for all time, the possibly silly whims 
of a dead man. John Adams wisely 
left the direction of his classical 
academy in the power of the living 
generations of men who shall vote in 
his native town. And the result has 
proved his foresight. When the 
school was opened, his townsmen 
came forward in their private capaci- 



ties, and guaranteed generous aid to 
his endowment fund. It is to private 
liberality that we owe the new dormi- 
tory which promises to be of so much 
advantage to the school. The assist- 
ance that* has been offered to the 
academy by leading citizens of Quincy 
who were neither classical scholars, 
nor had children to educate, is a most 
interesting circumstance. It shows 
that sensible people realize that col- 
lege cant and anti-college cant are 
equally absurd. There is no first or 
last, about the matter. We want 
different educations for different boys. 
The wise farmer will feed his grains 
upon phosphates, and his potatoes 
upon potash and salt. But a bushel 
of early-rose potatoes is as important 
in its way as a bushel of wheat; and 
a good potato is certainly much better 
than a blasted ear of corn. 

The Adams Academy can hope to 
supply only a very small portion of 
the demand which exists for '^ classi- 
cal schools of the highest order." Its 
greatest usefulness may be in inducing 
other communities to equal or surpass 
it. J. P. Quincy. 



THE PRACTlfcAL MAGAZINE.! 

This is one more of the now nu- 
merous English periodicals trhich, 
like books, are of late years so com- 
monly manufactured in England, 
shipped three thousand miles, and 
furnished to American consumers for 
less than it would cost to make them 
here. To object to the process -|^ as 
things are — is like saying how sad 

1 ThePmctlcal Mftffftzlne: an Illustrated Cj- 
clopaedia of Industiial News, Inventions, and 
Improvements, collected fh)m Foreifni and Brit- 
ish Sources, for rhe Use of those concerned In 
Raw Uaterials, Machinery, Manufactures, Build- 
ing and Decoration. London : Published for the 
Propiletary/ Boston: J. R. Osgood Bt .Co. 
Monthly. Vol. I. No. 1. February, 1S73. Per 
number, $1.00. 



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The Practical Magazine. 



it is that lead ginks in the water. 
Yet there are abundant reasons for 
wishing that we could ourselves make 
such good wood-cuts, such good paper 
and ink, such good press-work, and 
often such well prepared articles, 
as they make on the other side. 
Note that this is not covetousness 
nor envy ; it is only a righteous am- 
bition ; and meanwhile we do not 
undervalue our neighbor's merchan- 
dise. The Practical Magazine is a 
monthly periodical, of the same gen- 
eral class with our own "Scientific 
American," but aiming to cover 
wider ground, and on a higher plane. 
The Boston firm of J. R. Osgood & 
Co. have arranged to have an edition 
with their imprint sent over, and thus 
furnish it as the American publish- 
ers. 

The three numbers which we have 
seen contain a good deal of interest- 
ing and useful matter. How far it 
will prove practically adapted to 
American industrial conditions, is for 
experience to decide; but to enable 
our readers as far as we can to judge 
for themselves, we note the subjects 
of the principal papers in the Februa- 
ry number, not naming a number ot 
shorter articles and paragraphs : 

BicJgraphy and portrait of Mr. Bol- 
ckow, an English ironmaster and 
member of parliament, a " self-made 
man " of German birth ; with a good 
deal of history about the iron busi- 
ness in the Cleveland district 

Account of some of the chief in- 
ventions of the Cornish engineer 
Richard Trevithick, with cuts. 

Notes on Farm Manure Pits, Sheds 
and Tanks, with cuts. 



Manufacture of Rivets, with cuts 
of machines. 

Commercial and Manufacturing 
Industries of Russia, with descrip- 
tions and statistics (otfe of a series). 

Two short papers on American in- 
ventions, with cuts, viz., a napping 
machine, and a mode of excavating 
canals and reclaiming waste land 
together. 

Experiments on tension of driving 
bands of leather, India rubber and 
gutta percha, by M Tresca of the 
Paris Conservatoire des Arts et Me- 
tiers. 

Mineral Wealth of Spain, with 
statistics. 

Loss of sodium in Leblanc's pro- 
cess for making Soda. 

Abstracts of German papers on 
civil engineering, architecture, and 
building; translated from the Leip- 
zig " Civili Engineer " (one of a se- 
ries). 

Practical Note-book of Technical 
Information for Students and Work- 
men (on cutting out ornamental 
wood-work, mouldings, &c) with 
many illustrations (series). 

Notes on Industries of the North 
of Europe (series). 

Applied Chemistry; being brief 
abstracts from chemical periodicals, 
transactions, &c. (series). 

Art Studies from Nature, as applied 
to Design (a review of a book, with 
cuts). 

— There ; anybody can see how sug- 
gestive a set of articles that is ; and 
without much technical knowledge it 
is easy also to perceive that there is a 
great deal of useful information in 
the work 



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gittskal lleijkto. 



[Ftgoret 1 to 7 indiutve indleste degree of dlfll- 
flolQr; e^., 1 yery easy* 7 very dil&cult. OapltaU 
(A to G) the key. Bm^ letter* without brackeU, 
the nogo for the Toice.] 

Carl Pbitfsr, 30 West Street, 
Boston. 
Menuetto. 3. .P. Schubert . .25 

The minuet and short trio are 
from the fantasie in G major, Op. 78 ; 
fingering by Liszt. To give its true 
beantj requires careful attention to 
the light and shade. Execution not 
difficult , 

Variations on Bu8$ian Symn, 

4. Eug. Thayer 76 

This is the twelfth number of the 
Organ Eepertmre, several numbers of 
which we have already noticed. For 
pedal practice it is admirably adapted ; 
and the careful noting of the stops, 
and their combination, simplifies the 
rendering for any organist of average 
abOity. The adagio and finale par- 
ticularly e£fective for a closing church- 
service. 

Nursery Rhymes OcUop. y. 3. 

Ch. Koppitz 60 

The introduction 'in F, thp galop 
^^ finale in C. Quite simple if the 
sruall notes in the octave passages are 
omitted. Not especially original, but 
sufficiently rhythmic for a rushing 
galop. 

Children's Pieces. G. 2. F. 

Mendelssohn 36 

Mr. L. R. Goering has arranged a 
number of choice classical selections 
ibr the violin or flute, and piano, ^e 



entire series forms a charming addi- 
tion to the home musical library. The 
above, which is the third number in 
the series, is from the well-known 
Opus 72. 

Vocal. 

Jugendy Schbne Eosenzeit. 
(^Spring-time of Youth.) A. 4. 
(EtoA). Mendelssohn . . .36 
The perfection of beauty in music 
and words : the one makes one long 
to possess a pure high tenor or so- 
prano ; the other, in its description of 
the beloved one, leaves the echo of its 
burden in the heart and on the lips. 
Konnt ich HerzHehcJienf stets bei 
dir sein I 

Finklein und Bauerlein. (The 
Sparrow and th^ Thresher.') C. 

4 Taubert 40 

A charming playful song of child- 
life, — a pretty dialogue between the 
sparrow and the farmer thrashing in 
the barn-floor, with its tik, tik, tak I 
and its quaint endearing German 
diminutives, Finklein^ Bauerlein, 
Scheuerlein. To know how fasci- 
nating and piquant the song can 
be, one should hear Clara Doria sing 
it as she gave it at the last Harvard 
Concert, with Mr. Dresel's accompani- 
ment 

Oliver Ditson & Co., 277 Wash- 
ington Street. 
Flower-Song. F. 3. Gustav 

Lange 60 

Already popular, as played by the 

126 



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Musical Bevtetv. 



Beethoven Quintette Club. The 
pretty Blumenlied is well worthy 
buying and playing. The theme is 
pleasing, and gracefully treated in 
arpeggios. The octave variation is 
vigorous, but never heavy. Played 
with taste and expression, quite sure 
to please. 
Will o' the Wisp. D. 4 A. 

Jensen 40 

One of the most fascinating Irr- 
licht caprices we have. It is a re- 
print from the " Wanderbilder." Not 
difficult to read in slow time : its exe- 
cution becomes quite difficult in com- 
bining motto vivace e sotto voce. 
Berceuse, F. 5. Joachim 

Raff 50 

Properly speaking, the Cradle-song 
is a composition by Ch. GU)imod ; but 
Raff's transcription is so much more 
than the original, that it describes 
the piece more truly to affix Raff*s 
name. The runs, arpeggios, and 
double thirds require the greatest 
nicety and lightness in execution, as 
well as velocity. Raff is one of the 
new school. The enjoyment we have 
already received from his symphony, 
and a few piano compositions that have 
reached us, create a strong desire for 
more. 

Arabesken, 3. Isidor Seiss. $1.00 
A series of eight absolutely good 
short pieces, in different keys, and 
with the following titles : Introduc- 
tion," " Ballad," Romance," « Inter- 
lude," "Making the Wreath," Ear- 
nest Life," "Epilogue," "Consola- 
tion." Each separately twenty-five 
cents. It is desirable to have the 
entire series from the intrinsic merit 
of each number, besides the advantage 
fix)m an economical point of view. 

Vocal. 

Dream Visions. F. 4. Silas 
G.Pratt 40 



We give the author's name as 
printed on the titlepage, feeling sure 
that Mr. Silas G. Pratt must regret 
as much as we do the mistake by 
which his name takes the place of 
Robert Schumann. Possibly Mr. 
Pratt may be the author of the words 
which we are advised should be sung 
with much expression and rapturous 
enthusiasm : in this case we suggest 
the removal of his name to the left- 
hand side, and the insertion of R. Schu- 
mann on the right. The transfer of 
the Traumerei bodily from the Kin- 
derscenen was quite bold enough ; but 
the addition of a violin obligato ac- 
companiment, to be played with mutes 
ppp, suggests Thomas's orchestra, 
and its fine-drawn pianism in the 
favorite concert-piece, too distinctly 
to think of .the appropriation in any 
other light than that of ad unfortu- 
nate mistake. A fine picture of Miss 
Graziella Ridgway adorns the title- 
page. Would that America possessed 
a genius capable of the entire crea- 
tion! Accepting it, however, as a 
gift from across the water, we renew 
our old enthusiasm for both melody 
and harmony, and desire to hear it 
well sung by a sweet-toned soprano. 
Farewell. (E to Afr). 3. A. E. 

Warren 30 

A simple song reiterating in vari- 
ous forms the pain of parting, which 
only " those can know who say fere- 
well." Accompaniment simple. 

Sleep on) and Dream of Me. 
(E to A). 3. Louisa Gray. .30 
Commonplace in word and setting. 

Unobjectionable^ enough, but without 

special merit of any sort. 

Bright Hopes. G. (D to E). 

2. H. P. Danks 30 

The sentiment inculcated is ad- 
mirable. Words by Josephine Pol- 
lard. 



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Musical Review. 



127 



" Hope shoald nerer die, 

Though the heart be wearj, 
Thoogb the days seem long, 
And the way be dreary." 
The prescription is good ; but who 
shall famish the medicine ? 
Meeting, E^ (E»> to B»>). 3. . 

H. Millard 50 

A companion song to " Parting/' by 
the same author. Mr. Millard's song^ 
ai6 always musical^ with a pathos of 
their own which is apt to suggest 
strong family likeness. Any one 
simg by itself would please ; though a 
succession might bring satiety. This^ 
one, dedicated to Mademoiselle Louise 
Liebharty is quite good. Suitable for 
a high soprano or tenor ; also possible 
for a mezzo-soprano by omitting the 
small notes. 
Ee giveth his Beloved Sleep, D. 

(EtoD). 3. Franz Abt . .30 
Dream of Angels^ Little One. "Sfi 
(BbtoEb). 2. Franz Abt .30 
Two excellent songs for a contralto 
or low mezzo-soprano voice. Accom- 
paniment simple. The second one 
especially charming. Words by Geo. 
Cooper. 

When thoiCU meet thy Love again. 
E» (A»> to Db). 3. J. Con- 

cone 30 

A beautiful contralto song. The ori- 
ginal is to be found in the first vol- 
ume of Forty Songs for a contralto 
roice, Opus 17, No. 24. The studies 
were always favorites from the musi- 
cal, rhythmic flow of their melodies, 
•od the fitness and individuality of 
the accompaniments. 

G. D. EussELL & Co., 126 Tre- 
mont Street. 

Instrumental. 

Serenade, B. 5. Lebert and 

Stark 20 

Mazurka Caprice. 5. D^. 

Lebert and Stark . . . ,75 



Two more selections from the series 
of piano-forte pieces graded for use in 
the Stuttgart Conservatory. These 
are both from the fourth or highest 
grade, and proportionately difficult. 
The " Serenade " is the more musical 
of the two. 

Vocal. 

Open wide the Golden Door, 
F. (C to D). 1. G. Dana . .40 
We have a right to expect from 
Eussell's publishing-house something 
better than printed pages that are 
simply innocuous, if it is simply 
innocuous to picture heaven as sup- 
plied with "waiting ushers dressed 
in white" ready to assist decrepit 
women " with staffs of light " for 
walking-canes. 

A Shadow. A> (G to G). 4. 
Madame E. Eudersdorff . . .60 
Much mor^ attractive than " Little 
Baby's gone to Sleep," by the same 
author. Words by Proctor. The 
air quite melodic, and well put upon 
the piano. Madame Eudersdorff has 
many claims to her title as artiste. 

Apollo. A collection of part-songs 
for male voices, with English words. 
By Charles J. Sprague. A series of 
seven small pamphlets, each, with 
one exception, containing one part- 
song. 

1. Hymn to Music. Lachner . .50 

2. Student^s Song, Liszt . . .75 

3. On the Rhine, Kucken . . .75 

4. Rhine Wine Song, Franz . .50 

5. The Woods, E. Enter . . .70 

6. The Sparrotv's Tuntter, T. 
Otto 70 

6. Swan Song, H. Truhn . .70 

7. Light. Liszt 70 

The title has been chosen as a 

popular one, without implying that 
the selection was' made especially for 
the use of the popular Apollo Club. 
Most of the songs, however, have 



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128 



Musical Review. 



already been given by the Apollos at 
the public concerts or the private 
rehearsals. No. 1 was particularly 
attractive in the broad, effective style 
for which, under Mr. Lang's skilful 
leadership, the club has become dis- 
tinguished. The " Swan Song " the 
least agreeable in its voice-setting, 
tliough the harmony is fine. " The 
Sparrow's Twitter," in the same num- 
ber, is a delicious bit of merry fun, as 
all who heard the Apollos at their 
last concert of the season will admit. 
No. 7, by Liszt, has not yet been sung. 
The English versions to all are^ of 
course^ admirable. 

White, Smith, & Perry, 296 
Washington Street, Boston. 
ShephercTs Evening Song. F. 
3. Ch. D. Blake. ... .60 
Un morceau brillante arranged as 
a solo ; also for four hands. An intro- 
duction precedes the song, which is 
pretty without being very original. A 
nice little echo, with neat little runs, 
and a sprinkling of arpeggios. Makes 
a graceful, pleasing, and not difficult 
piece. 

Herald of Spring. A. 3. E. L. 

Gumey 40 

This is called a caprice joyeuscj 
supposed to be suggestive of spring. 
A good deal of preluding fails to sug- 
gest any thing satisfactory. We are 
afraid we might not recognize spring 
wuhout any other harbinger ; but the 
season has been unpropitious, it is 
true. 

Joyous Spring. F. 3. G. D. 
Wilson 60 



Morceau also for the piano. We 
are inclined to like Wilson, after all ; 
though our classical friends are sure 
to smile wisely and pityingly. It is 
true all his compositions are evidently 
by the author of the "Shepherd 
B(^ ; *' but who doesn't like that the 
first time ? A good many continue to 
like it, though it is played ad nauseam. 
There is always the same sort of sim- 
ple theme, the same echo suggestion, 
the same smooth-running arpeggios 
and runs ; but there is a great deal of 
worse music that is only a noise. 
Ths Night Birds whisper Soft and 
Light. 3. C. A. White . .60 
A quartette for mixed voices. 
Pleasing and simple. Quite a lover- 
like and romantic titlepage. Those in 
the boat rowing seem to be having a 
better time than the girl on the steps. 

My Home beyond the Tide. A^. 

2. S. N. Tucker 40 

Song and chorus. More realistic 
on the outside than in the inside. 
We suppose some one likes impossi- 
ble pictures of heavenly mansions 
with marble steps, china vases hold- 
ing gardener's bouquets, women with 
chignons, crowns, and double skirts, 
ofiering evergreen wreaths to the in- 
nocents who have just been ferried 
over by a substantial angel with 
wings spread swan-fashion in lieu of 
sails; while a well-tattooed marine 
with a boat-hook contemplates alter- 
nately the picture, the moon, a small 
ship, and a large frigate (in danger- 
ous proximity to the rocks, we should 
say). But we are not nautical, emo- 
tional, or fanciful enough to appreciate, 
much less criticise, such a work of art. 



[Note to Mdsical People. — Any piece of mario named in the above Marie Beriew wUl be mailed 
to any addreea, free of poatage both toayt, on receipt ol the retail price.] 



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College Directory. 



COLLEGE DIRECTORY. 



MAINE. 

Bates Collbob (Lewiston). Foanded 
1863. President, Oreo B. Cheney. 

Faculty and other college officers : John 
FulloQton, EccUtiastical History and Pastoral 
'I\eoiogy; John Jay Batler, New Testament 
Literature and Homiletics ; JouAthan T. Stan- 
ton, Greek attd Latin; Benjamin F. HayeSi 
UeMai and Moral Philosopktf, and New Testa- 
mtiU L'teralure ; Richard C. Stanley, Chemistry 
and Geology ; Thomas L. Angell, Modern Lan- 
fKvja aiui Mathematics; Charles Howard 
Maloom, History ; James Albert Howe, Syste- 
matic Theology; Goor^e C. Chase, Rhetoric and 
English Liieratire; Thomas Uili Bich, Hebrew; 
Clarence A. Bickford, Tutor. 

Nomberof students, 115. 



BowDoisr Collbob (Brunswick). Found- 
ed 1802. President, Joshua Lawrence Cham- 
berliin. 

Faculty : Alpheus Spring Packard, Natural 
OMd Reveded Theology, also Librarian ; John 
ApplefeoD, Medical Jitrispradence ; Ephraim 
Cbsmberlain Cummin;!^, Mental and Moral 
Philosophy; Jotham Bradbury Sewall, Ancient 
Langmges and Literature ; Alonzo B. Palmer, 
Palhnlogy and Therapeutics ; William Warren 
Greene, Surgery ; John Smith Sewall, RhetoriCf 
Oratory, and English Literature; Edward W. 
Jenfa, (hstetrics and Diseases of Women; 
George Leonard Vosc, CivU Engineering; 
Stephen Jewect Young, Modem Languages; 
CjTus Fo:jj» Bracket!, Chemistry and Physics ; 
Alfred Mitchell, Pat/tofogy and Therapeutics; 
George Lincoln Goodale, Natural Science, Ap- 
flied Chemistry y and Materia Medica ; William 
^^Klgery Thomas, Scandinavian Languages 
Olid Sioediah ; Alpheus Spring Packard, jun., 
Efttomology ; Joseph P. Sanger, Military Science 
<ovl Tactics; Thomas D wight, Anatomy; 
Charles Greene Rockwood, jun., McUhematics ; 
Edward Sylvester Morse, Comparative Anato* 
»y ond Zo5logy ; Robert Amory, Physiology ; 
Henry Leland Chapman, Latin; Frederic 
Henry Gerrish, Materia Medica; John Norris 
HcClintock, Topographkxd Engineering and 
(J. S, Coast-Survey Metliods; Robert Lawrence 
Packard, Applied Chemistry and French ; James 
B. Taylor, Elocution and Oratory; Charles 
Henry Moore, £<i/m ; Dudley Allen Sargent, 
i>ireBtor of tM Gymnasium; Fred Eugene 



Whitney, Assistant Librarian; Hampton E. 
Hill» Demonstrator in Anatomy. 
Number of students, 266. 

CoLBT Uw 1VBR8ITY (WateTviUe). Found 
ed 1820. President, James T. (Hiaroplin; 
also Professor of Intellectual and Moral Philoso- 
phy, 

Faculty: Samuel K. Smith, Rhetoric; 
Charles E. Hamlin, Chemistry and Natural 
History; Moses Lyford, Mathematics and 
Natural Philosophy ; John B. Foster, Greek and 
Latin ; Edward W. Hall, Modern Languages ; 
Julian B. Taylor, Tutor. 

Number of students, 55. 

Maine Statb Collboe of Aosiculturb 

AND Mechanic Arts (Orono). Founded . 

President, Charles F. Allen; also Professor 
of English Literature, Mental and Moral Science. 

Faculty: Merrit C. Fernald, Mathematics 
and Physics; Robert L. Packard, Chemistiy^ 
Fren<A, and German ; William A Pike, Civd 
Engineering; Charles H. Fernald, Natural 
History ; Joseph R. Farrington, Farm Super- 
intendent; X. A. Willard, Dairy Farming; 
James J. H. Gregory, Market Farming and 
Gaidening ; James Deane, Military Instructor; 
John Perley, Book-Keeping and Commercial 
Forms. 

Number of students, 71. 

NEW HAMPSHIRE. 

Dartmouth Collbob (Hanover). Found- 
ed 1769. President,. Asa Dodge Smith. 

Faculty and other college officers : Joel T&t- 
YeVfLaw; Dixi Crosby (Emeritus), 5ur^«ry/ 
Benjamin Labaree, Moral Philosophy and In- 
ternational Law ; VAward Elisha Phelps, Pa- 
thology; Alpheus Crosby (Emeritus), 6fre«A;; 
Oliver Payson Hubbard, Chemistry and Phar- 
macy ; Daniel James Noyes, Intellectual Phi- 
losophy and Political Economy; Edwin David 
Sanborn, Oratory, Belles-Lettres, and Rhetoric, 
also Librarian ; John Lord, History ; Edmund 
Randolph Peaslec, Obstetrics and Physiology; 
Henry Elijah Parker, Latin and Roman His- 
tory; Jean Qodeby, French; Mark Bailey, 
Elocution; John Ordronaux, Medical Juris- 
prudence; Elihu Thayer Quimby, Mathematics, 
Civil Engineering, and Mechanics; Carlton 
Pennington Frost, Medicine and Physiology; 
Charles Augustas Young, Natural Philosophy 



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College Diredory. 



*and Astronomy; Alpheas Bcnning Croshjr, 
Sttr^rtff Charles Henry Hitchcocki Geology, 
Mineralogy f and Natural History ; Edward Rush 
Ruggles, Modern Languages and English Lit- 
erature; Lyman Bartlett How, Anatomy and 
Physiology; Henry Martyn Field, Materia 
Medica and Tlterapeutics ; Eklward Swift Dun- 
ster, Obstetrics; John Carroll Proctor, Greek 
Language, Literature, and History; Ezekiel 
Webster Dimond, General and Agricultural 
Chemistry; Robert Fletcher, Civil Engineering 
and Stereolomy; Charles Franklin Emerson, 
Natural 'Philosophy and Mathematics; John 
King Lord, Latin and Rhetoric ; Frank Asbury 
Sherman, Mathematics and Graphics; Francis 
Brown, Greek ; Benjamin Thomas Blanpied, 
Chemistry and Naiurai History ; Solon Rodney 
Towne, Gymnastics; Daniel Gile Brookway, 
Demonstrator tn AnatoiAy ; Leonard Melville 
French, Assistant DemonsttxUor ; Edward Pay- 
son Stimson, Chemistry; George Bates Nich- 
ols Tower, Civil Engineering, 
Number of students, 408 

VERMONT. 

MiDDLBBuar CoLLBOB (Middlebury). 
Founded 1797. President, Harvey D. Kitchel, 
also Professor of Political Economy and' Inter- 
national Law, 

Faculty and other college officers : William 
H. Parker, Mathematics and Natural Philoso- 
phy; Edwin H. Higley, Greek and German; 
Solon Albee, Latin ; George A. Webber, Intel- 
lectual and Moral Philosophy ; Henry M. Seely, 
Chemistry and Natural History; Ezra Brain- 
ard. Rhetoric, English Literature, and filocu- 
tion. 

Number of students, 58. 

Ukitbbsitt of Vbemoiit and Statb 
Agricultural Collbob (Burlington). 
Founded 1791. President, Matthew Henry 
Buckham. 

Faculty: Samuel White Thayer (Emeri- 
tus), ^na^omy ; Walter Carpenter, Theory and 
Practice of Medicine, and Materia Medica; 
McKendree Petty, Mathematics; John Or- 
dronaux, Physiology, Pathology, and Medical 
Jwrispntdence ; Peter Collier, Chemistry, Min- 
eralogy, and Metallurgy ; Henry Williamson 
Haynes, Greek, also Librarian; Henry Au- 
gustus Pearson Torroy, Intellectual and Moral 
Philosophy ; Volney Giles Barbour, Civil En- 
gineering ; George Henry Perkins, ZoOlogy, 
Botany, and Geology ; John Ellsworth Good- 
rich, Rhetoric, English Literature, and Latin ; 
William Darling, Anatomy ; Benjamin How- 



ard, Obstetrics, and Diseases of Women and 
Children; Louis Pollens, Modern Languages; 
John Austin Collier, Assistant in Chemistry; 
Peter Collier, Curator of Museum. 

Number of students (men and women), 
125. 

MASSACHUSETTS. 

AuBBBST CoLLBGB (AmhcTst). Founded 
1821. President, William A. Steanis; also 
Professor of Biblical History and Interpretation. 

Faculty: Ebenezer S. Snell, Mathematics 
and Natural Philosophy; Charles U. Shepanl, 
Natural History; William S. Tyler, Greek; 
Julius H. Seelye, Mental and Moral Philoso- 
phy; Edward P. Crowell, Latin; Edward 
Tuckerman, Botany and History; Edward 
Hitchcock, Hygiene and Physical Education; 
William L. Montague, French, Italian, and 
Spanish, and Librarian ; Richard H. Mather, 
Greek and German ; L. Clark Seelye, Rhetoric, 
Oratory, and English Literature ; William C. 
Esty, Mathematics and Astronomy ; Elijah P. 
Harris, Chemistry; Benjamin K. Emerson, 
Geology and Zoology ; Enoch F. Burr, 6cientijic 
Evidences of Religion ; Theodore W. Dwight, 
Constitutional Law ; John W. Churchill, Elo- 
cution; Henry B. Richardson, Greek and 
Latin ; Robert M. Woods, English and Mathe- 
matics, 

Number of students, 261. 

BosTOH Collbob (Boston). Founded 
1863. President, Robert Fulton; also Pre- 
fect of Schools, Catechist. 

Officers and teachers : John J. Murphy, 
Poetry, Grammar, Mathematics, French, Pre- 
fect of Discipline ; Henry J. Shandelle, Grtm- 
mar, Algebra, French; Michael A. Brutoo, 
Grammar, Arithmetic, French; Lawrence J. 
O'Toole, Rudiments, Arithmetic; Thomas 
McLaughlin, Rudiments, Arithmetic, Book- 
keeping; Alphonsus Charlier, French; Her- 
man P. Chelius, Organist; George Mollins, 
Drill-Master, 

Number of students, 139. 

BosTOH Untyersitt (Boston). Founded 
1869. Deans of faculties : George S. Hillard, 
Law; Eben Tourj^e, Music; William' F. 
Warren, Theology, 

Officers of instruction and government; 
Charles N. Allen, Violin; Santiago Cancio 
Bello, Spanish; Edmund H. Bennett, Con- 
tracts ; Melville M. Bigelow, Bills and Notes, 
Insurance Estoppel; Dudley Buck, Organ; 
Benjamin F. Cocker, Pantheism; Charles 



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K Cron, AeouiticB ; D wight Foster, Equity; 
Wulf Fries, Vioionctllo ; N. St. John Green, 
Torts and Crimet, and Kent's Commentaries; 
George S. Hillard, Contracts and Profes- 
stoaal Ethics; Charles Koppitz, Orchestra- 
tMH; Jacob F. Krauss, Oriental Languages; 
James E. Latimer, Historical Theology; 
Ernest H. Leseraan, German; Thomas F. 
Leonard, Efocutiim ; John W. Lindsay, Ez- 
egelical Theology; Francis J. Lippitt, Part- 
\ wership and Agency; Otia P. Lord, Plead- 

^ iagt and Practice; Albert C. Maggi, Ital- 
ion; John O'Neil, Singing, jEsUmtics, and 
Physiology of the Voice ; John Ordronaux, 
Medical Jurisprudence; Henry W. Painfe, 
Real Property; John Knowles Paine, Cow- 
potition, Musical History, and Esthetics ; James 
C. D. Parker, Piano-forU; David Patten 
(Ciaeriuu), Practical Theology, also Libra" 
rioM ; Edward L. Pierce, Bailments and Cor^ 
porations; Robert C. Pitman, Moot Courts; 
John Morrison Reid, Lecturer on Missions; 
Charles T. Russell, Evidence and Admiralty ; 
Beojarain F. Thomas, Wills and Administra- 
tions; Eben Toaij^, Sacred Music; Luther 
T. Townsend, Practical Th^ogy ; Stephen 
* H. Tjnjj, Lecturer on Pastoral Topics ; William 
F. W«men, Systematic Theology ; Francis Whar- 
ton, CofiJUct of Laws ; Isaac W. Wiley, Lec- 
turer on the Christian Ministry ; Theodore D. 
Woolsey, Lecturer on Polytheism; Carl Zer- 
raho, Oratorio, and Orchestral Conductor. 
Nomberof students, 177. 

CoLL'fcQB OF THE HoLT Cross (Wor- 
cester). (Report of 1872). Founded 1843. 
pTwident, Antony F. Ciampi. 

Faculty and other college officers : Albert 
J. Peters, French ; L. H. Gache, Logic, Meta- 
physics, and Ethics; James Major, Natip^ 
Pk*losf»phy, Chemistry, and Mathematics; 
h Charks H. Fulmer, Rhetoric; John J. Mur- 
i phr, Poetry: Jeremiah McCarthy, Humani- 

ties and Mathematics ; Stephen E. Folan, //u- 
mudties and Mathematics; Thomas F. Mc- 
Laughlin, Humam'ties and Arithmetic ; Thom- 
as M. Reynolds, Latin, Greek, and Arithmetic; 
P. J. Murphy, Latin, Greek, and Arithmetic ; 
(korj:fi P. Hurt, Music ; Peter B. Mignault, 
Physician, 

Nnmberof students, 140. 

Habtabo College (Cambridge). Fonnd- 
ed, 1636. President, Charles W. Kliot. 

Officers of instruction and government: 
Emory Washburn, Law; Frederick Henry 
Hedge, German ; John Bernard Swett Jnck- 
ion. Morbid Anatomy, and Curator of the Ana- 
itmical Museum ; John Langdon Sibley, Li- 



brarian; Andrew Preston Peabody {Preacher 
to the University), Christian Morals; Oliver 
Stearns, Theology ; Louis Agassiz, ZoUlogy and 
Geology ; OVwer Wendell Holmes, Anatomy; 
Benjamin Peirce, ^s^-onom^ a»(/ Mathematics ; 
Asa Gray, Natural History ; Thomas Motley, 
Farming; George Cheyno Shattuck, Theory 
and Practice of Physic; Francis Bowcn, 
Natural Religion, Moral Philosophy, and Civil 
Polity; Joseph Lovering, Mathematics and 
Natural Philosophy; Evangelinus Apostolides 
Sophocles, Greek; Henry Warren ToiTey, 
Ancient and Modem History; Jcflfries Wyman, 
Anatomy; Henry Jacob Bigelow, Surgeiy; 
George Derby, Hygiene ; John Eugene Tyler, 
Mental Diseases; Henry Lawrence Eusiis, 
Engineering; James Russell Lowell, French, 
Spanish, and Belles- Lettres ; Josiah Dwight 
Whitney, Geology; Ezra Abbot, New Tes- 
tament Criticism and Interpretation; Charles 
Edward Buckingham, Obstetrics and Medical 
Jurisprudence; Hermann August Hagen, 
Entomology; Francis Minot, Medicine, and 
Diseases of Women and Children ; Wolcott 
Qibbs, Application of Science to the Useful Arts; 
Daniel Denison Slade, Applied Zodlogy; 
John Phillips Reynolds, Obstetrics; Francis 
James Child, Rhetoric and Oratory; Calvin 
Ellis, Clinical Medicine; George Martin Lane, 
Latin; Joseph Win lock (Director of tlie Ob- 
servatory) Astronomy and Geodesy; Henry 
Wiilard Williams, Ophthalmology; Thomas 
Henderson Chandler, Dentistry ; Josiah Par- 
sons Cooke, Chemistry and Mineralogy ; Ed- 
ward James 'Young, Hebrew, Oriental Lan- 
guages, and Biblical Literature; Charles Frank- 
lin Dunbar, Political Economy ; Charles Car- 
roll Everett, Theology ; John Nelson Borland, 
Clinical Medicine; William Wat«on Goodwin, 
Greek Literature ; Christopher Columbus Lang- 
dell, Law; Ferdinand Bocher, Mot/em Zxju- 
yu(i</e8; David Williams Checvor, Clinical Sur- 
gery ; Ephraim Whitman Gumey, Histoty; 
Adams Sherman Hill, Rhetoric ; James Mills 
Peirce, Mathematics ; James Clarke White, Der- 
matology; Francis Humphreys Storer, Agri- 
cultural Chemistry; James Bradstri'ct Groe- 
nongh, Latin ; Bennett Hubbard Nash, Ital- 
ian and Spanish; Arthur Soarlc, Assistant 
in the Observatory ; George Tufton Moffatt, 
Operative Dentistry; John Knowles Paine, 
Music ; Henry Adams, History; William 
Augustus Rogers, Assistant in the Observa- 
tory; Francis G. Sanborn, Entomology; 
Robert Thaxter Edes, Materia Medica ; Wil- 
liam Everett, Latin ; Charles Sanders Peirce, 
Assistant in the Observatory; Charles Joyco 
White, Mathematics; Raphael Pumpelly, 



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Mining; Thomas Barnes Hitchcock, Dental 
Pathology and Therapeutics; Henry Pick- 
ering Bo wdi tch, P%5/o/o^y; William Henry 
Pence, Mining; Charles Bornham Porter, De- 
monstrator of Anatomy ; Charles Spragne Sar- 
gent, Hortiatltwe; John Fidke, Assistant 
Librarian ; Frederic Irving Knight, Ausculta- 
tiony Percussion^ and Laryngoscopy; Clement 
Lawrence Smith, />»;*»/ John Collins War- 
ren, Surgery; Nathaniel Southgate Shaler, 
Paleontology; Luther Dimmick Shepard, Op- 
erative Dentistry; Nathaniel Ware Hawes, Op- 
erative Dentistry; Beginald Heber Fiu, Pa- 
thological Anatomy; Geoi^ Herbert Palmer, 
Philosophy ; Edwin Pliny Seaver, Matheihat^ 
ics; Frank Eustace Anderson, Greek; George 
Anthony Hill, Physics and Registrar; John 
Trowbridge, Physics ; Charles Loring Jackson, 
Chemistry; Edward Stickney Wood, Chemis- 
try; Pierre Jalicn Boris, French; Josiah Calef 
Bartlctt, Mathematics ; Arthur Irring Fiske, 
Greek; Henry Barker Hill, Chemistry; Henry 
Howland, German; James Jefferson Myers, 
Proctor ; Charles Herbert Moore, Free Hand 
Drawing and Water Co'ors; Geoi^ Theodore 
Dippold, German; William Hunter Orcutt, 
Joseph Bangs Warner, Proctors ; Charles Ed- 
ward Munroe, Chemistry; Arthur Lord 
Huntington, Henry Parkraan, William Wil- 
lard Boyd, Samuel Brearley, Henry Nathan 
Wheeler, Albert Lamb Lincoln, Edward Ste- 
rens Sheldon, John Freeman Tufts, Mo9«s 
Peikins White, Proctors; Edward William 
Hooper, Steward; Jiimes Winthrop Harris, 
Secretary ; Amory Thompson Gibbs, Assistant 
Secretary; James Jennison, Librarian of the 
Divinity School; John Hiines Arnold, Libra- 
rian of the Law Sdujol; Joseph Herbert Sen- 
ter. Assistant in the General Library; John 
Freeman Brown, Assistant in the Physical Lab- 
oratory; Alfred Withington Field, AssisUint 
in the Cltemical Laboratory; William Elder, 
• Assistant in the Cltemical Ijiboratory ; Marcello 
Hutchinson, Assistant in the Laboratory of Agri- 
cultural Chemistry; Arthur Gorham Davis, 
Treasurer's Bookkeeper; Frt-deric William Lis- 
ter, Superintendent of the Gymnasium. 

MASSACHUSBTTa AOSICULTUBAX. OoL- 

LEGB (Amherst). Founded 1863. Preside t, 
Williiun S. Clark ; also Professor of Botany 
and Horticulture, 

Faculty: Levi Stockbridge, Agriculture; 
Henry II. Goodell, Modern Languages; 
Charles A. Goessmann, Chemistry; Henry W. 
Parker, Menial, Moral , and Social Science; 
Sclim H. Peabody, Physics and Civil Engineer- 
ing; Henry James Clark, Veterinary Science; 



A. H. Merrill, Military Science and Tactics; 
Robert M. Woods, Rhetoric and Elocution; 
Charles L. Flint, Dairy Farming; Joseph 
White, Civil Polity; A. S. Packard, jun., Use- 
ful and Injunous Insects ; Richard H. Mather, 
Sculpture and German Literature; Alonio 
Bradley, Honey Bee ; M. Fayette Dickinson, 
jun.. Rural Law ; George S. Cheney, Vocal 
Music; Willard C. Ware, Gardener; John C. 
Dillon, Farm Superintendent, 
Number of students, 17L 

Massachusetts Institute of Tech- 
KOLOOT (Boston). Founded 1861. Presi- 
dent. John D. Runkle; also Professor of 
Mathematics and Mechanics, 

Officers of instruction : William Watson, 
Mechanical Engineering; John B. Henck, 
Civil and Topographical Engineering ; William 
R. Ware, Architecture; William P. Atkinson, 
English and History; George A. Osborne, 
Mathematics, Astronomy, and Navigation ; 
Alfred P. Rockwell, Mining Engineering ; Ed- 
ward C. Pickering, Physics; Samuel Knee- 
land, ZoSlofjy and Physiology ; John M. Ord- 
way. Metallurgy and Industrial Chemistry; 
James M. Crafts, Analytical and Organic 
Chemistry; Robert H. Richards, Mineralogy 
and Assaying; Thomas Steny Hunt, Geology; 
George H. Ilowison, fjogic and the Philoeophy 
of Sience; S. Edward Warren, Descriptive 
Geometry, Stereotomy, and Drawing; William 
Ripley Nichols, General Chemistry; Henry 
L. Whiting, Topography; Henry Mitchell, 
Physical Hydrography ; Alpheus Hyatt, Poie- 
ontology; Lewis B. Monroe, Vocal Culture 
and Elocution; William H. Niles, Physical 
Geology and Geogi-aphy ; Charles R. Cross, 
Physics; Gaetano Lanza, Mathematics and 
Mechanics; Eme8t Schubert, Free-Uand and 
Machine Drawing ; Eugene Letang, Architec- 
ture; John A. Whipple, Photography; Wil- 
liam E. Hoyt, Civil Engineering and Drawing; 
Jules L^vy, French, Spanish, and Italian ; E, 
C. F. Krauss, German; Charles Kastner, 
Practical Design ; Edward K. Clark, Mechan- 
ical Drawing; Randal ^Vhittier, MathemcUics; 
James M. Hodge, General Chemistry and Qual- 
itative Analysis; Clarence S. Wanl, Qttantit- 
ative Analysis ; Hobart Moore, Military Tac- 
tics ; Darwin C. Fogg, Janitor. 

Number of students^ 356. 

Mount Hotlokb Female Seminary 
(South Hadley). Founded 1836. Principal, 
Miss Julia E. Ward. 

Teachers : Miss Elizabeth Blanchard, Mist 
Anna C. Edwards, Associate Principals : Miss 
Lydia W. Shattuck, Mist Harriet E. Sessioni^ 



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Mis8 Hannah Noble, Miss Helen P. Bowers, 
Miss Lacf J. Holmes, Miss Snsan M. Clarj, 
Miss Frances M. Hazen, Miss Elizabeth B. 
Prentiss, Miss Marj C. Townsend, Miss Sa- 
rah L. Melvin, Miss Elizabeth M. Bard well, 
Miss Louise F. Cowlcs, Miss Sosan Bowen, 
Miss Sarah Bowen, Miss Anna M. Wells, 
Mia Adaline E. Green, Miss Elizabeth P. 
Hod;:don, Miss Martha E. E. Bradford, Miss 
Cornelia M. Clapp, Miss Caroline L. White, 
. Mi^ M. Ella Spooner, Emma H. Callender, 
r M.D., Pkjfslcian, and Teacher of Physiology ; 
Miss Mary O. Nutting, Librarian ; Mile. Car- 
oliae de Man passant, French and German; 
MiM Emma A. Ide, Vocal Music, 
Number of students, 271. 

New CauacH Thbolooioal School 
(Waltham, Mass). Recently established. 
President, Thomas Worcester ; also Professor 
^Thtolcgy/ 

Fscolty and office|^ : T. O. Paine, Hebrew, 
Gntky and Latin ; L. B. Morrow, Elocution 
mid CiiUare of dm Voice, 

Number of students, 7. 

* 

Tern CoLLEOB (Medford). Founded 
1854. President, Alonzo A. Miner ; also Pro- 
ftmr of Moral Philosophy and Political 
Ecmomy. 

Facaltj and other officers : Thomas J. 
Sawjer, Christian Theology /John P. Marshall, 
Chem'ttry, Mineralogy, and Geology; Jerome 
Schneider, Greek; Ueraan A. Dearborn, 
Lodin; Benjamin G. Brown, Mathematics; 
Willtara R. Shipman, Rhetoric, Logic, and 
Englisk Literature, also Librarian ; Moses T. 
Brown, Elocution ; Charles E. Fay, Modem 
La^uages ; ChtixXcs D. Bray, Civil and Me- 
damcal Engineering; Charles H. Leonard, 
^ Homiktics and Pastoral Theology; William G. 
Tousey, Psychology and Natural Theology; 
Silas W. Sutton, Mathematics; John W. 
Adams, Vocal Music, 

Lecturers in Divinity School,: Thomas B. 
Thayer. Evidences of Christianity; A. St. 
John Chambrtf, Ecclesiastical History ; E C. 
BoUes, Relations of Science to Christianity; E. 
H. Chapen, Study ofLanguagt. 

Number of students, 80. 

Williams College (Williamstown). 
Founded 1793. President, Paul Ansel Chad- 
boome. Ex-President, Mark Hopkins; also 
Professor of Theology and of Moral and Intel- 
kdual Philosophy. 

Faculty and other collep:e officers: 

^— , Astnmomy ; Nathaniel Herrick Griffin, 



Latin, also Librarian ;J6hnTAt]ock (Emcritns), 
Mathematics ; John Bascom, Rhetoric ; Arthnr 
Latham Perry, History and Political Economy ; 
Charles Franklin Gilson, Modem Languages; 
Sanborn Tenney, Natural History; Cyrus 
Morris Dodd, Mathematics; Orlando Mar- 
cellis Femald, Greek ; Jr& Remsen, Physics 
and Chemistry; Henry Wilson Smith, Physi- 
cal Training. 
Number of students, 119. 

WoROBSTBR County Free Institute 
OF Industrial Sgienoe (Worces^r). 
Founded 1865. Principal, Charles O. 
Thompson ; also Professor of Chemistry. 

Facnlty: George I. Alden, Mechanics; 
George E. Gladwin, Drawing; John E. Sin- 
clair, Mathetnatics and Cioil Engineering ; 
Alonzo S. Kimball, Physics; Edward P. 
Smith, Modern Languages; Thomas E. N. 
Eaton, J/o/Aemo/tcs; Milton P. Higgins, «Sii- 
perintendent of Machine Shop. 

Number of studenu, 93. 

RHODE ISLAND. 

Brown Uniybrsity (Providence). Found- 
ed 1764. President, E. G. Robinson ; also 
Professor of Moral and Intellectual Philosophy. 

Facnlty and other college officers : John 
L. Lincoln, Latin and German ; Samuel S. 
Greene, Natural Philosophy and Astronomy; 
Albert Harkness, Greek; J. Lewis Dinian, 
History and Political Economy ; Benjamin F. 
Clarke, Mathematics and Civil Engineering; 
John H. Appleton, Chemistry; T. Whiting 
Bancroft, Rhetoric, English Literature, and Elo- 
cution; Eli W. Blake, Physics; William C. 
VoltLtid, Latin and Greek; J. W. P. Jenks, 
Director of Museum of Natural History, Lectur- 
er on Agriculture; Charles H. Gates, French; 
Charles L. Nichols, Analytical Chemistry; 
Reuben A. Guild, Librarian ; William Doug- 
las, Register, 

Number of students, 204. 

CONNECTICUT. 

Trinity College (Hartford). Founded 
1823. President, Abner Jackson ; also Pro- 
fessor of Ethics and Metaphysics. 

Faculty and other collep:e officers : John 
Brocklesby, Mathematics and Natural Philoso- 
phy; Thomas R. Pynchon, Chemistiy and 
Natural Science; John T. Huntington, Greek; 
Edwin E. Johnson, Rhetoric, and English Lan- 
guage and Literature ; Austin Stickney, Latin ; 
Samuel Hart, Mathematics; George O. Hoi- 



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brooke, Modem Languajes ; John Williams, 
History; Frftncis T. Russell, Oratory; Dun- 
can L. Stewart (emeritus), Greek and Latin; 
Geortre C Shatiuck, Medicine ; William A. 
M. Wainwrij^ht, Anatomy and Physiolfxjy ; 
William D. Shipman, Law; Samuel EJiot, 
Political Science and Constitutional Lfiw ; Wil- 
liam Cleveland Hicks, Civil and Mechanical 
Engi}ieering ; Wootton Wright Hawkes, Eng- 
lish Lanquage and Literature. 
Number of students, 67. 

W^SLETAN University (Middlctown). 
Founded 1831. President, Joseph Cummiuj^s ; 
also Professor of Moral and Litellectual Philos- 
ophy. 

Faculty and other collej^e officers : John John- 
ston, Natural Science ; John M. Van Vleck, 
Mathematics and Astronomy; Calvin S. Har- 
rington, Latin; James C. Van Bonschoteii, 
Greek and Modem Languages ; George Pren- 
tice, Rhetoric, English Literature^ and H^fbreuf ; 
William North Rice, Geology and Natural 
Histoiy; Ralph G. Hibbard, Elocution; Mos^s 
Clark White, Hisloliyjy and Microscope; Caleb 
T. Winchester, Librarian; George Brown 
Goodo, Curator of the Cabinets; Darius Baker, 
Tutor in Latin ; Edgar Moncmia Smith, Tutor 
in Mathematics. 

Number of students, 189. 

Yalb Collbok (New Haren). Foandcd 
1801. President, Noah Porter. 

Faculty and instructors: Leonard Bacon, 
Church Pidity and American Church History ; 
Elias Tjoomis, Natural Philosophu and Astron- 
omy; William A. Norton, Civil Engineeiing ; 
James D. Dana, Gt^ogq and Mineralogy ; 
George K. Day, Hebrew and DiUical Theology ; 
Samuel Harris, Systematic Theology ; Thomas 
A. Thacher, Latin; Benjamin S. Roberts, 
Military Science; Benjamin Silliman, Chemis- 
try ; Chester S. Lyman, Astronomy and Physics ; 
James M. Iloppin. Ilomiletics and Pastoral 
Chanje; Stephen G. Hubbard, Obstetrics; 
William D. Whitney, Sanscrit, Comparative 
Philo'ogy, and Modern Languages ; Moses C. 
White Histology, PatJiology, and Microscopy ; 
Francis Wayland, Mercantile Aafr and Evi- 
dence; George P. Fisher, Ecclesiastical His- 
torh; William P. Trowbridge, Dynamical 
Engineering ; Timothy Dwi;rht, Sacred Litera- 
ture; Charles A. Lindsley, Materia Medica 
and Therafieutics ; Hubert A. Newton, A/a/A«- 
matics ; Geoi^ J. Brush, Mineralogy and Cu- 
rator of M ineralogical Cabinet; Samuel W. John- 
son, Agricultural and Analytical Chemistry; 
William H. Brewer, Agriculture; Francis 
Bacon, Surgery ; Leonard J. Saniord, Aiuitomy 



and Physiology; William C. Robin<?on, Ele- 
mentary and Cnminal Law, and Law of Real 
Property; John F. Weir, Painting and Design ; 
Lewis R. Packard, Greek; Cyrus Northrop, 
lilietoric and English Literature ; Daniel C. 
Eaton, Botany ; Arthur M. Wheeler, Histmy ; 
Addison Van Name, Librarian; J Willard 
Gibbs, Mathematical Physics; Arthur ^V. 
Wright, Cltemistry and Molecular Physics; 
Thomas R. Lounsbur}', English; Oihnicl C. 
Marsh, Paleontology; 1). Cady Eaton, History 
of Alt ; Eugene L. Richards, Matliematirs : 
Francis A. Walker, Political Economy and 
History ; John H. Nicmeyer, Dmwing; Frank- 
lin B. Dexter, Assistant Librarian and Uegis- 
trar; Simeon E. Baldwin, Constitutional and 
Commercial Law, Law of IVills; Oscar I>. 
Allen, Metallurgy; Edward B. Coe, Modern 
Languages; Addison E. Vcmll, Zottfngy ; 
Franklin Carter, German ; William G. Sum- 
ner, Political and Social Science ; Johnson T. 
Plait, Plewling and Equity Jurisprudence ; 
Henry P. Wri;^ht, Latin; James K. Thnchcr, 
Natural Philosophy ; Henry A. Beers, Enr/lish 
Literature ; Edward Heaton, Maihemntt'r^ ; 
Thomas Hooker, Greek; Edward G. Coy, 
Latin ; Henry Ward Beccher, Preachijtff ; 
Mark Bailey. Elocution ; John E. Clark, ^Mat he- 
matics ; Albert S. Wheeler, German; William 
L. Bi*adley, Anatomy; Gustavc J. Stoeckcl, 
Vocal Music ; Richiird M. Bacho, Plane yafJe 
Surveying ; F. R. Honey, Orthogntphic Projec- 
tion; Ahr2t,rt\ M. Shew, Insanity; Daniel H. 
Wells, Civil Engineering; Sitlncy L Smith, 
Zodlogy ; Oscar Harger, Paleontology ; Kd^vard 
S. Breidenhaugh, Chemistry; Charles S. Hast- 
ings, Physics ; Horace Andrews, Surrer/infj ; , 
Daniel H. Pierpont, Surveying ; Thcopliil M. 
Pruddon, Chemistry ; Louis Bail, Drawing. 

NEW YORK. 

AuBURif Theolooigal Sexinart (Aq* 
burn). Founded 1820. 

Taculty : Samuel M. Hopkins, Ecdesiasticql 
History and Church Polity ; Edwin Hall, Chris- 
tian Theology; J. B. Condit, Sacred Hheioric 
and Pastoral Theology; E. A. Huntinf^on, 
Biblical Criticism, €dso LUnrarian; Willie J. 
Beecher, Hebrew. 

Number of students, 47. 

College op the City of New Tobk 
(New-York City). Founded 1866. Prei4- 
dent, Alexander Stewart Webb. 

Faculty and other college officers : Jean 
Roeraer, French; Agustin Jose Morales, 
Spanish Language and Literature; Gerard us 
Bcckman Docharty, Mathematics; Charles 



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Edward AnthoB, Uuionf and Bdles-l^ttm ; 
John Grieff Barton, English Language and 
Utemture; Robert Ogdea Doremus, Chemir 
try and Physics; Hermann JoMph Aloys 
Koerne, Descriptive Geometrif and Drawing; 
Adolph Werner. German; John Christopher 
Driper, Natural History and Physiology ; Al- 
fred George Compton, Meduunes, Attrmwmy, 
and Engineering; George Washington Hant8» 
man, Pkiiosophy; Charles George Herber- 
mann, Lalin ; Jesse Ames Spencer, Greek; 
Benjamin Arad Sheldon, Mathematics; Casi- 
mir Fabr«gou, French ; Jame Godwin, Solo- 
mon Woolf, James Knox, Fitzgerald Tisdall, 
Tutors: James Edward Morrison, History 
and Beiles-UUret ; Charles Roberts, Tutor; 
EmCBt Fiiton, French; Eustace Whipple 
Fisher, English Language and Literature ; Ed- 
wird EUice Bnmet, English Language and 
LUeratare; John Robert Sim, Tutor; Wil- 
liam George McGuckin, Tutor; Robert 
Abbe, Tutor; Charles A. Walworth, Book- 
keeping and Phonography; Hugo R. Hutten, 
German; J. Hampden Dougherty, Charles 
E. Lydecker, Martin Summerbell, Fellows; 
Joieph Edwin Frobisher, Elocution; Asa 
Williams Wilkinson, Assistant in Chemistry; 
John Thomas Cuming, Librarian and Regis- 
trar; Francis A. Reicard, Assistant in Reposi- 
toy; Charles WoUe, Mechanician, 
Kamber of students, 880. 



COLLEOB OF PhTSICIANS AND SCROEONS, 

Medical Department of Columbia College 
(New York City). President, Edward Dela- 
field; also Lecturer on Pathological Astronomy. 
E^ublished 1807. 

Faculty: Willard Parker, Clinical Sur- 
gery; Alonzo Clark, Pathology and Practical 
Medicine; John C. Dalton, Physiology and 
Hygiene; Samuel St. John, Chemistry and 
MedicalJurisprudence ; Thomas M. Markoe, 
Surgery; T. Gaillard Thomas, Obstetrics, and 
[Mioses of Women and Children; John T. 
Metcalfe, Clinical Medicine; Henry B. Sands, 
Anatomy; James W. MtLnne ( Adjunct), 
Obsldrics, and Diseases of Women and Children ; 
Thomas T. Sabine (Adjunct), Anatomy; 
Charles F. Chandler (Adjunct). Chemistry and 
MeduxU Jurisprudence; Edward Curtis, 
ifoterui Medica and Therapeutics; William 
Detmold (Emeritus), Climcal and Military 
Surgery; WillUm H. Draper, Diseases of the 
Skin ; Cornelius R. Agnew, Diseases of the Eye 
end Ear; Abraham Jercobi, Diseases of Chil- 
dren; Feseenden N. Otis, Venereal Diseases, 
and Diseases of Genilo Urinary Organs; John 
G. Curtis, i;teiii(w«/r«tor of Anatomy; Charles 



McBumey, Assistant Demonstrator of Anatomy; 
James L. Little, Operative Surgery and Surgi- 
cal Dressings; Edward C. Sequin, Diseases 
of Netvous System {Insanity); George G. 
Wheelock, Physical Diagnosis; A. Bray ton 
Ball, Diseases of the Kidneys. 
liumber of studenU, 356. 

College or St. Frawcis Xavier (New- 
York City). Founded 1847. President, H. 
Hudon. 

Faculty aind other college officers : Francis 
Cazeau, Vice-President, Prefect of Studies, and 
Chief Disciplinarian ; James Perron, Treasur- 
er; TheodoTQ Thiry, Chaplain; Charles H. 
DeLuynes, Librarian; William Pardow, i4«- 
sistant Prefect of Studies and Discipline, Libra- 
rian of the Students' Library; Godfrey Fride- 
rici. Logic, Metaphysics, Ethics, and German : 
Samuel Frisbee, Physics, Mathematics, Miner- 
alogy, Botany, and Mechanics ; Cleophas Des- 
jardins. Chemistry ; Maurice Ronayne, Histo- 
ry and Evidences of Religion, President of the 
Debating Society ; Patrick Dcaly, Dire^or of 
the Alumni Sodality; Peter Cassidy, Rhetoric 
and Elocution; James Casey, Belles-Lettres 
and Geometry; Francis Smith, Classics and 
Algebra; John Ciraningham, Introductory 
Class ; Joseph Jerge, Grammar, Afgebra, and 
German; John B. Prendergast, Grammar; 
Edward McTammany, Grammar; Robert Mo- 
Ginley, James P. Melanephy, Rudiments; 
Francis Xavier Renaud, Commercial and Pre- 
paratory Cottrses; James H. Reddan, Arithme- 
tic and French; John O'Neill, Commercial 
Law ; Aloysius W. Reilly, First Commercial 
Class; Charies F. H. O'Neill, Second Commer- 
cial Class ; Thomas J. McDonou^-h, Third 
Commercial Class; William B. J. Boddy, 
First Preparatory Class; Thomas J. Went- 
worth, Second Preparatory Class ; Francis T- 
Durand, Third Preparatory Class ; John S. 
O'Leary, FouHh Prefxiratory Class; Theo- 
dore T. Chevalme, French ; Prof P. Oeker, 
German; Antonio A. Herrera, Drawing and 
Penmanship; John Dowdle, Penmanship; 
Felix Simon, Vocal Music. 
Number of students, 446. 



C/ORNELL University (Ithaca). Found- 
ed 1865. President, Andrew D. White ; also 
Professor of History. 

Faculty: William Channing Russel, Viee- 
President, History, and South European Lan- 
guages ; Evan W. Evans, Mathematics ; George 
C. Caldwell, Agricultural Chemistry ; Burt G. 
Wilder, Comparative Anatomy and ZoOlogy; 
Willard Fiske, LibrariaH, North European 



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Languagei; William D. Wilson, RegistroTf 
Moral and Intellectual Philosophy ; James Law, 
Veterinary Medicine and Saryery; William 
Charles Cleveland, Civil Engineering; Charles 
Fred. Hartt, General, Economic, cuid Agricul- 
tural Geology; Albert N. Prentiss, Botany, 
Horticulture, and Arboriculture ; John L. Mor- 
ris, Practical Mechanics, and Director of the 
Machine-Shops ; Charles A. Shacflfer, Analyti- 
cal Chemistry and Mineralogi/ ; Charles H. 
Wing, Chemistry; Henry McCandless, Agri' 
culture; Tracy Peek, Latin; Isaac Flogg, 
Greek ; Charles Chauncy Shackford, Rhetoric 
and General Literature ; Charles Babcock, Ar- 
chitecture; Hiram Corson, Angfo-Saxon, Eng- 
lish, and Oratory ; William A. Anthony, Phy^ 
sics and Industrial Mechanics ; William £. 
Arnold, Mathematics ami Military Tactics; 
James W. Mac Murray, Military Science ; H. 
H. Boyesen, North European Languages; T. 
Frederick Crane, South European Languages ; 
Henry T. Kddy, Mathematics ; James Morgan 
Hart, Waterman T. Hewctt, Bela P. Mac- 
Koon, North European Languages; James 
Edward Olirer, Ziba Hazard Potter, Mathe- 
matics; Frederick L. O. Roehrig;, Alfred Steb- 
bins. South European Languages; Lucicn A. 
Wait, Mathematics; Louis Agassiz, Natural 
History ; Theodore W. Dwight, Constitutional 
Law ; John Stanton Gould, Mechanics applied 
to Agriculture; George Washington Greene, 
American History; James Russell Lowell, 
English Literature; Gold win Smith, English 
History ; Bayard Taylor, German Literature ; 
James Anthony Froude, English History; C. 
V. Riley, Economic Entomology; Edward 
Wyllys Hyde, Civil Engineering; William 
Russell Dudley, Botany; John Henry Com- 
stock, Entomology; William Harkins, Assist- 
ant in the Library; B. Hermon Smith, Direc- 
tor of the Unioerslty Press; George Berry, J. 
H. Comstock, Masters of the Ch-mes. 

Number of students (men and women), 
537. 

• Db Vkaux Collbob (Suspension Bridge). 
Founded 1857. Acting President, George Her- 
bert Pattei-son; also Professor of Sacred 
Studies, Lain, Greek, French, 

Faculty ; James Van Voast (head master), 
Sacred Studies, Mathematics; Francis E. 
Pierce, Military Science; William Keith 
Brookn, Mathematics, Physical Science, Book- 
keeping; Cecil Barnes, English, Geogiaphfj, 
History; Francis Eu^ne Whitney, Gre^k, 
German, Music; Charles Newton Fessenden, 
Latin, ElottUion, Drawing, Penmanship, 
Number of students, 60. 



Elmiba Fbmalb Collbgb (Eknira). 
Founded 1855. President, Augustus W. 
Cowles ; also Professor of Sacred Literature, 
Mental and Moral Science* 

Faculty and other college officers: D. R. 
Ford, Physical Science, Mathematics, and As- 
tronomy; Anna M. Bronson, Physiology and 
English Literature; E. Harriet Stan wood, 
Latin, Algebra, and Evidences of Christianity ; 
Agathe Elise Jacot, French and German; C. 
L. Chubbuck, History and Arithmetic; Clara 
H. Hannum, Gymnastics, Latin, and History ; 
Laura A. Wentworth, Music; Mary W. 
Knight, Music; G. W. Waters. Painting; 
Kate M. Bacon, Draiving and Painting, 

Number of students ( women ) , 151. 

Hamilton Collbob (Clinton). Founded 
1812. President, Samuel Gilman Brown; 
also Professor of Evidences of Christianity. 

Faculty and other college officers : Charles 
Avery (Emeritus), Chemistry; Nicholas Wes- 
termann Goertner, College Pastor; Grew 
Root, Mathematics, Mineralogy, and Geology ; 
Christian Henry Frederick Peters, Agronomy; 
Ellicott Evans, Law, History, Civil Polity, 
and Political Economy ; Edward North, Greek; 
John William Mears, Intellectual and Moral 
Philosophy; Albert Huntington Chester, Ag- 
ricultural Chemistry ; Abel Grosvenor Hop- 
kins, Latin; Chester Huntington, Natural 
Philosophy ; Henry Allyn Frink, Logic, Rhet- 
oric, and Elocution. 

Number of students, 149. 



Hastwick Seminary (Hartwick Semi- 
nary P.O., Otsego Co.). Founded 1815. 
Principal, Jftmes Pitcher. 

Faculty : Luther E. Albert, Theology ; F. 
W. Wetherwax, Tutor; George Fenton, 
Assistant Tutor ; Mrs. Cora 0. Barnard, Mu- 
sic. 

Number of students (men and women), 73. 



Hob ART Collbob (Geneva). Foundc-d 
1824. President, Maunsell Van Rensselaer; 
also Professor of Christian Ethics, Evidences of 
Christianity, and Intellectual Philosophy. 

Faculty and other college officers : Ken- 
drick Metcalf, Rhetoric and Elocution, and Eng- 
lish Language and Literature; John Tow- 
ler. Civil Engineering, Chemistry, Mathematics, 
and Modem Ijanguages; Hamilton L. Smith, 
Astronomy and Natural Philosophy ; Joseph H. 
McDuniels, Gretk; Francis Pliilip Nash, 
Latin; William Stevens Perry, History; 



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Charles T. Vail, Elocution, English Language 
and Uteratan, also Librarian and Registrar, 
Number of students, 45. 

IvoHAM Univbssitt (Le Koy). Founded 
1857. Acting President, Ludos D. Chapin ; ' 
d$o ProfiiMor of Art Criticism. 

Facnltj: Mrs. E. E. Ingham Staunton, 
Tiot'ChanotUar, and Director of the School of 
Art ; William L. Parsons, Mental and Moral 
Science; Mrs. L. A. Parsons, Classification, 
B'atonf, and Literature; Miss Rhoda E. Mead, 
French and German; J. Jennings, Mathemat- 
ia and Academic Studies ; Miss Sarah B. Cor- 
liss, Natural Sciences and Academic Studies; 
R. L. D. Chapin, Latin ; Abbio B. Gray, Pre- 
paratory Department ; Mrs Julia W. Davison, 
Health and Domestic Department; Phineas 
Stionton, Drawing, Crayoning, and Oil Paint' 
ing; Henri Appy, Vocal Music; Mrs. C. S. 
P. Carjr, BUss ilittie Feagles, Miss Maggie R. 
Innii, Mrs. J. Jennings, Instrumental Music. 

Namber of students, 160. 

MiDisoff Uniysssitt (Hamilton). 
Founded 1820; chArterod 1846. President, 
Bbeueaer Dodge; also Professor ^ Metaphys- 
ics. 

Faeolty : Philetus B. Spear, Hebrew ; Alex- 
tader M Bcebee,Zx)^tc; Lucien M. Osbom, 
Natval Sciences ; N. Lloyd Andrews, Greek, 
aim Librarian ; John James Lewis, Civil las' 
lory, English Literature, and Oratory ; Edward 
Jodson, Latin and Modern Languages; H. 
Htrrey, Moral Philoaophy, Biblical Literpreta- 
tion, €Mi Pastoral Theology ; James M. Taylor, 
Mathematics, also Principal of the Grammar 
School ; David Weston, Eodesicutioal History, 

Number of students, 189. 

Havhattah Colleob (New- York City). 
Founded 1863. Director, Brotlicr Paolian. 

Packbr Colleoiatb Institutb (Brook- 
lyn). Founded 1846. President, A. Crit- 
teoden. 

FacuUr: D. G. Eaton, Mathematics and 
Natural Science; Miss Elizabeth J. Smith, 
Matron; Miss Susan K. Cook, Mrs. Mary H. 
LeiBngwdl, Collegiate Teachers; Miss Abby T. 
Wells, Miss Harriet A. Dickinson, Miss An- 
nie L. Parker, Miss Louise B. Ilendriksen, 
Miss Louise V. Van Ingen, Miss Veturia 
Minson, First Academic Department; Miss 
Alice A. Canith, Miss Susan R. Howard, 
KisB Manr F. Swain, Miss M. Gordon Pryor, 
Um Emily J. Uadden, Miss Margaret E. 



Window, Second Academic Department ; Miss 
Mary A. Willis, Miss Elizabeth A. Massa, 
Third Academic Department ; Miss Sarah Lou- 
ise Taylor, Miss Maria L. Fullerton, Prepara- 
tory; M iss' Sophia L. Waterbury, Composition; 
Mile. Emilie Achert, French; Miss Cclinda T. 
Davis, Latin; Madame Antonie Hoffmann. 
German ; Alberto De Tornos, Spanish ; Mrs. 
Marion Christopher, Organist and Vocal Mu- 
sic; S. Stcflfanone, Vooal Music; Miss Harriet 
Hudson Clarke, Voccd Music; Madame Wil- 
liam Vincent Wallace, Instrumental Music; 
Miss Virginia Granbery, Drawing and Oil 
Painting; Miss Eliza G. Aller, Elementary 
Draioing; Mrs. Juliet W. Perkins, Elocution; 
Miss Ellen Garahan, Penmanship; Miss Fanny 
Elkins, Laboratory Assistant; Miss Hannah 
J. Garahan, Librarian ; Miss Emma J. 
Browne, Sea-etary; A. B. Crosby, Physiola- 

Number of students, 809. 

RuTOBBS Fbxalb Collbob (New- York 
City). Founded 1838. President, George 
W. Samson. 

St. John's College (Fordham). Found- 
ed 1846. President, Joseph Shea; also Pro- 
fessor of Evidences of Religion. 

Faculty and other college officers : John 
Fitzpatrick, Chief Disciplinarian ; Peter Tissot, 
Book-keeping ; Godfrey Friodrici, Mental Phi- 
losophy, Ethics, and German; Lionis Jouin, 
Physics, Chemistry, and Mathematics: David 
Merrick, History; Edward Doucet, Chaplain; 
William J. Doherty, Rlietoric and Music; 
John J. McCarthy, Delles-Lettres and Geome- 
try; Thomas J. Campbell, -C/rtss/csa/w/ Alge- 
bra ; Francis S. Smiih, Grammar and Arith- 
metic; David C. Plante, Grammar and Arith- 
metic; Ernest Desjardins, Grammar and 
AriUiinetic ; Alfi-ed La Rue, Latin; Neil N. 
McKinnon, English^ Geometry, and Boofc-keep- 
ing ; Charles J. O'Connor, EnfjUsh, Algebra, 
and Book-keeping ; John O'Rourkc, Enfjlish and 
Arithmetic; Patrick Donnelly, English and 
Arithmetic; Henry Kavanagh, Preparatory 
Class; Raymond Sapia, Spanish and Pen- 
mnnsliip ; Julius Matd, Music ; Salvator Urso, 
Music ; Felix Simon, Music ; James Bathgate, 
Physician. 

Number of students, 265. 

St. Joseph's Collboe ( Buffalo). Found- 
ed 1861. President, Brother Frank. Vice- 
President, Brother Halward. 

Number of students, 291. 



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St. Lawrvugb Ukivbbsitt (Canton). 
Founded 1856. 

• Facnity : Ebcnezer Fisher, President of 
Theological School, also Professor of Tlteology 
and Ethics ; John Stchhins I-ee, Ecclesiastical 
Histoi-y and Biblical Archndorjy ; Orello 
Cone, Biblical Lanfftwgcs and Literature and 
German ; AG. Gaines, Acting President Col* 
Ifffc oj Letters and Science, aho Professor of 
Jnleliedual and Moral Philosophy ; John 
Stocker Miller, Latin and Greek; Allen Eu- 
gene Kilby, Maihemaiics; Lucy G. French, 
French and Lafin ; Edwin C. Bolles, Micros- 
copy. Chemistry, ZoUlogy, and Botany; James 
Henry Chapin, Geology and Mineralogy; A. 
Zenas Squire, Mathematics; Foster L. Backus, 
Latin; Annette J. Shaw, German; Hiram 

A. Mcrrell, Mathematics; Isaac P. Booth, 
Librarian ; Mrs. Edna J. C. Noble, Elocidion, 

Number of students (men and ^omen), 69. 

St. Stephen's Colleob (Annandale). 
Founded 1860. Warden, Robert, B. Fair- 
bairn ; aiso Professor of Moral Philosophy. 

Faculty and other collej^ officers : GJeoriro 

B. Hopson, Latin; Andrew Oliver, Greek 
and Hebrew; William W. Olsscn, Mathematics 
and Natural Philosophy; Charles A. Foster, 
History and English Language and Literature ; 
James Stryker, Greek; H. C, Rush, Tutor; 
William H. Tomlins, Librarian. 

Number of students, 71. 

SYBACOsbUNiVBRSiTT (Syracuse). Found- 
ed 1870. Chancellor, Alexander Winchelh 

Officers of instruction and government: 
John R. French, Mathematics ;^ Wesley P. 
Codfngion, GrceZ; ,; John J. Brown, Chemistry; 
Charles W. Bennett, History and Logic; Ile- 
man II. Sanford, Latin ; George F. Comfort, 
Modem Languages and JEsUietics; John H, 
Durston, Modem Languages; W. Locke Rich- 
ardson, Elocution; John Towler, Anatomy; 
Frederick Hyde, Surgery; Hinlm N. Eastman, 
Medicine; Nelson Nivison, Physiology, Pa- 
thology, and Hygiene; Edward B. Stevens, 
Materia Medlca, TlieraiKutics, and Botany; 
Charles E. Rider, OphthaJmologi/ and Diseases 
of the Ear; Harvey B. Wilbur, Diseases of tfie 
Mind and Nervous System ; J. V. P. Quack- 
cnbush, Obstetrics, and Diseases of Women and 
Cliildren; John Van Duyn, Histology and 
Microscopy, and Assistant in Anatomy ; Joseph 
P. Dunlap, Clinical Medicine; Henry Dar- 
win Didnma, Clinical Medicine; Roger W. 
Pease, Clinical Surgery ; Alfred Mercer, Clin- 
ical Surgery; J. Otis Burt, Materia Medica; 
WUfrcd W. Porter, Clinical Midwifery, and 



Diseases of Women and Children; WQliam T. 
Plant, Medical Jurisprudence; John W. Law- 
ton, Cliniccd OphtJwUmology and Diseases of the 
Ear; Miles G. Hyde, Demonstrator of Anat' 
amy; John P. Griffin, Lihrarian and Be^istrar, 
Number of students, 108. 

Union College (Schenectady). Found* 
ed 1795. President, Eliphalet Nott Potter; 
also Professor of Moral Philosophy, and Z^ec- 
turer upon^the Evidences of Christianity. 

Faculty: Tayler Lewis, Oriental Langua" 
ges, and Greek and Latin ; Isaac W. Jackson, 
Mathematics; John Foster, Natural Phtlcso- 
phy ; Jonathan Pearson, Natural History; 
Henry Whitehome, Latin and Greek; Wil- 
liam Wells, Modem Languages and LitenUwre ; 
Maurice Perkins, Analytical Chemistry, and 
Curator of the Museum ; Rev. Ransom Be- 
thune Welch, Logic, Bhetoric, English Literal 
ture, and Mental Philosophy; Cady StalejTy 
Civil Engineering; Harrison Edwin Webster, 
Natural History ; Sidney A. Norton, Physics; 
Isaiah B. Price, Mathematics and History; 
Jonathan Pearson, Treasttrer and Libraricm ; 
Edgar Marshall Jenkins, Assistant Treawsarer 
and Pegistrar. 

Preparatory department : Benjamin Stan- 
ton, Preparatory Training for the Cfjleqe; Sam* 
uel Burnett Howe, Principal of Schenectady 
Union School; Thomas R. Featherstonhangh, 
Assistant Professor in Union Classical Instil 
tute. 

Medical department (Albany Medical Col- 
lege, established 1839). James McNangb- 
ton. Theory and Practice of Medicine ; James 
H. Armsby, Surgery; Edmnnd R. Fleaslee, 
Diseases of Women ; Meredith Clymer, Dis^ 
eases of the Nervous System and of the Mind; 
William P. Seymour, Obstetrics and Diaeams 
of Children ; John V. Lansing, Physiologif and 
Clinical Medicine; Albert Vandenreer, Anal' 
omy; Henry R. Haskins, Anatomy; G«oi^ 
T. Stevens, Ophthalmic and Orthopedic jSut- 
gery; John M. Bigelow, Materia Medica; 
Maurice Perkins, Chemistry and Toxicology ; 
Hon. Ira Harris, Medi<xil, Jurisprudence; B. U. 
Steenburg, Demonstrator of Anatomy ; Henry 
March, Curator of the Museum; William 
Hniles. Assistant Curator; Willis S. Tnc^er, 
Chemistry. 

Law department (Law School Albany) : 
Thomas W. Olcott, President; Orlando 
Meads, Secretary ; Ira Harris, Practice, Plead' 
ings,and Evidence; Isaac Edwards, Perwomd 
Property, Contracts, and Commercial Law ; Wil- 
liam F. Allen, Real Properly ; Matthew Hale, 
Criminal Law and Domestic Relatione; Wil- 



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liam L. Learned, Relation between Civil and 
Common Law, 

Dndlcj Observatory : George W. Hough, 
A.M., Director, assisted bi^ Thomas E. Mc- 
Clure, Hcnrr L. Foreman, Chirenee Stirling, 
Prof. liongh. 

Number of students, 459. 

UxiVERSiTT OF BoFFALO, Mcdical De- 
partment (Buffalo). Founded . 

Dean of Faculty, Julius F. Mmcr. 

Faculty: Charles B. Coventry (Emciicus), 
Pkjfsioloffif and Medical Jurisprudence ; Sand- 
ford £astman (Emeritus), Anatomy and Clini- 
col Surgery ; James P. White, Ol^etiicSt and 
Diseases of Woitken and Children; George 
Hadley, Chemistry and Pharmary ; Thomns 
F. Rochester, Principles and Practice of Med- 
icine and Clinical Medicine ; Edward M. 
Moore, Principles and Practice of Surgery; 
William 11. Mason, Physiology and Micros- 
oft; Julius F. Miner, Special Surgery ;*li. 
K. Eastman, Materia Medica and Hygiene ; 
Milton G. Potter, Anatomy; William C, 
Phelps, Demonstrator of Anatomy. 

Number of students, 98. 

UXITEBSITT OF THE ClTY OP NeW 

York (New York City). Founded 1331. 
President, Howard Crosby. 

Faculty and other college ofBcers: l^saac 
Ferrii (Emeritus) Chancellor ; E. A. Johnson, 
latin ; John W. Draper, Chemistry and Natu- 
ral Histfjry; Marty n Paine (Emeritus), Mate- 
ria Aledica and Therapeutics; Alfred C. Post, 
Surgery^ Military Surgery , and Uygiene ; Ben- 
jamin N. Martin, Logic and Intellectual and 
Moral Philosophy; Richard H. Bull, Cidi 
Engineering; Henry M. Baird, Greek; George 
W. Coakley, Mathematics, Natural Philosophy, 
and Astronomy ; John C. Draper, Chanistry; 
Charles A. Budd, Obstetrics, and Diseases of 
Women and Children ; Henry Draper, Physi- 
ology and Analytical Cltemisiry ; Alfred L. 
l4)omis, Medicine ; William Darling, Anato- 
my; T. Addison Richards, Art; E. H. Gillett, 
Pdiiical Science; Vincenzo Botta, Italian; 
William H. Thompson, Materia Medica and 
Therapeutics; Henry E. Davies, Law; E. 
Dclafteld Smith, Law; David R. Juques, Law; 
George H. Moore, Law; Charles Fi-ancis 
Stone, Law; Charles Carroll, French and 
German; John J. Stevenson, Geology; Joseph 
A Sazton, Mechanical and Architectural 
Draicing; Luis F. Mantilla, Spanish; Alex- 
ander Mcyrowitz, Hebrew, 

Number of students, 354. 



Univebsitt OF Rochester (Rochester J. 
Founded 1846. President, Martin B. Ander- 
son ; aho Professor of Intellectual and Moral 
Philosophy. 

Faculty and other college oflScers : Asahel 
C. Kendrick, Greek; Isaac F. Quinby, Mathe- 
matics and Natural Philosophy; Henry A. 
Ward, Natural Sciences ; Samuel A. Latti- 
more. Chemistry, also Curator of the Cabinets ; 
Albert H. Mixer, Modern Languages ; Joseph 
H. Gil more. Logic, Rhetoric, and English Litera- 
ture, also Financial Secretary ; Otis II. Rob- 
inson, Mxithematics, also Librmian ; William C. 
Morey, Latin. 

Number of students, 157. 

Vassar College. Founded 1861. Presi- 
dent, John II. Raymond ; also Professor of 
Mental and Moral Philosophy. 

Faculty and other college oflBcers: Harriet 
W. Terry, Lady Principal; Charles S. Far- 
rar, Mathematics, Natural Philosopliy, and 
Chemistry ; Maria Mitchell, Astronomy ; ■ Alida 
C. Avery, Physiology and Hytfiene ; Truman 
J. Backus, Hhetoric and English Language and 
Literature; James Orton, Natural History; 
Charles J. Ilinkel, Ancient and Modem Lan- 
guages; Henry Van Ingen, Painting and 
Drawing; Frederick Louis Rittor, Music; 
Pri^cilla H. Braislin, Cliemistry and Mathe- 
matics; Eliza M. Wiley, Music; Ann Eliza 
Morse, Assistant; Cfficilie Kapp, German; 
Fanny A. Wood, English Composition ; Fran- 
ces Ellen Lord, Greek and Latin ; Eunice D. 
Sewall, Librarian; Anna M. Piatt, Music; 
Ajines M. Lord, Music ; Mary Dame, Presi- 
denVs Secretary and Assis'ant Librarian ; Ade- 
laide L. Smiley, Latin ; Caroline B. Lc Row, 
^/ocu/ion / Ahbie F. Goodsel I, AVjctonc awe/ 
English Composition; Lily E. Smythc, Vocal 
and Instrumental Music; Susan E. Dagyett, 
Ancient History, and Superintendent of Prepar- 
atory Students; Charlotte C. Haskell, Botany; 
Clcmcntinp Villiot, /VewcA; Eunice M. Cre- 
tin, French; Mary L. Segur, Vocal Music; 
Lois Anna Greene, Physical Training; Alma 
B. Goodrich, Music; Arabella J. Tuttlo, 
Music; Charlotte E. Finch, Music; Ber- 
gitte Soot, Music; Ella M. Liggett, MatJt- 
ematics; Mary L. Avery, English Composi- 
tion; Ellen Dean, Mathematics; Abbie AL 
Goodwin, Latin. 

Number of students, 411. 

NEW JERSEY. 

BoRDENTOwir Female College (Bor- 
dentown). Chartered 18.J3. President, John 



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College Directory. 



H. Brakelej; aho Ijecturet on Natural Sci- 
ence, 

Faculty : J. Easter, Mental and Moral 
Science; Charles W. Bann, Mathematics and 
Ancient Languarjee; Miss Jane Briscoe, 
Physiology and Ilistory; Mrs. J. E. D. Easter, 
Bhtloric and English Literature ; Joseph Koeh- 
ler, Instrumental Music; Mrs. E. Lansing^, 
Music, Drawing and Painting ; Miss Mary A. 
Harmon, Singing; Mad'lle Aimee Wagner, 
Frencfi and German, 

Number of students, 128. 

Burlington Colleob (Burlinf^ton). 
Founded 1846. President, William Henry 
Odenheimer. 

Officers and teachers : Francis J. Clerc, 
Mental and Moral Philosophy; Marcus F. 
Hyde, Ancient Languages ; George McClellan 
Fisk, English TJteraiure; Horace R. Chase, 
Matliematics ; Charles Everest, English Lan- 
guage , also Drill-Master; C. Baquet, French; 
A. Puladini, Italian and Spcmish ; E. R. 
Schmidt, Natural Sciences and German; 
Henry S. Haines, Curator, 

Theological faculty: W. H. Odenheimer, 
Canon Law ; F. J. Clerc, Ecclesiastical Ilistory, 
Evidences of Christianity, Book of Common 
Prayer ; M. F. Hyde, Sacred Criticism and 
Patristics; George Morgan Hills, Ilomiletics 
and Pastoral Theology; Elvin K. Smith, 
Dogmatic Theotogif ; William S. Walker, 
Oriental and Biblical Literature; Louis C. 
Nemnan, llebrew. 

Number of students, 65. 

CoLLBGB OP New Jebset (Princeton). 
Founded 1746. President, James McCosh; 
also Professor of BlUical Instruction. 

Faculty and other college officers : Stephen 
Alexander, Natural Philosophy and Astronomy ; 
Lyman H. Atwater, Logic, and Moral and 
Political Science; Arnold Guyot, Geology 
and Physical Geography ; John T. Dufficld, 
Maihematicft and Mechanics; J. Stillwell 
Schanck, Citemistry and Natural Hiatory; 
Henry C. Cameron, Greek, also D'brarian ; 
Charles W. Shields, Ilistory, and Harmony 
of Science and Revealed Religion ; William A. 
Packard, IxUin and Science of Language; John 
8. Hart, Belles-Lettres, and Englisli Language 
and Literature ; Joseph Karg^, Modem Lan- 
guages ; S. G. Peabody, Elocution ; Fuller P. 
Dalrymple, Mathematics ; Eli Marsh Turner, 
BelleS'Lettres, also Assistant Librarian; Al- 
fred H. Fahncstock, Latin ; John Laird, Greek; 
James C. Moffat, Lecturer on Greek Literature ; 
George H. Cook, Lecturer m Geology; C. F. 



Brackett, Physics; Henry B. Cornwall, AnO' 
lytical Chemistry, Mineralogy, &c. 
Number of students, 376. 

Drew TaBOLOOiOAL Seminuit (Madi- 
son). Founded 1868. President, Randolph 
^. Foster; also Professor of Systematic 
Theology. 

Faculty : James Strong, Exegetical Theology; 
John F. Hurst, Historical Theology; Daniel P. 
Kidder, Practical Theology ; Henry A. Buttz, 
Greek, also Librarian; Henry C. Whiting, 
Latin ; J. N. Irvin, Greek; Solomon Paraons, 
Mathematics and Science; Rudolph Wahl, 
German, alsd Acting Librarian ; John Miley 
(elect). Systematic Theology, 

Number of students, 107. 

Rutgers College (New Brunswick). 
Founded 1770. President, William Henry 
Campbell. 

Faculty and other college offices: Theo- 
dore Frelinghuysen, Biblical Literature, Evi- 
dences of Christlatxity and Moral Philoaojihy ; 
George H. Cook, Citemistry, Natural History, 
and Agriculture ; De Witt Ten Broeck Reiley, 
Latin ; Datid Murray, Mathematics, Natural 
Philosophy, and Astronomy; Theodore Sand- 
ford Doolittle, Rhetoric, Logic, and Mental 
FMosophy ; Jacob Cooper, Greek ; John Con- 
over Smock,3/intii</ and Metallurgy ; George W. 
Atherton, History, Political Economy, and 
Constitutional Law, also Military Superin- 
tendent and Librarian; Carl Meyer, Modem 
Languages; Francis Cuyler Van Dyck, 
Analytical Chemistry; Edward A. Bowser, 
Matliematics ; Isaac Edgar Hasbrouck, Mathe- 
matics and Graphics; Albert Stan borough 
Cook, Mathematics, 

Number of students, 194. 

Setok Hall College (South Orange). 
Founded 1856. President, M. A. Corrigan. 

Officers, professors, and tutors : James H. 
Corrigan, ( Vice-President), Metaphysics and 
Ethics; William P. Salt, Civil Polity and 
Political Economy ; M. J. Holland, First Pre- 
fect and Chief Disaplinarian ; Theodore 
Blume, Ixitin, Greek, and German ; Charles 
do Gomme, Mathematics and Natural Science ; 
William Phillips, History and English lAtera- 
ture; Leopold de Grand-Val, French; Ed- 
ward Fritsch, Music; A. Benthall Briggs, 
Commerrial Course; William Roach, Latin 
and Penmanship; William Domin, James 
McGaul, John Sheppard, Prefects of Disci" 
pline. 

Number of students, about 110. 



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Stitiks Institute of TscHNOLOdr 
(Hoboken). Founded 1870. President, 
^eDrj Morton. 

Faculty: Alfred M. Mayer, Phyalcs; 
Bobert H. Tbur^tton, Mechanical Engineering ; 
De Valson Wood, Malhemalics; C. W. Mac- 
Cord, Mechanical Drawing ; Albert R. Leeds, 
Ckemittry; Cbarles F. Krceh, Latiguages; 
Edward Wall, BcfU*-LeUre$. 

Number of students, 81. 

Thbolooical Sbmihart of thb Prb8- 
BTTBsixK CeaROH (Frinceton). Founded 
1811 

Ficolty : Charles Hodge, ExegeHcal, Didactic, 
ami Polemic Theology; Alexander T. McGill, 
Ecclenastical, Homiletic, and Pastoral Theology; 
William Henry Green, Oriental and Old Tes- 
tamexA Literatwre; James C. Moffat, Church 
HiMory; Caspar Wistar Hodge, New Testa- 
■OK LiteratHre and Biblical Greek; Cbarles 
A Aiken, Christian Ethics and Apologetics, and 
Lkorian. 

Komber of students, 117. 

TaiOLOGlCAL SBMI5ART OF THE Kb- 

rosxED Chobch (New Brunswick). 
Foooded . 

Ficaliy : Samuel M Woodbridgo, Eoclesi' 
sttical History and Government; John De 
Witt, Biblical IJterature ; David D. Dcmarest, 
Pattoml Theology ; Abraham B. Van Zandt, 
Didadic and Polemic Theology. 

Number of stndeou, 21. 

PENNSYLVANIA. 

ALLBKTOW5 Femalx Colleob (Allen- 
town). Founded 1867. President, W. R.- 
Hofibrd ; also Profisaor of Afathemaiics and 
Sacred Literature, 

Board of instractors ; S. 0. Wagner, Latin 
nd Moral Science; B. X. Braulik, German; 
Miss Soo C. Lantz, Higher English Branches; 
Mis Sarah Hughes, Higher English Branches 
nd Draving ; M.Us Mary C. Meyer, English 
Branekes; Miss Ida C. Erdman, Miss M. 
Katio Rothrock, Instrumented Music; C. F. 
Herrmann, Vocal Music. 

Nambcr of students, 80. 

AxDALUSi A College ( Andalusia). Found- 
ed I860. Actin:^ President, A. II. Fetterolf; 
ai» Pnfsnr of Mttliemitics and Moral Phi- 
losophif. 

Faculty and other college officers : Charles 
Woodward, Latin and Greek; W. S. Roney, 
Natwral Sciences, Latin, and Greek; J. H. 
Dcrictor, Assistant in Stq>eruision ; J. H. 



Moser, Penmanship and Book-keeping; Miss 
R. Pearce, Music; Miss Kate Detwiler, Ma- 
tron. 
dumber of students, 41. 

Cottage Hill College fbr Young 
Ladies (Y'oik). Chartered 1868. President, 
J. Nelson Clark ; also Professor of Intellectual 
and Moral Philosophy. 

Faculty : Mrs. Kate E. Clark, Lady Pan- 
cipalf also Listrumentcd and Vocal Music; 
William Knoche, Instrumental Music; 
James Yeats, Latin, Greek, and Mathematics ; 
Miss Kate M. Vaughn, Fnnch, Natural 
Science, and English Literature; Miss Bellini 
0. Strawinski, Painting and Drawing; Hol- 
lingsworth Gicipe, Vocal Music. 

Number of students, 70. 

Crozer Theological Seminary (Up- 
land). Founded 1867. President, Ilcnry 
G. Weston; cdso Preaching and Pastoral 
Duties. 

Faculty : George D. B. Pepper, Christian 
TJieology ; Howard Osgood, History and He- 
brew, also Librarian ; Lemuel Moss, Interpre- 
tation of New Testamait. 

Number of students, 47. 

DiCKiifSOx College (Carlisle). (Report 
of 1 872.) Founded 1 783. President. Robert 
R. Doshicll ; also Professor of Moral Science. 

Faculty and other college officers : Sumuel 
D. Ilillman, Mathematics and Astronomy; 
John K. Stnyman, Philosophy and English 
Literature; James H. Graham, Law; Charles 
F. Himes, Natural Science ; S. L. Bowman, 
BifJical Languages and Literature ; Henry M. 
Harman, Ancient Languages and Literature; 
William Trickett, Modem Languages. 

Number of students, 136. 

Franklix and Marshall Collegb 
(Lancaster). Founded 1833. President, 
John W. Nevin ; also Professor of Mental and 
Moral Science, Esthetics, and Philosophy of 
History. 

Faculty, and other college officers: E. V. 
Gerliart, Systematic and Practical Theology; 
Thomiis Q. Apple, Church History and Exe- 
gesis; Frederick A. Gasf, Biblical Theology; 
William M. Nevin, English Literature and 
Belles- Lettres ; Theodore Appcl, Physics and 
Astronomy; John S. Stahr, Natural Science, 
Chemistry, and German; Walter E. Krebs, 
Mathematics and History; Daniel M. Wolf, 
Anrirvf Languages; John L. Atlee, sen. (Eme- 
ritus), Anatomy and Physiology; Cyrus V. 



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Mays, Samael M. Otto, Professors in the 
Academy ; Joseph C. Roonoy, Janitor, 
K umber of studenis, 1 57. 

. Hayerford College (West Haverford). 
Founded 1833. President, Samuel J. Gum- 
mere ; also Professor of Mathematics, Physics, 
and Astronomy. 

Faculty, and other college oflScers ; Thom- 
as Chase, Philology and Literature / John H. 
Dillingham, MorcU and Political Science; 
Henry Hartshome, Physiology and Hygiene; 
Pliny E. Chase, Physical Science,; Edward 
D. Cope, ZoGlogy. 

Number of students, 45. 

Jeffbrsok Medical College (Phila- 
delpliia). Founded 1825. J. Howard Hand, 
Dean of Faculty. 

Faculty : Joseph Pancoast, Anatomy; Sam- 
uel D. Gross, Surgery; Eilcrslio Wallace, Ob- , 
sletrics; B. Howard Rand, Chemistry; John 
B. Biddle, Maleria Medica and Therapeutics ; 
J. Aitkcn Meigs, Institutes of Medicine and 
Medical Jurisprudoice ; J. M. Da Costa, 
Practice of Medicine ; William H. Pancoast, 
Demonstrator of Anatomy; T. H. Andrews, 
Curator of Museum. 

Number of studeirts, 1 14. . 

Lafayette College (Easton). Found- 
ed 1832. President, William C. Cattell; 
also Professor of Mental and Moral Philosophy. 

Faculty : Traill Green, Chemistry ; James 
Henry Coffin, Mathematics and Astronomy; 
Francis Andrew March, English Language and 
Comparative Philology ; John Leaman, Physi- 
ology and Anatomy; Lyman Coleman, Latin 
and Biblical and PhysiccU Geography ; Thom- 
as C. Porter, Botany and Zoiilogy; Augustus 
Alexis Bloombergh, Modem Languages; 
Robert Barber Youngman, Greek; Frederick 
Prime, jun.. Metallurgy and Mineralogy; E. 
Hubbard Barlow, Rhetoric, Elocution, ana Phy- 
sical Culture; Rossiter W. Raymond, Mining 
Geology; Selden Jennings Coffin, Applied 
Mathematics ; James W. Moore, Mechanics and 
Experimental Philosophy; Edward Stewart 
Mofllat, Mining; Justus Mitchell Silliman, 
Mining Engineering and Graphics; Joseph G. 
Fox, Cicil and Topo/raphical Engineering; 
Charles Mclntire, Chemistry ; Robert Frazer, 
jun.. Civil Engineering ; Walter Quincy Scott, 
Greek arid Latin; Joseph Johnston Hardy, 
Matliematics ; David Bennett King, Latin; 
William Baxter Owen, Greek; John Meigs, 
Latin and Grefk; Jefferson Snyder, Modem 
Languages; William Semple Sweeny, Chem' 
tBtry, 

Number of students, 243. 



Lehigh Univerbitt (South Bethlehem). 
Founded 1866. President, Henry Copp^; 
also Professor of History and English Liloa- 
ture. 

Faculty : Hiero B. Herr, Mathematics and 
Astronomy; William H. Chandler, Chemistry; 
Charles McMillan, Civil and Mec/taniccU Engi- 
neering; Benjamiu W. Frazier, Mining and 
Metallurgy ; H. W. Harding, Physics and Me- 
chanics ; Richard P. Rothwell, Demonstrator 
of Mining and Metallurgy. 

Instructors; William A. Lamberton, Latin 
and Greek ; Frank Laurent Clerc, Mathemat- 
ics; S. Ringer, French and German; Spencer 
V. Rico, Graphics and Field Work; llomyn 
Hitchcock, CItemistry; W, L. Church, Me- 
chanical Engineering; W. M. Scudder, Sec- 
retary to the President, 

Number of studente, 117. 

Meadtillb Theological School 

(Meadville). Founded . President, Abid 

A. Livermore, also Professor of Theology, Eth- 
ics, and Old Testament Literature. 

Faculty and instructors : Frederic Hnide- 
koper, Ecclesiastical History of First Three 
Centuries; Geoi^ge L. Cary, New Testament 
Literature and Philosophy, also Curator of 
Natural History; George J. Abbott, Lan- 
guages, History, and Constitution of United 
States; George W. Hosmer, Pastoral Care; 
Amory D. Mayo, Church Polity and Adminis- 
tration ; Charles H. Brigham, Medicevcd Ec- 
clesiastical History and Biblical Ardiceology ; 
M. L. Bartlrtt, Music; William L. Anderson, 
Greek; M. DeYoe. English. 

Number of students (men and women), 
25. 

Mergersburg College (Mercersburg). 
Founded 1865. President, E. E. Higbee; 
also Professor ofJEsthetics and Ethics. 

Faculty and other college officers : John B. 
Kieflfer, Latin, Greek, and Classic Literature ; 
Joseph H. Kcrschner, Mathematics; Adolph 
F. Bechdolt, Natural Sciences; Jacob B. 
Kerschner, Gei'man and Heltrew; Geoi]ge N. 
Abbott, Psydiology and Logic 

Number of students, 100 

Moravian College (Bethlehem). (Report 
of 1872.) Founded 1867. President, Ed- 
mund de Schweinitz. 

Number of students, 200. 

Pennsylvania College (Gettysburg). 

Founded . President, Milton Vsdentine ; 

also Professor of Intellectual and Moral Science. 



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Ficalty and imtrnctors : ^Lather Henry 
Crollf Mathematics and Astivnomjf ; Henry 
Loais Bauj^ber, Greek; Adam Martin, Ger- 
•Mm / Henry Eystcr Jacobs, Latin and His- 
torn; Samuel Philip Sadder, Chemistry t$nd 
Natural Sdencn; John G. Norria, Natural 
BiMtmy; Hart Gilbert, Preparatory Department ; 
John A. Himes, John Bmbaker, Tutors, 

bomber of icodciits, 133. 

PlTTfBimOH FsitALB COLUBOK (PittS- 

builfa). Founded 1855. President, L C. 
Pershing; also Professor of Mental and Moral 
Pkihsophg, 

Faculty : Mrs. C. L. Pershing, Governess ; 
M. M. Johnson, Ancient Languages and Natu- 
nd Sciences ; Mrs. Sarah J. Jameson, Precep- 
trot; Mrs. 8. L. Adams, Higher English 
BramAa; Biiss EmmaS. Sawyer, BeHes-Let- 
ret ; Mrs. K. P. Johnson, Preparatory Depart- 
wml ; Miss liizio K. Pershing, General Assist- 
ant; Miss Lydia A. Greene, Primary Depart- 
ment; Alphonse M. Dansc, French; Carl Grebe 
Italian and Spanish; Mrs. Pauline Danae, 
(rennoii/Gnstavc Blessner, Priiuupal of Musi- 
cal Department ; Mrs. E. Blessner, Instrumental 
Mule; Miss Louise £. Wilson, Assistant 
Ttacker of Instrumental Music; William G. 
Rapp, Guitar; Miss M. M. Campbell, Vocal 
Mutic; Mrs. B. F. Campbell, Drawing and 
Painting ; Miss Mary Cummins, Penmcmship ; 
Bobert Kidd, Elocution; Lucius Osgood, Elo- 
cstien ; Miis Ro4o Phillips, Physical Culture ; 
Mrs. Anna G. Rossitter, Waxwork ; Mrs. Eliza 
Harekotte, Needlework; Adrian J. Ebell, 
yaivtd History and Phafsical Culture; Miss 
Htonah Daris, Matron. 

Number of students, 286. 

8t. Yincbict's Collbob (Beatty's). 
Foanded 1S46. President, Alphonse Heim- 
kr; also Professor of LathHf Natural Philoso- 
phy, and Chemistry. 

Faculty and other college officers : Luke 
Wimmer, Exegesis; Ignatius Truez, Church 
Biitory, Chrtslian Doctrine, and Latin ; An- 
drew Hintennch, Christian Doctrine, Geogra- 
phy, Latin, Greek, and German; Innocent 
Wolf, Moral Theology and Algebra; John 
Sommer, Logic, Metaphysics, Liturgy, Mathe- 
sutict, Painting, and Drawing; Hilary Pfra- 
to^e, Dogmatic Theology, Christian Doctrine, 
Latin, and English ; Aloysius Gorman, liheto- 
ric, English Grammar, Elocution, Book-keep- 
ing, Arithmetic, and Penmanship; Aurelius 
MacMahon, Christian Doctrine, Latin, Greek, 
Englith Grammar, and History; Lawrence 
bhaier, Latin, Greek, German, and History; 



Ambrose Hucbner, Assistant; Raymond 
Daniel, Assistant; Theodose Goth, Assistant; 
Leo Haid, Assistant; Benedict Menges, 
ilss«s/an<; Rhabanus Guttroan, Assistant; 
Augustine Schneider, Assistant; Cornelius 
Eckel, Assistant; Wenzeslaus Kocarnik, ^s- 
sistant; Edward Pierron, Assistant; Nicholas 
Brush, Assistant ; Joseph M. Schwab, Music, 
Number of students, 227. 

SwABTHMORE CoLLEOE (Swarthmorc). 
Founded 1868. President, Edward H. Ma- 
gill ; also Professor of Mental and Moral 
Philosophy. 

Officers of government and instruction: 
Phebo W. Foulke, Matron ; Maria L. San- 
ford, History; Eugono Pauliii, Latin and 
French; Arthur Beardslcy, Applied Mathe- 
matics and Physics; William II. Applcton, 
Greek and German ; Thomas S. Foulke, Su- 
perintendent ; Susan J. Cunningham, Mathe- 
matics; Susan W. Janney, Penmanship and 
Botany; Elizabeth G. Macy, Elocution; Mary 
L. Austin, Latin and English Branches; 
Esther J. Trimble, English Literature, Rhetoric, 
and Elocution ; Samuel S. Green, Physics and 
Chemistry ; Elizabeth S. Owen, Mathematics ; 
Mary P. H. Rockwell, Latin and English 
Branches ; Elizabeth Paulin, French ; Freder- 
ick S. Curtis, Chemistry ; Mary M. Coleman, 
English Branches; George W. Ingraham, 
Latin and English Branches; Kate Louise 
Rockwell, Librarian; Joseph Leidy, Natural 
History; Susanna P. Chambers, Free-hand 
Drawing ; J^wis Lewis, Gymnastics. 
Number of students, 260. 

TSBOLOOIOAL SbMINAST OF THE UNIT- 
ED Pbesbytbrian Cqubch. (Allegheny 
City). Founded 1825. President, Joseph T, 
Cooper; also Professor of Didactic and Po- 
lemic Theology, 

Faculty: A. D. Clark, Biblical Literature 
and Criticism ; David R. Kerr, Church Gov- ^ 
emment and History. 

Number of students, 48. 

Thiel College (Greenville). Founds 
1870. Acting President, II. W. Both; also 
Professor of Latin and English. 

Faculty : W. F. Ulery, Greek; H. Gilbert, 
German and French ; D. McKce, Mathematics, 
also Principal of Academic Depcaiment ; T. B. 
Roth, Assistant. 

Number of students, 70. 

Universitt Female Institute (Lew- 
isburg). Founded 1847. President, Justin R. 
Loomis. 



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Faculty and other oflBccrs : Harriet E. 
Spratt (Principal), Moral and Mental Phi- 
losophtj; Mary Euscbia Brown, 3fii«/c; Mary 
E. Ilcndershot, Mathematics and Gymnastics ; 
E. Gertrude Hamilton, Mttnc; Marcia M. 
Allen, Latin and Natural Sciences; Sarah A. 
Kecd, Preparatory Department; Lizzie Hop- 
kins, English Branches; Lucy McLcod Htim- 
11 ton, French and Painting; Jennie Soars, 
Instrumental Music ; Francis W. Tustin, Natu- 
ral Sciences ; Rclxjcca Sahlcr, Matron, 

Number of students, 123. 

University of Pennstlvawia (Phila- 
delphia). Founded 17%. President, Charles 
J. Stilld. 

Faculty, and other college officers : George 
B. Wood (Emeritus), Medicine; Hugh L. 
Hodge (Emeritus), Obstetrics; Henry H. 
Smith (Emeritus), Surgery;^ George Allen, 
Greek ; Joseph Carson, Materia Medica ; Rob- 
ert E. liogcrs. Chemistry: Joseph Leidy, 
Anatomy ; Francis A. Jackson, iMtin ; E. 
Otis Kendall, Mathematics ; J. Peter Lesley, 
Geology and Mining ; P. Peniberton Morris, 
Law; Francis G. Smith, Medicine; Bichard 
A. F. Penrose, Obstetrics ; Alfred StilM, Medi- 
cine; Harrison Allen, ZuGlogy and 'Compara- 
tive Anatomy; Horatio C. Wood, Botany; 
John J. Reese, Medical Jurisprudence and 
Toxicology ; Charles J. SlilM, History and Eng» 
lish Literature; Oswald Scidcnsticker, Ger- 
man; John G. McICIroy, Greek and History; 
J.I. Clark Hare, Law; Charles P. Krauth, 
Intellectwd and Moral Philosophy; Samuel 
M. Cleveland, Rhetoric and Oratory ; Samuel 
S. Haldcman, Comparative Philology; D. 
Hayes Agncw, Surgery; Robert E. Thomp- 
son, Mathematics; Pcrsifor Frazer, Chemis- 
try; F. A. Br^gy, French; F. A. Genth, 
Chemistry and Mineralogy ; Leonard George 
Franck, Engineering; Samuel B. Howell, 
Mineralogy and Gco'ogy; George R. Barker, 
Physics; E. Coppee Mitchell, Real Estate, Con- 
veynncing, and Equity ; Thomas W. Richards, 
Drauung; Lewis M. Haupt, Mathematics 
and Engineering ; George A. Koenig, Chemis- 
try and Mineralogy; Thomas M. Chatard, 
Chemisfty and Mineralogy ; Joseph McKinley, 
Princiftal of Boys' Charity School ; Miss J. 
Bedlock, Princifxd of Girls* Charity School; 
Miss M. Wallace, Assistant; Miss M. Bed- 
lock, Assistant. 

Number of sxidents (men and women), 
848. 

ViLLANOVA College (Delaware Coun- 
ty). Founded 1842. President, Thomas Gal- 
berry. 



Faculty: M. M. OTarrell, Mathematict; 
Pacifico Neno, Theology and Sacred Scripture ; 
E. C. Donnelly, History; T. C. Middleton, 
Moral Philosophy and English Literature ; 0. 
A. Marsden, Elocution and Rhetoric; F. J. 
McShane, Mathematics and Latin ; Loais Bm, 
French and Drawing; M. Tempany, Latin 
and Greek ; Charles P. Ganntt, Natural Phi- 
losophy, and Cliemistry ; P. Amn, German ; 
George Corrie, Music ; J. T. O'Reilly, James 
Blake, T. F. O'Gara, Disciplinarians ; Henry 
Fleming, E. A. O'Reilly, P. McGovem, J. 
Ryan, J. Marsden, Assistant ProfesworB, 

Number of students, 90. 

Washinotoh AMD Jeffbbsok Collbob 

(Washington). (Report of 1872.) Founded 
1802. President, George P. Hayes ; also Pro- 
fessor of Philosophy , Natural Theology ^ and Evi- 
dences of Christianity, 

Faculty and other college officers : Alonao 
Linn, Greek ; Samuel Jones, Natural Philato- 
phy and Chemistry ; George B. VosO; Mathe- 
matics; Henry Woods, Latin; J. S. Simon- 
ton, Modem fxtnguages; T. Jacobson, English 
Language and Literature ; Robert Kidd, Elo- 
cution; Joseph J. McCarrell, MathematicM; 
George M. Fleming, Ancient Languagu, 

Namber of students, 118. 

Wathesbxjho College (Waynesbar^). 
Founded 1850. President, A. B. MiUer ; 
also Professor of Moral and Intellectual Science. 

Faculty and other college officers : W. G. 
Scott, Mathematics; J. M. Garrison, Greek 
and Latin ; John M. Crow, Greek and Latin ; 
H. D. Patton, English Language and Litera- 
ture ; John F. White, Natural Science ; D. E. 
Woods, Gymnastics; J. W. Shoemaker, Elo- 
cution; Mrs. M. K. B. Miller, Principal Fe- 
male Department ; Mrs. Stella Clark, Miss £• 
Armstrong, Assistant Teachers; Miss Lucj 
V. Inghram, Piano and Vocal Music; Mrs. 
Mary Scott, Organ ; Miss Emma J. Downey, 
FVench. 

Number of students (men and women), 276. 

Western TnEOLOoiCAL Semiitart, of 

the Presbyterian Church (Allegheny City). 
Founded 1825. 

Faculty : David Elliott, (Emeritus), Ecdea- 
iastical and Pastoral Theology; Melancthon 
W. Jacobus, Biblical TJterature and Exegeiiccd 
Theology ; Samuel Jennings Wilson, Biblical 
and Ecclesiastical History ; Archibald Alexan- 
der Hodge, Didactic^ Historical, and Polemic 
Theology; William H. Homblower, Sacrtd 
RJietoric, Church Government, and Pastoral 



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Tknkgn; Lather Halsey, Practical ThBology; 
Edwtrd P. Crane, HArew, 
Nunber of stndeots, 86. 

Wbstbric Univebsitt op Pbnnstlva- 
yiA (Pitt8baiig). Founded 1819. Fretiidcnt, 
Geofgc Woods ; also Professor of Mental and 
Mcral Sdence. 

Facalty: Joseph F. Griggs, Greek; Mil- 
ton B. Goff, MatkemtUics ; Edward P. Crane, 
Ltgicand Rhetoric; Samuel P. Langley, Ai- 
trgmmjf and Phfsics, also Director of Obsensi' 
tory; William Bakewell, Equity, Jurispru- 
demse. Constitutional Law, and Practice ; Hill 
Borpwin, Real Estate, Practice, and Pleading ; 
W. T. E$ines,Criminal and Commercial Law ; 
Alphonse M. Danse, French ; Levi Lodden, 
Preparatory Department ; I. N. Fomer, Com 
msrM Depaximad and English; Paul F. 
Bohrbacher History; Theodore M. Barber, 
Latiu; C. R. Coffin, Greek; Charles C. 
Dickey, Physics and Astronomy; James W. 
Lang^ley Chemistry, Geology, and Mineralogy; 
W. B. HcCallam, Military Science and Civil 
Esgiseeriag. 

Number of students, 179. 

WssTinirsTBB Collbob (New Wilming- 
ton). Founded 1852. President, £. T. Jef- 
fcn. 

Facolty: J. D. Shafer, Greek; James W. 
Stewart, Latin ; W. A. Mehard, Mathematics ; 
J. B. Cummings, Natural Science; Miss 
Mollie Stevenson, Instructress, 

Nomber of students (men and women), 
166. 

Womah'b Medical College of Penk- 
iTLTjuiiA (Philadelphia). Founded 1850. 
Dein of Faculty, Emcline H. Cleveland ; also 
Pnfeuar of Obstetrics and Diseases of Women, 

Pacnlty : Mary J. Scarlett, Anatomy; Rachel 
L Bodiej, Chemistry and Toxicology; Isaac 
Comlj, Principles and Practice of Medicine ; 
Benjarom B. Wilson, Principles and Practice 
«fStayery ; Charles Hermon Thomas, Mate 
ria iJedka and General Therapeutics ; Henry 
Htrtshome, Physiology, Hygiene, and Diseases 
9f Children ; J. Gibbons Hunt, Microscopy and 
Batology; Frances B. White, Demonstrator of 
Anatomy. 

Homber of students, 70. 

MARYLAND. 

Baltimore Fbmais Collbob (Haiti- 
>Bore). Founded 1849. President, Nathan 
Coffiogton Brooks; also Prqfessor of Greek 
^LaiaL 

% 



Faculty and officers : Louis Lauer, Ger^ 
man; C. Gola, Music; Thomas L. Galleher, 
Vocal Music ; A. J. Volck, Drawing and Paint' 
ing; Miss Luella Kelly, English, BeHes-Lettres, 
and Physiology ; Miss Mary Boswell Chaney, 
English, Mathematics, and History; Mme. An- 
g^iqne Sixte, French; Mrs. £. A. Polster, 
Music ; Miss Jennie Dare Apperson, Music, 

Number of students. 111. 

LoTOLA College (Baltimore). (Report 
of 1872.) Founded 1852. President, Stephen 
A. Kelly. 

Faculty and other college officers : William 
F. Clarke, Treasurer; Peter L. Miller, Chap- 
lain ; John B. Gnida, Logic, Metaphysics, and 
Ethics ; George I. Strong, Natural Philosophy 
and Chemistry; Charles F. Kelly, Rhetoric and 
Poetry; Edwin J. Sourin, Prefect of the 
Church; Clement S. Lancaster, Humanities 
and Mathematics; John W. Rover, Humani- 
ties and Algebra ; Charles A. Leloup, Humani- 
ties and French ; John J. Maguire, Rudiments, 
English, and Arithmetic ; Charles C. Lancaster, 
Rudiments and Arithmetic; Thomas D. Bca- 
Yen, English and Arithmetic; Peter Schlenter, 
German ; Dominic O'Donnell, Physician, 

Number of students, 158. 

Mt. St. Mart's Collbob (Emmitsburg). 
Founded 1808. President John McCaffrey, 
(dso Professor of Rhetoric, 

Faculty and other college officers: John 
McCloskey, Vice-President and Treasurer; 
Henry S. McMurdie, Dogmatic Theology and 
Metaphysics ; John A. Watterson, Moral The- 
ology and Church History ; Charles H. Jourdan, 
Mathematics, Chemistry, and Natural Philos- 
ophy ; Ernest Lagarde, English Literature and 
Modem Languages; Joseph Black, Latin and 
Greek ; Henry Dielman, German and Music ; 
James D. Hickey, Drawing and Writing; 
James E. Mclntire, Latm and Greek; Wil- 
liam J. Hill, fjibrarian; Armand Lalaune, 
Languages and Mathematics, 

Number of students, 171. 

Rock Hill College (ElHcott City). 
(Report of 1872.) Founded 1857. Presi- 
dent, Brother Bettelin. 

Number of students, 166. 

St. Charles College (EUicott City). 
Founded 1 731 . President, S. Fert6. 

Faculty and other college officers : P. P. 
Denis, J. B. Menu, H. F. Griffin, H. M. 
Chapnis, G. E. Viger, S. Guiibaud, J. B. 
Vuibert, F. L. M. Dumont, M. Vignon, C. 
Schrantz. 

Number of students, 185. 



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DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA. 

CoLUMBiAH UwiVBRSiTT (Washington). 
Founded 1822. President, James C. Well- 
ing; ; also Professor of Moral and InteUeetual 
Pkiioeof^y, and Lecturer on History, 

Faculty and other college officem : William 
Buggies, Political Economy, and (Emeritas) 
Mathematics t and Natural PhUottophy ; Adoni- 
ram J. Hantington, Greek and Latin ; Samuel 
M. Sbute, English Language and Literature, 
Anglo-Saxon^ and Gei'man ; Edward T. Fris- 
toe, Chemistry, Physic^, Natural History, and 
Mathematics ; Henri Masson, French ; Roger 
W. Cull, Greek and Latin ; James H. Brem- 
merman, MatJiematics ; Otid T. Mason, Prin^ 
cipal Preparatory Department, 

Law faculty : J. C. Welling, Lecturer on 
English Literature; Samuel Tyler, John C. 
Kennedy, Intsructors ; John Ordronaux, Medi- 
cal Jurisprudence; William B. Lawrence, 
International Law, 

Medical faculty : Thomas Miller (Emeritus), 
Anatomy and Physiology; Creorgo C. Schsefibr 
(Emeritus), Chemistry; William P. Johnston 
(Emeritus), Obstetncs, and Diseases of Women 
atul Children; George M. Dove (Emeritas), 
Theory and Practice of Medicine; A. T. P. 
Garnett (Emeritus), Clinical Medicine; John 
C. Riley (Dean of Faculty), Materia Medica 
and Therapeutics; J. Ford Thompson, Sur- 
gery ; W. W. Johnston, Theory and Practice 
of Medicine; A. F. A. King, Obstetrics, and 
Diseases of Women and Children ; Edward T. 
Fristoe, Chemistry and Toxicology; William 
B. Drinkard, Anatomy; William Lee, P/ufsi" 
ology; Z. T. Savers, Demonstrator of Anatomy, 
and Curator of Museum, 

Number of students, 266. 



Gbobqbtown Colleob (Georgetown). 
Founded 1792. President, John Early. 

Faculty and officers: Patrick F. Healy, 
Vice-President cmd Prefect of Studies ; Anthony 
J. Ciampi, Christian Doctrine; William 
Loaguc, First Prefect of Discipline; John S. 
Sumner, Librarian and Chaplain; Joseph 
Duvemey, Moral Theology ; John B. Guida, 
Rational Philosophy; James Coriey, Botany, 
also Director of Observatory ; George I. Strong, 
Physics and Mathematics; Daniel J. Kelly, 
Chemistry and Mathematics; Edmund J. 
Young, Rhetoric; Charies F. Kelly, Poetry 
and French; Clement L. Lancaster, Gram- 
mar; Patrick J. Gallagher, Grammar; Jerome 
Daugherty, Grammar; Richard R. McMahon, 
William F. Byms, John T. Hedrick, Assistant 
Profestors; Frederick L. Apel, German; 



Geoiige F. Benkert, Music; Charles Heln, 
Draunng, 

Medical department : Noble Toung, Medi- 
cine^ Pathology, and Medical Ethics ; Flodoardo 
Howard, Obstetrics, and Diseases of Women 
and Children; Johnson Eliot, Surgery and 
Surgical Anatomy ; James E. Moigan, Materia 
Medica, Therapeutics, and Medical Jurispru- 
dence ; Lewis Mackall, Physiology; John G. 
F. Holtiton, Anatomy ; Benjamin S. Hedrick, 
Chemistry and Toxicology; Warwick Evans, 
Demonstratxfr ; Howard H. Barker, Prosecutor ; 
Daniel P. Hickling, Pharmacy. 

Law department : Charles P. James, Law 
of Real and Personal Property ; Samuel F. 
Miller, Equity and Constitutional Law ; J. Hub- 
ley Ashton, Pleading, Practice, and Evidence ; 
Charles W. Hoffman, Secretwyand Treasurer, 

Number of students, 280. 

GoNZAGA Colleob (Washington). (Re- 
port of 1872.) Founded 1848. President, 
James Clark. 

Faculty and other college officers : Danid 
Lynch, Prefect ; Edward Boone, Latin, Greth, 
and French; Charles W. Hoffman, Latin, 
Greek, and Mathematics ; Edward S. Reily, 
Latin, Greek, and Algebra ;Char\ca W. O'Lea- 
ry, Latin, Arithmetic, and Book-keeping; 
Edward Donnelly, Tutor; John Maboney, 
Tutor; P. Croghan, PA^cian. 

Number of students, 143. 

Howard Univbrsitt (Washington> 
Founded 1867. President, Oliver O. How- 
ard. 

Professors: William F. Bascom, Greek 
and Latin; Eliphalet Whittlesey, Rhetoric^ 
English Literature, Evidences of Christianity ; 
John M. Langston, Law; Albert G. Riddle, 
Law; Robert Reybum, Surgety; Joseph 
Taber Johnson, Obitetrics ; Gideon S. Palmer, 
Physiology and hygiene ; Charles B. Funrb, 
Materia Medica and Medical Jurisprudence; 
Phineas H. Strong, Medicine ; Alexander T. 
Augusta, Anatomy ; John B. Reeve, Biblical 
Theology ; Amzi L. Barber, Natural Philoso- 
phy; Melville C. Wilkinson, Military Inspec- 
tor and Commander of Cadets; Cyrus S. 
Richards, Pnncipal of Preparatory Depart- 
ment ; Danforth B. Nichols, Librarian, Curator 
of Cabinet, Biblical Gcograj>hy, and AntiquitiLS ; 
Lorenzo Westcott, Mathematics and Biili- 
cal Introduction; William C. Tilden, Chem- 
istry ; J. Eames Rankin, Homifetics and Pas- 
toral Theology ; John G. Butler, Sacred His- 
tory; John M. Brown, Ecclesiastical History; 
George W. Mitchell, Tutor; M. £. Goldberge, 



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Bdrrew; Jonah Holbrook, Principal Normal 
DepartmaU; Miss Maria R. Mann, First As- 
$atont; Miss A. C. Bowen, Second Assisiantf 
in charge of the Normal SdiooL 
Number of students, 248. 

VIBJGINIA. 

CoLLBOB OF William awd Mabt (Wil- 
liamiboTg). Foonded 1693. President, Ben- 
jamin S. Ewcll ; aUo Professor of Natural and 
Experimental PhUoeopiiy and Mixed Mathemat- 
ics. 

Facnltj: George T. Wilraer, 3/ora/ and 
IMeetaal Philosophy and Belles-Lettres ; 
Thonns P. McCandlish, Latin, French, and 
Bonan and Frendi History ; L. B. Wharton, 
Greekf Germany and Grecian and German His- 
Ury; T. T. L. Snead, Mathematics; Richard 
A. Wise, Chemistry, Geology, and Physiology ; 
Wilmer Turner. Master of the Grammar and 
'* Matty" School 

Komber of students, 74. 

EvoRT AND Hbvbt Collbob (Emory). 
Founded 1838. President, Ephraim E. 
Wiley ; ako Professor of Mental and Moral 
Saena, 

Facolty : Edmund Longlej, English Litera- 
tsre and Modem Languages, also Librarian ; 
James A. Daris, Natwral and Experimental 
Sdenee, also Curator of Museum"; John L. 
Biehanan, Ancient Languages and Literature ; 
Charles E. Vawter, Mathematics and Hebrew ; 
Joseph H. Ranson, Mathematics; Daniel H. 
Atkins, Andeat Languages, 

Knmber of students, 180. 



Canon Law ; J. J. McElhinney, Apologetics, 
Church Polity, and Greek Exegesis, 
Number of students, 48. 

Randolph Macon College (Ashland). 
Founded 1831. President, James A. Dun- 
can. 

Number of students, 220. 

Richmond College (Richmond). Found- 
ed 183». Chairman of the faculty, B. Pur- 
year ; also Professor of Natwral Sciences. 

Faculty and other college officers : Edmund 
Harrison, Latin and French; H. H. Harris, 
Greek and German ; Edward B. Smith, Mathe- 
matics ; J. L. M. Curry, English and Moral 
Philosophy; L. Gwathmey, Assistant Instruc- 
tor ; W. A. Maury, Law ; G. Morris Nicol, 
Commercial Department ; Z. B. Herndon, Phys- 
iology and Hygiene. 

Number of students, 195. 

RoAKOKB College (Salem, Roanoke 
County). Founded 1853. President, D. F. 
Bittle ; also Professor of Moral and Intellec- 
tual Philosophy » 

Faculty and other college officers : S. Car- 
son Wells, Mathematics and Natural Philoso- 
phy; William B. Yonce, Ancient Languages 
and Literature; John B. Davis, Natural 
Science ; J. J. Moorman, Physiology and Hy- 
giene; Julius D. Dreher, Ancient Languages, 
and English Languages and Literature ; John 
T. Crabtree, Languages; Marcellus M. Har- 
grove, Special Departments; L. R. Holland, 
Normal Department. 

Number of students, 160. 



Haxfdeh Sidney Collbob (Prince Ed- 
ward County). Founded 1776. President, 
J. M. P. Atkinson ; also Professor of Moral 
PiUosophy and Political Economy. 

Faculty : L. L. Holladay, Phy§ical Science, 
alto Curator, and Clerk of the Faculty ; Walter 
Blair, Latin and German, also Librarian ; Dela- 
ware Kemper, Mathematics and Civil Engineer- 
isg ; Addison Hoge, Greek and French. 

Number of students, 91. 

PlOTBSTANT EPISCOPAL THEOLOGICAL 

Skhdiabt in Viboinia (near Alexandria, 
F. 0; address as above, "Fairfax County, 
Vt.**). Founded 1823. President, John 
Johns ; also Professor of Pastoral Theology. 

Faculty : William Sparrow, Systematic Di- 
vinity and Evidences of Christianity; Joseph 
Packard, Biblical Learning, also Librarian; 
ComeliQs Walker, Ecclesiastical History and 



. Virginia Militabt Institute (Lexing- 
ton). Founded 1839. Superintendent, Fran- 
cis H. Smith ; also Professor of Mathematics 
and Moral Philosophy. 

Academic staff: J. T. L. Preston, Latin 
and English Literature ; Thomas H. William- 
sonj Practical Engineering, Architecture, and 
Drawing; William Gilham, Professor of Agri- 
culture; Robert L. Madison, Animal and 

Vegetable Physiology applied to Agriculture ; 
Scott Ship (Commandant of Cadets), Tactics, 
and Military History and Strategy ; William B. 
Blair, Natural Philosophy ; John M. Brooke, 
Astronomy, Geodesy, Geography, and Meteorol- 
ogy ; Marshall McDonald, Gedogy, Mineralogy, 
and Metallurgy; M. B. Hardin, Chemistry; 
Thomas M. Semmes, Modem Languages; 
John W. Lyell, Mathematics. 

Assistant professors : W. E. Cutshaw, Civil 
and Military Engineering; J. H. Morrison, 



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Chemistry, Mineralogy, and Geology; Rich- 
ard Brooke, French and Tactics; R. P. W. 
Morris, Mathematics and Tactics; A. Sullivan, 
Latin and Tactics; Alexander Hamilton, 
Latin and Tactics ; J. R. Anderson ; Latin, 
Geography, and Tactics; J. B. Marvin, Chem- 
istry and Geography. 
Number of students^ 275. 

Washiwgtow awd Leb Univbrsitt 
(Lexington). Founded 1782. President, Q. 
W. Custis Lee. 

Faculty and other college officers : Carter 
J. Harris, Latin ; James J. White, Greek ; 
Edward S. Joynes, Modem Lariguages ; J. L. 
Kirkpatrick, Moral Philosophy; William 
Preston Johnston, History and Political Econ- 
omy; Alexander L. Nelson, Mathematics; 
William Allan, Applied A/a<Aemaiics; Richard 
S. McCulloch, Natural Philosophy ; John L. 
Campbell, Chemistry; N. A. PraU, Applied 
Chemistry; John W. Brockenbrough, Com^ 
nionand Statute Law; J. Randolph Tucker, 
Equity a-d Public Law ; M. W. Humphreys, 
Ancient Languages ; Charles A. Graves, Eng- 
lish and Modem Languages; B. Harrison 
Waddell, A/oMematics; William M. Dunlap, 
Apfilied Mathematics; William Edmonds, 
Latin; William D. Vinson, Greek; Ernest 
B. Kruttschnitt, History; William Dold, 
Librarian and Clerk ; Walter Bowie, Proctor. 

Number of students, 263. 

TJwiVBRSiTT OF VIRGINIA (Charlottes- 
ville). Founded 1825. Chairman of the 
faculty, Charles S. Venable; also Professor 
of Mathematics. 

Faculty and other college officers: James 
L. Cabell, Physiology and Surgery ; M. Scheie 
de Vere, Modem Languages ; William H. Mc- 
Guflfey, Moral Philosophy; John B.Minor, Law; 
Francis H. Smith, NaJtwral Philosophy; John 
Staige Davis, Anatomy and Materia Medica ; 
Basil L. Gildersleeve, Greek; George Freder- 
ick Holmes, History, Literature, and Political 
Economy; Stephen 0. Southall, Law; Wil- 
liam E. Peters, Latin; James F. Harrison, 
Medicine and Gtistetrics ; John W. Mallet, 
Chemistry and Pharmacy ; Leopold J. Boeck, 
Applied Mathematics and Cioil Engineering; 
John R. Page, Natural History and Agricul- 
ture; Frank P. Dnnington, Analytical and 
Agricultural Chemistry; William B. Towles, 
iMmonstrator of Anatomy; William- Mynn 
Thornton, Mathematics; Albert Folke, Ap- 
plied Mathematics and Drawing ; W. C. Gross- 
man, Modem Languages ; J. Podbielski, Modem 
Languages; William Wertenbaker, Librarian 



and Secretary ; Green Peyton, Proctor ; Mason 
Gordon, Commissioner of Accounts; T. D. 
Withcrspoon, Chaplain. 
Number of students, 342. 

WEST VIRGINIA. 

Bethant Collbob (Bethany). Founded 
1841. President, W. R. Pendleton; also 
Professor of Sacred History and Philosophy and 
Belles-Lettres. 

Faculty and other college officers : Charles 
Louis Loos, Languages, also Secretary of Fac- 
ulty; H. Wilson Harding, Mathematics, As- 
tronomy , and Engineering, also Librarian; A. 
Emerson Dolbear, Natural Sciences, also Cu- 
rator of Museum ; E. D. Barclay, Mathematics 
and Ancient Languages ; Robert Kidd, Elocu- 
tion. 

Number of students, 133. 

Whbblino Female Collegb (Wheeling). 
Founded 1850. President, William H. Mor- 
ton; also Professor of Mental and Moral 
Science. 

Faculty : J. A. McEwen, Natuixd Sciences; 
Miss F. J. Duty, Belles-Lettres; Miss Mary 
M. Hallowell, Classics and Higher Mathematics; 
Miss Julia Hnmphreville, Mathematics ; Miss 
Dora P. Hervey, History and Botany; Miss 
lasie A. Clark, English Branches ; MiiS Eme- 
line Armstrong, English Branches; Miss Ida 
H. Roeeman, Preparatory Department; Mias 
Mai^retta Doddridge, French; F. C. H. 
Lambe, Carman; Robert Kidd, Elocution; 
Miss M. Doddridge, Principal Music and Art 
Department; Miss Theresa Doddridge, Instru- 
mental Music; Miss Lanra T. McEeazie, 
Instrumental Music ; Mrs. M. W. Walker, Vocal 
Music, Guitar, and Harp ; Mrs. Lucy Wilkin- 
son, Drawing and Painting; Miss Nettie 
Ogden, Drawing and Fancy Needlework. 

Number of students, 200. 

GEORGIA. 

Georgia Femalb Coltagb (Madison). 
Founded 1849. President, George Y. Browne. 

Faculty : Mrs. George Y. Browne, Presid- 
ing Teacher ; Mrs. W, S. McHenry, Vocal and 
Instrumental Music; Mile. Julie Haas, Fren(A, 
German, and Music; Miss Kate H. Browne, 
Drawing and Painting, 

Number of students, 84. 

Medical College ofGborgia (Augus- 
ta). Founded 1830. Dean of faculty, L. 
A. Dugas; also Professor of Surgery. 

Faculty: I. P. Garvin (Emeritus), Materia 
Medica and Therapeutics; Lewis D. Ford, /n. 



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tiktOes and Praetiee of Medicine ; Joseph A. 
Ere, OUtetrics, and Diseases of Women and In-^ 
faatf: George W. Rains, Medical Chemistrif 
tad Pharmacy ; Hen 17 F. Campbell, Operative 
Smyenf and Surgical Anatpmy ; Edward Ged- 
dings. Physiology and PcUJiology ; DeSaussure 
Ford, Anatomy; William H. Dougbtjr, Mate- 
ria, Mtdica and Therapeutics ; Robert C. Eve, 
Anaiomicai Demonstrator and Prosector ; S. C. 
Eve, Clinical Assistant at Dispensary, 
Number of students, 97. 



KENTUCKY. 

BbreaColleoi (Berea). Founded 

President, E. H. Faircbild ; also Professor of 
Mental and Moral Philosophy. 

Facility and instructors: John G. Fee, 
Evidences of Christianity and Biblical Litera' 
tare; Rer. J. A. R. Rogers, Greek; Henry 
F. Cltrk, Latin ; Albert A. Wright, Chemis- 
try and Natural Science ; Henry R. Chitten- 
den, Principal Preparatory Department; Mrs. 
Joliec C. Clark, Principal Ladies* Department ; 
Mrs. Charloue M. White, Assistant Princi- 
pal; Miss Kate Gilbert, Grammar; Miss C. 
Elizabeth Halsart, Miss Ellen J. Hall, 
Teachers; Miss Anna M. Clark, Instrumented 
Jlmc, 

Number of students (men and women), 

BtTHEL CoLLEOB (Russellville). Found- 
ed 1849. President, Noah K. Davis ; also 
Prtftssor of Moral Science. 

Facnlty : Charles A. Fnrrman, Mathemat- 
its; John L. Dagc, Natural Science; Thomas 
W. Tobey, Latin and Greek ; Leslie Waggener, 
Eitglish Language and Literature; Samuel 
Baker, History ; W. W. Gardner, Systematic 
asd Pastoral Theology. 

Komber of students, 85. 

Kkntuckt Wesley aw Uhivbrsitt 
(MiUenburg). Founded 1866. President, 
B. Arbogast ; also Professor of Mental and 
Moral Philosophy. 

Facnlty: J. Varbj, Natural Sciences; A. G. 
Marphcy, Greek; Charles H. Theias, Mathe- 
matics; T. W. Jordan, Latin, 

Number of students, 102. 

Uhiybrsitt of Louisyillb (Louisville). 
Medical Department. Founded 1836. Dean 
of faculty, J. M. Bodine; also Professor of 
Anatomy. 

Facnlty: G. W. Bayless, Principles and 
Practice of Surgery ; L. P. Yandell, jun.. Ma- 



teria Medica and dinioal Medicine; E. R. 
Palmer, Physiology and Histology; T. S. Bell, 
Science and Practice of Medicine and Public Hy- 
giene ; John E Crowe, Obstetrics and Discuses 
of Women and Children ; James W. Holland, 
Medical Chemistry ana Toxicology ; David W. 
YandcU, Clinical Surgeiy ; U. O. Cowl in;;, 
Surgery and Demonstrator of Anatomy ; F. C. 
Wilson, Melvin Rhorer, W. 0. Roberts, J. II, 
Leslie, Assistant Demonstrators; H. A. Cot tell. 
Prosector and Curator. 

Faculty of law department (founded 
1846): Henry Pirtle, Constitutional Lau^ 
Equity^ and Commercial Law; Bland Bal- 
lard, Practice of Laiw and International Law; 
Thomas E. Bramlctte, History and Science of 
Law, Real Property, Contracts, Criminal Law, 

Number of students, 250. 

TENNESSEE. 

CuMBBRLAKB IJNiTBRdiTT (Lebanon). 
Founded 1842. President, B. W. McDon- 
nold; also Professor of Mental Scimce. 

Faculty: Alexander Erskine, Obstetrics 
and Diseases of Women; A. H. Buchanan, 
Mathematics; Benjamin W. Avent, Surgery ; 
Hon. Nathan Green, Law; Robert W. Mitch- 
ell, Materia Medica and Therapeutics ; Rich- 
ard Beard, Systematic Theology; Richard B. 
Maury, Medicine; R. L. Cam the rs, Law; 
Dudley D. Saunders, Anatomy; James M. 
Safibrd, Physical Science; J. Joseph Wil- 
liams, Physiology and Pathological Anatomy; 
William D. McLaughlin, Latin and Greek; 
Alfred H. Voorhies, Aural and Opkhalmic 
Surgery; D. S. Bodenhamer, Commercial 
College and Classical Preparatory; Felix Mc- 
Farland, Chemistry and Toxicology; Gusta- 
vus B. Thornton, Demonstrator of Anatomy; 
H. T. Norman, English Course ; Robert Thum- 
mel. Prosector; Thomas Toney, Book-keep- 
ing ; R. H. Anthony, Telegraphy, 
Number of students, 268. 

East Tennessee University and 
Agricultural and Mechanical Col- 
lege (Knoxville). Founded 1869. Presi- 
dent, Thomas W. Humes ; also Professor of 
Mental Science. 

Faculty : John Kerr Payne, Maihenuxtics and 
Natural Philosophy; Frederick D. Allen, 
Latin and Greek; Richard L. Kirkpatrick, 
English ; Hunter Nicholson, Agriculture and 
Horticylture ; Frank H. Bradley, Mineralogy 
and Geology; Wilbur O. Atwatcr, General 
and Agricultural Chemistry ; L>aac B. Barker, 
French and Gemum ; Thomas T. Thorn burg. 
Military Science and Tactics; Charles S. 



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Newman, Principal Preparatory Department; 
Albert Ruth and L. Van-Fossen, Instructors; 
G. R. Enabc, Singing; F. G. Hacker» Draw- 
ing. 
Number of students, 228. 

Unitersitt op the South (Sewanee). 
Founded 1868. Chancellor, W. M. Green. 

Faculty ; J. Gor^^as, Engineering and Phys- 
ics; Caskie Harrison, Greek; Hugh Craig, 
Latin; F. A. Shonp, Mathematics^ also 
Hebrew, Greek, and Exegesis; Robert Dab- 
ney, Metaphysics and English Literature ; John 
B. Elliott, Chemisti-y; W.P. DuBose, Ethics 
and Evidences of Christianity, and Pastoral 
Theology, also Chaplain, F. Schaller, Modem 
Languages ; Thomas Williamson, Head Mas- 
ter of Grammar School ; W. F. Grabau, Music; 
Robert DuBose, Assistant. 

Number of students, 223. 

MISSISSIPPI. 

Chickasaw Fbmalb Collbob (Ponto- 
toc). Founded 1854. President, P. F. 
Witherspoon. 

Faculty: Emma S. Witherspoon, Sarah 
N. Miller, Mira J. White, Mary C. Morrison, 
Mary A Clopton, L. J. Pearson. 

Number of students. 94. 

ToKOALOO Univerhitt (Tongaloo). 
Founded 1869. President, J. K. Nutting; 
also Preceptor in Theology and the Pastoral 
Charge. 

Faculty : A. J. Steele, Nornud Department, 
Teaching; Miss Mary Smith, Miss Ceiestia 
Bailey, Assistants; J. K. Decring, Intermedi- 
ate Department; Miss Laura Tucker, Assist- 
ant; Miss H. C. Buliard, Primary Depart- 
ment; Mrs. A. J. Steele, Music, also Latin; 
S. C. Osborne, Agriculture and Mechanics, 
also Business Manager. 

Number of students, over 200. 

TEXAS. 

Baylor University (Independence). 
Wounded 1845. President, William Cai-ey 
Crane; also Professor of Ethics and Belles- 
Lettres. 

Faculty : R. E. B. Baylor, Political Econ- 
omy and Constitutional Law ; Charles Judson 
Crnnc, Mathematics and Natural Science; 
Charles F. Jensen, German; H. C. F. 
Schmidt, Civil Engineering ; Harris T. Green, 
English : H. A. McArdle, Drawing, 

Number of students, 135. 



MICHIGAN. 



Adrian Colleoe (Adrian). Fonnded 
1859. Acting President, A. H. Lowrie ; also 
Professor of History and English Literatvr^^ 

Faculty and other college officers : 6. B. 
McElroy, Mathematics and Astronomy ; I. W. 
Cassell, Latin and Greek; J. M. Thomson, 
Music ; Mrs. Martha B. Lowrie, Frendi ; D. 
S. Stephens, Logic and Rhetoric; W. L. Pen- 
field, German, Latin, and Greek; I. W. Mo- 
Keever, Natural Science ; Miss M. Ada Shri- 
ver. Painting and Drawing; Miss Ida T. 
Wilkes, Vocal Music. 

Number of students (men and women), 
155. 

Albioh Collbob (Albion). Founded 
1843. President, George B. Jocelyn ; also 
Professor of Moral and Intellectual Philosophy. 

Faculty; W. H. Perrine, History, Belles- 
Lettres and Art; J. H. Hopkins, Latin; M. 
W. Darling, Greek ; J. H. Fassett, Mathemat- 
ics; William M. Osband, Natural Sciences; 
Mrs. Lucy A. Osband, Preceptress and Profes- 
sor of Modem Languages; Mbs Juliet Brad- 
bury, Instrumental Music ; Miss Kate A. 11 
Belknap, Vocal Music. 

Number of students (men 116, women 
110), 216. 

Hillsdale College (Hillsdale). Found- 
ed 1855. President, Daniel M. Graham; 
also Professor of Menial Philosophy and Bibli- 
eal Literature. 

Faculty: Ransom Dunn, Systematic and 
Pastoral Theology ; Spencer J. Fowler, Mathe- 
matics and Natural Philosophy ; George Mc- 
Millan, Greek and Latin; F. Wayland Dunn, 
Rhetoric and Belles- Lettres ; Daniel M. Fisk, 
Chemistry and Natural History; John S. 
Copp, Ecdesiasticcd History and Homiletics; 
H. Lanra Rowe, Principal of the Ladies* De- 
partment ; Miss Mary A. Stratton, Assist- 
ant Principal; Mrs. Alma H. Fisk, Frendi 
and German ; Alexander C. Rideout, Princi- 
pal of Commercial Department, Commercial 
Law; Warren A. Drake, Commercial Arith- 
metic and Penmanship; George B. Gardner, 
Painting and Drawing; Melville W. Chase, 
Instrumental and Vocal Music ; Mrs. Olive C. 
C^ase, Cultivation of the Voice. 

Number of students (men and women), 
606. 

Kalamazoo College (Kalamazoo). 
Founded 1855. President, Kendall Brooks ; 
also Professor of Moral and Intellectual Phi- 
losophy. 



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Ftenltj and Other college ofilcen : Samuel 
Brookfl, Latifi oMi Phfsiodl Scienoe, also 
Libranem ; Austin George, Engluh Literatim; 
LewU Smart, Greek ^E. J. W. McEwen, 
Gtrwun and French; Miaa Kate Brearlej, 
Lady Principal; Mrs. L. U. Trowbridge, 
Mitsk ; Mi«8 Ellen Price, Painting and Draw- 
UM7; Miss Marj Brearlej, Preparatory De- 
partment ; T. Z. R. Jones, AsiiMtant Librarian ; 
J. R. Grenell, Janitor. 

Number of stodents (men and women), 198. 

OuTET CoLLBOB (Olivet). Fonndcd b 

Acting President, John H. Hewitt, also Pro- 
fmor (^ Latin, and Instructor in English Lite- 
ratwre, 

Facoltj: Oramel Hosford, Astronomy and 
Natwrai Pkilooophy, also Teaching; Joseph L. 
Daniels, Greek and German; Alexander B. 
Brown, Music; Charles P. Chase, Mathemat- 
kt; J. T. Scorell, Chemistry and Natural 
Sdetee; George H. Ashlej, Latin and His- 
tory; Miss Henrietta P. Dennis, Principal oj 
Ladies' Department and Instmdor in French ; 
Miss Annie M. Benedict, Mathematics ; Miss 
Harriet M. Drake, Latin and English ; Miss 
Ctroline £. Skinner, Piano; Charltt O. 
Brown, Penmanship and Book-keeping, ' 

Nomber of students (men and women), 
307. 

Statb Aobicultubal Collbob of 

MiCHiOAV (Lansing). Founded . Presl- 

dent, T. C. Abbot, also Profisoor of Mental 
Philosophy <»nd Logic 

Facultj: Manly Miles, Practical Agricul- 
ture^ also Farm Superintendent; R. C. Ked- 
sie. Chemistry; George T. Fairchild, English 
Literature, also Librarian; Albert J. Cook, 
ZotHogy and Entomclgy ; William J. Beal, Bot- 
any and Horticulture ; William K. Kedzie, 
Chemistry ; Edwin H. Hume, Foreman of the 
Farm ; ^— White, Assistant ; James Sharkej, 
Gardener; Peter Felker, Foreman of the Gar- 
dens. 

Noaber of stodents, 131. 

UvrrBRBiTT ov MiOHiOAK (Ann Arbor). 
Founded 1841. President, James B. Angell. 

FtcnltY and officers : George P. Williams, 
Physics ; Abram Sager, Obstetrics ; Silas H. 
Boogiaas, Chemistry; Ak^zo B. Palmer, 
Pathology and Practice of Medicine ; Corydon 
L. Ford, Anatomy and Physiology ; Henry S. 
Frien, Latin; James V. Campbell, Law; 
Charles L Walker, Law ; Thomas M. Cooley, 
Jjxw; Jamef C. Watson, Astronomy; Edward 
Olney, Mathematics; Andrew Ten Brook, 



LSrrarian; Charles K. Adams, History; 
Charles A. Kent, Law ; Benjamin F. Cocker, 
Moral and Mental Philosophy; Albert B. 
Prescott, Chemistry and Pharmacy ; Martin L. 
D'Ooge,6rrceifc; Henry S. Chaevcr, Therapeu- 
ticSf Materia Medica, and Physiology ; George 
S. Morris, Modem Languages and Literature ; 
Charles E. Greene, Civil Engineering ; George 
£. Froth ingham, Anatomy, Ophthalmology, and 
Aural Surgery ; George B. Merriman, Physics ; 
Edward L. Walter, Latin ; Albert H. Patten- 
gill, Greek; Donald Maclean, Surgery; 
Joseph B. Davis, Civil Engineering ; Preston 
B. Rose, Chemistry; Mark W. Harrington, 
Geology, Zodlogy and Botany ; P. R. B. De 
VoxiX, French ; Wooster W. Bcman, Mathe- 
matics; Robert Harbison, Modern Languages 
and Literature ; Francis A. Blackburn, Latin ; 
Marcos Baker, Mathematics; Charles S. 
Denison, Engineering and Drawing ; Isaac N. 
Demmon, Mathematics ; Harry B. Hutchins, 
History and Rhetoric; Alfred Henneqnin, 
French, 
Number of students, 1,163. 

OHIO. 

Aktioch Collkoe (Yellow Springs). 

President, Edward Orton, also Professor of 
Geology and Zodlogy, 

Faculty: George W. Hosmer, History, 
Etfiics, and Intellectual Phylosophy; John B. 
Weston, Greek; Samuel C. Derb^, Latin; 
Charles H. Chandler, Physics and Mathemat- 
ics; G. S. Hall, Rhetoric and English Litera- 
ture ; J. Y. Bergen, jun., Analytical Chemistry ; 
Mrs. J. H. Harris, Matron ; Mrs. Achsah E. 
Weston, Miss Laura A. Peacock, Miss L. A. 
Scott, Assistants in Preparatory School, 

Number of students (men and women), 

Baldwin University (Berea). Founded 
1846. President, W. D. Godman; u'so Pro- 
fessor of Mental and Moral Science, 

Faculty : William C. Peirce, Chemistry and 
Natural History; Aaron Schuyler, Applied 
Mathematics and Logic; John W. White, 
Greek; Albert D. Knapp, Latin; Elizabeth 
Hall, French Language and English Liteixtture ; 
Ellen H. Warner, Pwe Mathematics; Man in 
V. B. Clark, Pharmacy^ Materia Medica, and 
Applied Chemistry; Martha Baldwin Flan- 
nery. Painting; Mrs. M. B. Knapp, Lan- 
auages; Frank M. Davis, Instrumented Music ; 
H. J. Kroenke, Principal of Commercial De- 
partment, 

Number of students (men and women), 
326. 



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Capital IJHnrBiisiTT (Columbns). (Re- 
port of 1872.) Foanded, President, 

William F. Lehmann ; also Professor of Ger- 
man and Theoloffy. 

Faculty and other college officers : T. Q. 
Wormley, Chemistry, Theology, and Natural 
History ; Emanuel Schmid, Latin and Greek ; 
M. Loy, Mental and Moral Science; John H. 
Spielman, History ; John M. Meissner, Tutor; 
George W. Lose, Tutor; Ch. Oehlschlager, 
Tutor. 

Namber of students, 66. 

Cincinnati Wesletan College for 
To UNO Women. Founded 1842. President, 
Lucius H. Bugbee ; also Prqfessor of Mental 
and Moral Science. 

Faculty : Charles C Bragdon, Latin and 
Greek ; Jules Luquiens, Modem Languages ; 
Catherine J. Chamberlayne, Lady Principal; 
LueUa Clark, Ethics and Criticism ; Lucy Her- 
ron Parker, Natural Science; Frances A. Fish, 
Mat/tematics ; Anna E. Fish, Englisli Litera- 
ture ; Eliza J. Allen, History and Mythology ; 
Charlotte S. Colby, Mathematics and Penman- 
ship; Anna H. Martin, Preparatory and 
Academic DepaHment ; iisry W. Richardson, 
Art; Joseph E. Locke, Science; Carl Barus, 
Principal of Department of Music, Vocal Music ; 
Arthur Mees, Instrumental Music; Augusta 
Hermann, Instrumental Music; Wilhelmine 
Moellmann, Instntmental Music. 

Number of students, 200. 

Dbnison Univebsitt (Granville). Found- 
ed 1831. President, Samson Talbot; also 
Professor of Moral and Intellectual Philosophy 
and Biblical Theology. 

Faculty and other officers : Fletcher O. 
Marsh, Mathematics and Natural Philosophy; 
John Stevens, Latin ; William A. Stevens, 
Greek; Alroon U. Thresher, Rhetoric and Eng- 
lish Literature, also Librarian ; Lewis E. Hicks, 
Natural Sciences ; Henry A. Rogers, Princi- 
pal Preparatory Departtnent ; Franklin A. Sla- 
ter, Mathematics ; Henry F. Burton, Classical 
Tutor, 

Numbor of students, 190. 

Eclectic Medical Institute (Cincin- 
nati). Founded 1826 ; chartered 1845. 

Faculty: John King, Obstetrics and Dis- 
eases of Women ; F. J. Locke, Materia Medica 
and Therapeutics ; 3 ohn M. Scudder, Patholo- 
gy and Practice of Medicine ; A. J. Howe, 
Surgery; Edwin Freeman, Anatomy; Z. Free- 
man, Clinical Medicine and Surgery; J. F. 
Judge, Chemistry and Physiology ; Thomas C. 
Hannah, Demonstrator of Anatomy, 

Number of students. *81. 



GiRMAH Wallaob Collbob (Berea). 
Founded 1863, from German Department of 
Baldwin University. President, W. Nast. 

Faculty: F. Schuter, Vice-President; A. 
L5henstein, Biblical UteraJtwre ; Karl Rieinen- 
sehneider. Ancient Languages ; Philipp Wack- 
er. Modern Languages and Music. 

Number of students (men and women), 
102. 

Glenbalb Fbmalb Collbob (Glendale). 
Founded 1855. President, Ludlow D. Pot- 
ter. 

Faculty: Miss Ellen Wiley (Lady Princi- 
pal), Rhetoric, English Literature, fv.; John 
Gosman, Ancient Languages, Natural Science, 
Astronomy; MissAaenath Cox, Malhemat i es, 
Latin, Physiology,^.; Miss Eliza D. Bon- 
nell, LaUn^ English Grammar, Mathematics; 
Miss Sarah F. Furman, Latin, History ; Miss 
Lnoelia Wakefield, Mathematics, Latin, 4(x. ; 
Miss Eugenia Birdsall, Drawing and Paint- 
ing; Mad'Ue Louise Valois, French and Ger- 
man; Miss Anna Klauczek, Instrumental 
Music; Miss Julia L. Spring, Vocal Music 
and Guitar; Miss H. Louise Tayk>r, Instru- 
mental Music, Organ, 

NAnber of students, 106. 

G&AMTiLLB Female Colleoe (Granville). 
Founded 1833. Principals, George M. Web- 
ster, also Professor of Meiaphyiscs, Ethics, 
Evidences, Anglo-Saxon, Greek; Mrs. Eliza- 
beth J. Webster. 

Faculty : Calvin C. Merriott, Latin, Mathe- 
matics, Botany, Logic ; Miss Mary A. Lin- 
nell, Latin, Mathematics, Science, History; 
Miss M. Elizabeth Abbot, English and Ger- 
man, Rhetoric, Mathematics ; Miss C. Loaise 
Johnson, Painting, Crayoning, Drawing, 
French ; Mrs. Emma McCune, Penmanship ; 
Mrs. Mary Abbott Thresher, Organ, Piano, 
Vocal Culture; Mrs. W. F. Kumier, Piano, 
Vocal Culture; Mrs. Mary T. Bryan, Primary 
Department. 

Number of students (men and women), 
109. 

Hbidelbebo College (Tiffin). Founded 
1850. President, George W. Williard ; also 
Professor of Intellectual and Moral Philosophy, 
Logic, History, and Evidences of Christicmity. 

Faculty and •thcr college officers: J. H. 
Good, Dogmatic and Practical Theology ; Her- 
man Rust, Exegetical and Historical Theology; 
R. Good, Natural Sciences ; O. A. S. Hnrsh, 
Latin and Greek; C. Homung, Mathematics 
and Mechanical Philosophy; P. Greding, Ger- 
man and French; A. S. Zerbe, Latin and 



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Greek; J. V. Lerch, Penmanship and Draw- paraioiy Department; John L. Davis, Tutor; 

wg, Cyrufl A. Bentley, Vocal Music; William 

Number of students (men and women), Holden, Librarian and Curator of Cabinet. 

144. Nnmberof students, 190. 



Hillsborough Female Colleob (Hills- 
boroagb). (Report of 1 872. ^ Founded 1855. 
President, David Copeland ; also Professor of 
Ancient Languages, and Menial and Moral 
Sdenoe. 

Faculty and other college officers: Sarah 
W. Copeland, Governess; Olive S. Prentice, 
Mathematics, Belles-Lettres, and French ; Geot ge 
Heidelberg, Music; Clara Blinn, Painting 
and Drawing; Frances McRejnolds, English 
Branches; Laura J. Santee, Assistant; AKce 
Hddelbei^, Music; Jane Rapp, Waxwork, 

Nomber of students (women), 94. 

Hiram CoLLBOB (Hiram). Founded 1849. 
President, Burke A. Hinsdale; also Professor 
<f Philosophy, History, and Biblical Literature. 

Faculty: Grove £. Barber, Greek and 
Latin ; Wilson S. Atkinson, Mathematics and 
Astronomy; Fdmund B. Wakefield, Natural 
Sdemces ; Osmer C. Hill, Principal Commer- 
cial and Chirographic Department ; A. J. Squire, 
Chemistry and Physiology; Mrs. Marietta 
Coscadcn, Principal Ladies* Department ; Mis. 
Mary C. Hinsdale, German; Mrs. J. C. Ellis, 
Instrumental Music. 

Number of stadeota (men and women), 
a02. 

Kbrton Colleob (Gambler). Founded 
. 1824. President, Eli T. Tappan ; also Pro- 
fessor of Mental and Moral Philosophy. 

Faculty and other college officers: John 
Trimble, Greek; Edward C. Benson, Latin, 
sUso Librarian; Theodore Sterling, Natural 
Philosophy and Chemistry ; George A. Strong, 
EngUsh LiUrature, History, and Rhetoric ; Greg- 
ory T. Bedell, Theology; Morris A. Tyng, 
Biblioal Literature and Hebrew; William B. 
Bodine, Chaplain ; Andrew L. Ralston, Tutor; 
John G. Black, Grammar School. 

Komber of students, 72. 

Uaribtta Colleob (Marietta). Found- 
ed 1835. President, Israel W. Andrews ; also 
Prsfessor of Intellectual and Political PhUoso- 

Facnlty and other collegeofficers : John Ken- 
drick, Greek; Ebenezer B. Andrews, Geology ; 
George R. Roseeter, Mathematics, Natural 
Philosophy, and Astronomy ; John JL. Mills, 
Lttin; David E. Beach, Moral Philosophy and 
Bhetoric; WilUam B. Graves, Natural 
Seiesees ; GeorgQ R. Gear, Principal of Pre- 



Miami Universitt (Oxford). Founded 
1809. President, Andrew D. Hepburn ; a/so 
Professor of Philosophy and Literature. 

Faculty and other college officers : Robert 
H. Bishop, Latin; Robert W. McFarland, 
Mathematics and Astronomy ; Henry S. Osborn, 
Natural Science; James D. Coleman, Greek; 
H. B. McClure, Preparatory Department. 

Number of students, 110. 

Mount Union Colleob (Alliance). 
Founded 1846. Chartered 1858. President, 
O. N. Hartshorn ; cdso Professor of Moral and 
Mental Philosophy. 

Faculty : L 0. Chapman (Vice-President), 
Mathematics and Civil Engineering ; George W. 
Clarke, Latin and Greek; E. N. Hartshorn, 
Didactics, Commercial Science, and Actual 
Business; James A. Brush, Chemistry and 
Logic, and Librarian; Gustave A. Scherf, 
German and French ; T. Armstrong, Penman" 
ship ; William Armstrong, Instrumented Music 
and Voice Culture; R. E. Hudson, Vocal 
Music; D. S. Evans, Fine Arts; Miss Flora 
Tanneyhill, Painting and Drawing; Rev. 
Homer J. Clark, English Literature; H. D. 
Gould, English Branches; Adrian J. Ebell, 
Botany, Zoiflogy, and Physical Culture; William 
Hunter, Sacred Literature; R. Johnson, Busi- 
ness and Commercial Ethics ; J. W. F. White, 
CommercieU Law; Mro. I. O. Chapman, Pre- 
ceptress Ladies* Department; B. U. Jacob, 
Curator of Museum. 

Oberlin Colleob (Oberlin). Founded 
1834. President, James H. Fairchild ; also 
Professor of Theology and Moral Philosophy. 

Faculty: Charles G. Finney, Pastoral 
Theology ; John Morgan, New Testament Lite- 
rature and Biblical Theology; James Das- 
comb, Chemistry, Botany, and Physiology, also 
Librarian ; John M. Ellis, Mental Philosophy 
and Rhetoric; Charles H. Churchill, Mathe- 
matics and Natural Philosophy ; Judson Smith, 
Church and General History ; Giles W. Shurt- 
leff, Latin; Roselle T. Cross, Principal of 
Preparatory Department ; Hiram Mead, Sacred 
Rhetoric ; William H. Ryder, Greek ; John B. 
Perry, Geology and Natural History, and Lec- 
turer on Religion and Science ; Fenelon B. Rice, 
Music; Elijah P. Barrows, Hebrew and Old 
Testament' Literature ; Henry Cowles, Pro;>Ae- 
cy; A. Hastings Ross, Church Polity ; Alraon 
W. Burr, Latin; James R. Severance, Elocu- 



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tton; Char lea N. Jones, Mathematics; Moritz 
Ernst Eversz, German ; Theodore E. Burton, 
Greek; Samuel E. Eastman, Latin; Thomas 
A. Hall, Arithmetic; Lyman B. Hall, Gram- 
mar ; Edward E. Kelaey, Piano; Mrs. A. A. F. 
Johnston, Principal of Ladies* Department; 
Miss Helen E. Mtatin^ Assistant Piincipal; 
Mrs. Helen M. Rice, Vocal Music ; Miss L. 
Celestia ^Wattles, Piano; Miss Anna M. 
W jett, Drawing and Painting. 

Kamber of students (men and women), 
1,171. 

Ohio Fbmalb Collbob (College Hill). 
Founded 1851. Alfred E. Sloan, President; 
also Professor of Elocution, 

Faculty : Lepha N. Clarke (Lady-Prindpal), 
Mental and Moral Philosophy; Herbert J. 
Cook, Classics, Physics, and Mathematics ; W. 
W. Colraery, Logic, Evidences of Christianity, 
and kindred Studies; Eliza H. Anstin, English 
Literature, Rhetoric, and Composition; DoraF. 
Crossette, Latin, Mathematics, Astronomy, and 
American Literature; Mary J. Bannister, Chem- 
istry. Geology, Botany, and Physiology; M. Jen- 
nie Davidson, Penmanship, History, Geography, 
and Grammar; Ferdinand Schuler, Music; 
Helen M. Fletcher, Foca/i/iotc; Emily Cutler, 
Draunng and Painting; Bertha E. Metz, French, 
German, Italian, and Gymnastics; Charles P. 
Wilson, Superintendent; Mrs. C. P. Wilson^ 
Matron; Belle Patton, Assistant Matron. 

Number of students, 107. 

Ohio Uxivbbsitt (Athens). Founded 

. Acting President, W. H. ScotI; also 

Professor of Intellectual and Moral Science. 

Board of instructors: W. H. G. Adney, 
Mineralogy, Chemistry, and Geology; J. L. Hat- 
field, Latin ; D. M. Blair, Mathematics ; John 
M. Davis, Tutor in Greek and Latin, 

Number of students (men and women), 
110. 

Ohio Wesletah Univbksitt (Dela- 
ware). (Report of 1872.) Founded 1843. 
President, Frederick Merrick. 

Faculty and other college officers : Lorenzo 
D. M*Cabe, Philosophy; William G. Williams, 
Greek; Francis S. Hoyt, Biblical Theology and 
Literature; William F. Whitlock, Latin; John 
P. Lacroix, Modem Languages and History; 
Hiram M. Perkins, Mathematics, Astronomy, 
and . Mechanical Philosophy ; William O. Se- 
mans. Chemistry and Natural History; Al- 
mon S. B. Newton, Languages; Lucius Y. 
Tutile, Mathematics. 

Number of students, 415. 



Ottbrbbiic University (Westerville). 
Founded 1847. President, H. A. Thompson ; 
cdso Professor of Mental and Moral Science. 

Faculty : John Haywood, Mathematics ; 
Thomas McFadden, Natural Sciences ; John 
E. Guitner, Greek; Henry Garst, Latin; 
Mrs. Lizzie K. Jdillcr, Principal Ladies* Dti" 
partment; C. A. Bowersox, Vocal Music; B. 
Naumbourg, Instrumental Music. 

Number of students (men and women), 
305. 

OxvoRD Fbmalb Collbob (Oxford). 
Founded 1854. President, Robert D. Morris. 

Faculty and other college officers: Mrs. 
Elizabeth N. Morris, Miss Jane C. Log;Qe, 
Mijs Gertrude E. Wall, Miss Agnes Wallace, 
Miss Edell ElUs, Miss Emma Beeler; A. 
Beangureau, French, Drawing, and Painting ; 
Karl Merz, Vocal and Instrumental Music. 

Number of students, 110. 

St. Xatibr Collbob (Cincinnnti). 
Founded 1843. President, Leopold Bushart. 

Faculty: F. P. Nussbaum, Prefect ^ 
Studies; M. Lawlor, Treasurer; J. A. Fas- 
tre. Philosophy ; F. H. Stuntebeck, Mathemat- 
ics and Astronomy; J. Straetmans, Natural 
Sciences; J. P. Hogan, Rhetoric; P. J. Mc- 
Dermott, Poetry ; J. J. O'Meara, Humanities ; 
J. B. Boever, First Academic ; P. A. Krier^ H. 
A. Munks, Second Academic ; H. C. A. Brons- 
geest, A. G. Van Der Eerden, Third Aca- 
demic; T. H. Miles, Grmn^nar; T. B. Cham- 
bers, Grammar; J. G. H. Eemion, Prepara- 
tory Department; H. Brnsselbach, Music. 

Number of students, 817. 

Urbana Univbrsitt (Urbana). Char- 
tered 1850. President, Frank Sewall; also 
Professor of Mental and Moral Science. 

Faculty : Thomas Freeman Moses, Natural 
Science; Hjalmar Hjorth Royesen, Greek and 
Latin; Richard de Charms, Master of Gramimar 
School. 

Number of students, 80. 

Westbrk Rbsertb College (Hudson). 
(Report of 1873.) Founded 1826. Preiiident, 
Carroll Cutler. 

Faculty and other college officers : Truman 
Hastings, Municipal Law; Nathan P. Sey- 
mour, Greek and Latin ; Edward W. Morlcy, 
Natural History and Chemistry; Allen C. Bar- 
rows, Latin and English LitetxUure ; Winthrop 
D. Sheldon, Principal of Preparatory School ; 
William R. Perkins, Ttttor; Charles F. Har- 
rington. Tutor; Thomas D. Seymour, Greek 



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and Modem Languages; Charles J. Smith, 
Maikemntles, Natvral Pkilotophiff and Astron- 
omy. 
Namber of stadents, 109. 

WiLBBRFOBCB Univbrsitt (Xeiiia). 
Founded 1863. President, Daniel A. Payne; 
also Professor of Mental and Moral Science 
and Systematic Theology, 

Faculty : William B. Adams, Greek and 
Satural Sciences ; B. K. Sampson, Latin and 
Mathematics; B. F. Lee, Theology and Church 
History ; £mma L. Parker, Principal Female 
Department ; M. £. McBride, Normal Depart- 
ment; B. F. Howard, Lcuo; John Little, 
Law, 

Namber of students (men and women), 
159. 

WiLLOuoHBT CoLLEOB (Willoughby). 
Founded 1855. President, L. T. Kirk. 

Faculty: W. W. Gist, Greek and Latin; 
Ophelia Forward, Preceptress; L. A. Witter, 
Common Branches; W. L. Todd, Music; A. 
B. Pratt, Cotnmerdal Department; M. A. 
Histings, Painting and Drawing. 

Number of students (men and women), 
150. 

WiTTB3TBBBO CoLLBOB (Springfield). 
(Report of 1 872.) Founded 1845. President, 
Stmoel Sprecher; also Professor of Christian 
Theology and Mental and Moral Science, 

Fsculty and other college officers : H. R. 
Geiger, ^flrfAtfwwriic* and Mechanical Philoso- 
phy; Isaac Sprecher, Ancient Languages ; B. P. 
Prince, Greek, and Principal of the Preparatory 
Department; 8. A. Ort, Mathematics; H. G. 
R<^rs, Tutor; A. Eissick, Principal of Gram- 
mar School. 

Number of students, 18S. 
• 

Woo«TBBUwivBR8iTT(Wooster). Found- 
ed 1866. President, Willis Lord; also Pro- 
fessor of Biblical Instruction. 

Faculty: O. N. Stoddard, Natural Set" 
enfies; W. H. Jeflfers, Greek; Samuel J. 
Kirkwood, Mathematics; Leander Firestone, 
Anatomy and Physiology ; D. S. Gregory, In- 
UlUctual and Moral Philosophy, Rhetoric, and 
English Language and Literature ; J. A. I. 
Lowes, Principal of Preparatory Department; 
H. E. Lippert, Modem Languages; H. L. 
Henderson, Latin and Natural Sciences; D. 
8. Gregory, Librarian, 

Medical department (located at ClcTeland, 
0.). Faculty : Gnstav C. E. Weber (Dean), 
Clinical Swrtfery; Leander Firestone, Obstet- 
rics and Diseases of Women; W. J. Soott, 



Principles and Practice of Medicine; James 
Dascomb, Chemistry and Toxicology ; A. Mets, 
Ophthalmology; H. J. Herrick, Surgery; Con- 
way W. Noble, Medical Jurisprudence; D. B. 
Smith, Physiology; A. C. Miller, Geniio-uri- 
naiy System ; John B. Rice, Dermatology ; H. 
W. Kitchen, Anatomy; Thomas G. Cleve- 
land, Materia Medica and Tlierapeutics ; Joel 
Pomerene, Diseases of Children ; S. N. Rob- 
inson, Demonstrator of Anatomy. 
Number of students, 245. 

Xenii. Collbob (Xcnia). (Report of 
1872.) Founded 1850. President, William 
Smith ; also Professor of Mental, Moral, and 
Natural Science. 

Faculty aod officers: Frederick Merrick, 
Ancient Languages and Mathematics; Julia H. 
Heath, BeUes-Lettres ; Mary McLean Smith, 
History; Mary V. Callcnder, Preparatory De- 
partment; Julia E. Dailey, Drawing and PcUnt- 
ing; Henry R. Knaner, Music, 

Number of students (men and women), 
176. 

INDIANA. 

Bbooktillb College (Brookrille). (Re- 
port of 1872.) President, J. P. D. John. 

Faculty and instructors: Thomas Harri- 
son; D. D. Blakeman, Julia E. Newkirk, 
Martha L. Keely, O. P. John, C, A. Wood. 

Number of students (men and women). 



Earlham College (Richmond). Found- 
ed 1860. President, Joseph Moore; also 
Professor of Moral Philosopliy and Geology. 

Officers of instruction and government; 
William A. l/loort. Mathematics ; Calvin W. 
Pearson, Modem Languages and History ; Al- 
pheus McTaggart, Greek and Latin; Benja- 
min Trueblood, English Literature ; Morris P. 
Wright, Chemistry and Botany; Anna Val- 
entino, Algebra, Latin, and English Grammar; 
Anna Miles, Geography and Arithmetic. 

Number of students (men and women), 
222. 

Frakkliic College (Franklin). (Report 
of 1872.) Founded 1843. President, H. Lin- 
coln Wayland; also Professor of Intellectual 
and Moral Philosophy. 

Faculty and other officers: W. T. Stott, 
Natural Sciences ; F. W. Brown, languages ; 
J. E. Walter, Mathematics; M. A. Fisher, 
Principal of Female^ Department; B. Wallace, 
Anatomy; P. W. Payne, Physiology; Bel R. 



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Stott, OmamerUai Department; M. Allen, 
Music. 

Kumber of students (men and women), 
209. 

Hanoyeb Collbob (HanoTer). (Report 
of 1872.) Founded 1833. President, George 
C. Heckraan ; aUo Professor of Biblical Instruc- 
tion and Ethics, 

Faculty and officers; S. H. Thompson, 
Mathematics, Mechanical Philosophy, and As" 
tronomy; Joshua B. Garritt, Greek; Edward 
J. Hamilton, Logic and Mental Philosophy ; 
£. Thompson Nelson, Natural Sciences; H. 
H. Young, Assistant. 

Number of students, 157. 

Indiana Uniybbsitt (Bloomington). 
Founded 1828. President, Cyrus Nutt; also 
Professor of Moral, Mental, and Political Phi- 
losophy. 

Professors : Theophilus A. Wylie, Natural 
Philosophy; Richard Owen, Natural Science 
and Chemistry ; Daniel Eirkwood, Matltemat- 
ics; Ellsha Ballantine, Greek; George W. 
Hoss, English Literature, and Theory and 
Practice of Tetiching; Edward T. Cox, Geolo- 
gy ; James Thompson, Military Science and 
Civil Engineering; Arozi Atwater, Latin ; 
John L. Gay, English Literature; Hermann 
B. Boisen, Modem Languages; Tilghman H. 
Mallow,. Walter R. Houghton. Tutors. 

Law department: Samuel E. Perkins, B. 
E. Rhoads. 

Medical department: G. W. Mears, Ofr- 
stetrics; H. W. Wiley, Chemistry; J. A. Com- 
ingor, Surgery ; R. N. Todd, Principles and 
Practice of Medicine ; T. B. Harvey, Diseases 
of Women and Children; L. D. Waterman, 
Anatomy and Clinical Surgery ; W. B. Fletch- 
er, Physiology; Thad. M. Stevens, Medical 
Jurisprudence, Toxicclogy, and Analytical Chem- 
istry; Dongan Clark, Materia Medica and 
Therapeutics ; C. E. Wright, Diseases of Eye 
and Ear ; S. C. Tomlinson, Demonstrator of 
Anatomy. 

Number of students, 358. 

NOBTH-WBSTBBN ChBISTIAN UnIVEBSITT 

(Indianapolis). (Report of 1872.) Founded 
1855. President, O. A. Burgess. 

Faculty and other college officers : W. M, 
Thrasher, Mathematics and Astronomy; Harvey 
W. Wiley, Latin ; Samuel R. Hoshour, Moral 
Science and Greek; Alfred Fairhurst, Natu- 
ral Sciences and History; Catharine Merrill, 
Belles-Lettres, Esthetics, and English Litera- 
ture; Byron R. Elliott, Real Estate and Crimi- 



nal Law; Horatio C. Newcourt, Equity Juris- 
prudence ; Charles P. Jacobs, Natural and Mu- 
nicipal Law; C. E. Hollcnbcck, Book-keeping 
and Commercial Law ; H. J. Schonackcr, /Tior- 
monyand Composition; A. G. Alcott, Elocu- 
tion ; Mrs. E. J. Price, Principal of Academ- 
ic Department; Gerard Many, Modem Lan- 
guages; D. L. Thomas, Latin; E. T. Lane, 
Latin; J. W. Lowber, Greek; J. Q. Thomas, 
Mathematics; J. A. Roberts, English Litera- 
ture; Retta D. Brown, Penmanship. 

Number of students (men and women), 
345. 

Smithson Collbob (Logansport). FV>nnd- 
ed 1871. President, Paul R. Kendall; aUo 
Professor of Mental and Moral Philosophy. 

Faculty : Mrs. Caroline S. Kendall, Latfy 
Principal, and Professor of Modem Languages 
and Literature ; Howard R. Burrington, An- 
cient Languages and Literature; L Thornton 
Osmond, Natural Sciences; Taylor B. Fletch- 
er, Mathematics ; E. A. Hall, Commercial De- 
partment; D. Scott Evans, Painting and the 
Arts. 

Number of students (men and women), 
196. 

Unitbbbitt of Notbb Damb (Notre 
Dame). (Report of 1872.) Founded 1842. 
President, W. Corby. 

Faculty and other college officers: A. 
Lemonnier, Director of Stud^ ; A. Granger, 
Prrfect of Religion; N. H. GiUespie, English 
Literature; Joseph C. Currier, Natural Sci- 
ences ; M. B. Brown, Philosophy and Dogmatic 
Theology; T. L. Vagnier, Natural Philosophy 
and Chemistry; P. Lauth, German ; L. Ney- 
rou. Anatomy and Physiology; John Lauth, 
German; Jacob Lauth, LoUin; E. Lilly, 
Music ; J. A. 0*Connell, Greek and Lati^ ; 
T. E. Howard, English Literature and Astrono- 
my ; J. A. Lyons, Latin ; W. J. Ivers, Mathe- 
matics; L. G. Tong, Book-keeping and Com- 
mercial Law; M. T. Corby, Vocal Music; 
M. A. J. Baasen, Greek, Latin, and German ; 
P. Foote, Law; C. A. B. Von Weller, DraH}- 
htg and Painting; James A. O'Reilly, Greek ; 
A. W. Arrington, Latin ; D. A. Clark, Mathe- 
maties. 

Number of students, 421. 

Wabash Collbob (Crawfordsville). 
Founded 1 834. President, Joseph F. Tuttle ; 
also Professor of Moral and Intellectual Philoeo- 
vhy. 

Faculty and other college officers: Ed- 
mund 0. Hovey, Chemistry and Geology; 



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Caleb Mills, Gr&ek; Sonrael S. Thomson, 
Litin ; John L. Campbell, Mathematics^ Nat' 
vml Philosophy^ caul Astronomy; William C. 
White. RhetoriCy German, and French; Henry 
B. Carrington, MUitary Science; Daniel A 
Basaett, Principnl of Preparaiory Department ; 
Mrtitliew M. Whiteford, Associate Principal 
Preparatory Department; George C. Batler, 
Henry R. Thomson, Tutors, 
Number of students, 268 

ILLINOIS. 

AfiisoDON College (Abingdon). (Report 
of 1872.) Founded 1853. President, James 
W. Batler ; also Profissor of Mental and Moral 
Philosophy. 

Faculty and other college officers : A. Jud- 
ton Thomson, Ancient Languages; Albert 
Linn, Mathematics and Astronomy ; Judge Der- 
ham. Natural and Physical Sciences ; Aaron 
Prince Aten, BeUes-Lettres and Elocution; 
Elizabeth Lvnn, Drawing and Painting; May 
Hirris, Music ; A. J. Thomson, Penmanship 
md Phonography ; A. Lovitt, Elocution, 

Nnmber of students (men and women), 
236. 

Almira Collbob (Greenville). (Report 
of 1872.) Founded 1857. President, John 
B. White ; also Professor of InteUectwU and 
Moral Philosophy. 

Faculty and other college officers : Eliza- 
beth S. Demary, English and Mathematics ; 
Artie Brumbach, Latin, Drawing, and Paint- 
ing; Juliette White, Rhetoric arid English Lit- 
erature; Martha T. Learned, Latin and Math- 
twvUia; Ad^le Gross, French and German; 
Annie L. Richardson, Music; Kate Chitten- 
den, Music. 

Number of students (women), 115. 

AuousTAiTA Collbob (Paz ton), (Gone- 
Mo). Fonnded 1860. President, T. N. 
Hasselqnist. 

Ftcnlty and other college officers: H. 
Heck; A. R. Cenrin; C. O. Granere. 

Number of students, 61 . 

Blaokbobit UmvBBSiTT (Carlinyille). 

(Report of 1872.) Founded . Prcsi- 

*!nt, John W. Bailey : also Professor of The- 

Faculty and otber college officers : Robert 
B. Hinton, Mathematics ; John B. L. Soule, 
inctoi Lotnguages; J. D. Conley, Chemistry 
ond Natural History; C. A. Wood, Modem 
Wk^; Kate Holden, Assistant. 

Number of students (men and women), 



EuBBKA Collbob (Eureka). Founded 
1852. President, A. M. Weston ; also Pro- 
fessor of Greek and of Sacred Liteixtiure. 

Faculty: A. 8. Fisher, Mathematics; J. 
M. Allen, Mental and Moral Philosophy, and 
English Literature : B. J. Radford, Latin, also 
Librarian ; O. P. Hay, Natural Sciences and 
Modem Languages, also Curator of Museum ; 
E. H. Plowe, Vocal and histrumental Music. 

Number of students (men and women), 
844. 

Fbrrt Hall Young Ladies' College (of 
Lake Forest University), (Lake Forest). 
Founded 1869. President, Edward P. Wes- 
ton ; also Professor of Metaphysics and Litera- 
ture, 

Board of instruction : William E. Pattee, 
NaturcU Sciences ; Miss Caroline E. Pendleton, 
Morals and Mathematics ; Mme. E. Guantieri, 
French and Music; Miss Anna Stoecklcin, 
Modem La nguages ; Miss Martha L. Hathar 
way, Latin and English ; Mrs. I. H. Benson, 
English Branches; Emil Liebling, Organ, 
and Piano; Miss Martha E. Weston, Piano- 
forte ; Elias Boguc, Vocal. Music ; Mrs. Annie 
8killman, Pianoforte; Miss Jennie Dayton, 
Drawing and Painting; Miss Mary E. Bene- 
dict, Preparatory Dqxv'tment ; James Gill, 
Vooal Training; A. DeucLar, Etiquette and 
Calisthenics. 
Number of students, 100. 

Illinois College (Jacksonville). (Report 
of 1872). Founded 1830. President, J. M. 
Sturtevant; also Professor of Menial Science 
and Science of Government. 

Faculty and other college officers : Samnel 
Adams, Chemistry and Natural Philosophy ; 
Mason Grosvenor, Moral Philosophy and Evi- 
dences of Christianity; W. W. Harsha. Elo- 
cution ; Rufus C. Crampton, Mathematics and 
Astronomy; Edward A. Tauner, Latin; 
Henry E. Storrs, Natural Science; George 
W. Bailey, Gre^; S. F. Sandall, French, Ger- 
man, and English Literature ; Alfred H. Stur- 
tevant, MaUtematics; Edward A. Tauner, 
Librarian, 
Number of students, 55. 324. 

• Illinois Fbmalb Collbob (Jackson- 
ville). Founded 1847. President, W. H. 
DcMotte ; also Professor of Moral, Political, 
and Natural Sciences. 

Board of instructors : Emeline L. AUyn, 
Higher English ; Helen M. McGowan, Latin 
Cora Valentine, Mathematics; Sara E. Stout 
Primary Department; A. E. Wimmerstedt 
Music; Anna A. Graves, Music; Mrs. Ella 



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College Directory. 



O. Browne, MusiCf Painting^ and Drawing; 
Mile. Muhlemann, French, German, and Mu- 
sic; G. W. Browne, Book-keeping and Pen- 
manship ; J. P. Willard, Lecturer on Physiology 
and Hygiene. 
Number of students, 175. 

iLLiwoid Indobtrial Univbrsitt (Ur- 
bana). Founded 1868. Acting Regent, S. 
W. Shattuck. 

Faculty and other college officers : William 
M. Baker, English Language and Literature; 
A. P. S. Stuart, Chemvdry; Slillman W. 
Bobinson, MecJianical Science and Engineer- 
ing; Thomas J. Burrill, Botany and Horticul- 
ture; S. W. Shattuck, Mathematics; Edward 
Snyder, Military Tactics, Book-keeping, and 
German; D. C. Taft, J. F. Carey, J. B. 
Webb, M. Miles, W. C. Flagg. 

Instructors and assistants: C. W. Silver, 
C. W. Rolfe, G. R. Shi^han, C. N. Bicker, 
E. G. Walker, J. P. Campbell, P. Genna- 
dius; Miss L. E. Patchen, Afusic and Draw- 
ing. 

Number of students (men and women), 

Illinois Soldiers' Collbob (Fnlton). 
(Report of 1872.) Founded 1867. President, 
Leander H. Potter ; also Professor of Mental 
and Moral Science, 

Faculty and other college officers : Charles 
W. Feeks, Mathematics, Military and Com- 
mercial Science; George W. Woodward, An- 
cient and Modem Languages ; Olin F. Matti- 
son. Natural Science; Moses Sonle, Lan- 
guage ; John O. Garmon, Penmanship, 

Number of students, 132. 

Ekox Colleob (Galesburg). (Report 
of 1872.) Founded 1838. President, John 
P. Gulliver ; cdso Professor of Philosophy and 
Esthetics. 

Facidty and other college officers: Henry 
E. Hitchcock, Mathematics and Natural Phi- 
losophy ; Albert Hurd, Chemistry and Natural 
Science; George Churchill, Principal of 
Academy ; Milton L. Comstock, Mathematics, 
Natural Philosophy, and Astronomy; Llewel- 
lyn Pratt, Latin; Henry M. Tyler, Greek 
and German; John W. Burgess, Logic, Rhe- 
toric, English Ijiterature, and Political Science ; 
John H. Eastman, Greek and Latin; Susan 
H. Ward, Principal of Ladies* Setninary ; 
Rath K. Colby, Drawing and Painting; 
Hetta L. H. Ward, Assistant ; Mary Ives Sey- 
mour, French, Music, and Light Gymnastics; 
Mary F. Disbrow, Music ; Florence A. Ten- 
ney. Drawing and Painting, 



Number of students (men and women), 
266. 

Lombard Ukivebsitt (Galesburp). 
(Report of 1872.) Founded 1852. President, 
James P. Weston ; cdso Professor of Intdlec 
tual and Moral Philosophy, 

Faculty and other college officers : William 
Livingstone, Natural Science; John V. N. 
Standish, Mathematics and Astronomy ; Isaac 
A. Parker, Greek and Latin; C. S. Kendall, 
French and German; Elmore Chase, Princi- 
pal of the Preparatory Department. 

Number of students (men and women), 
155. 

MoEsBDBBB Collbob (Lebanon). Found- 
ed 1828. President, Robert Allyn ; also Pro- 
fessor of Mental, Moral, and Soa'al Science, 
and Fiscal and Financial Agent, 

Facul^ and other college officers: Oliver 
V. Jones, Mathematics and Astronomy, ai«o 
Librarian; Samuel H. Deneen, Latin; WiU 
liam F. Swahlen, Greek and German ; Evan 
E. Edwards, Physics, Natural History, cuid 
English Literature; Henry H. Homer, Civil 
and Common Law ; Robert Kidd, Elocution. 

Number of students (men and women), 
266. 

MomcouTH Collbob (Monmouth). 
Founded 1856. President, David A. Wallace; 
also Professor of Moral Philosophy, 

Faculty and other college officers : A. M. 
Black, Greek and Hebrew; J. R. Doig, Lat^ 
in; Alexander Young, Evidences of Chris- 
tianity; J. C. Hutchison, Natural Science; 
J. H. Wilson, Mathematics; Thomas H. 
Rogers, Mathematics ; Agnes Strang, French 
and German ; John A. Gordon, English Lan- 
guage; S. H. Price, Music; J, M. Martin, 
Penmanship and Book-keeping ; Miss Arminia 
Watt, Drawing, Painting, ffc, ; John A. Gor- 
don, Librarian, 

Number of students (men and women), 
872. 

NoRTH-wBSTBRN CoLLBOB (Naperville). 
Founded 1860. President, A. A. Smith; 
also Professor of Mental and Moral Science, 

Faculty : F. W. Heidner, German ; H. 0. 
Smith, Latin ; H. H. Rassweiler, Mathematics 
and Natural Scierux ; A. Huelster, Greek; C. 
F. Rassweiler, French ; Miss Nancy J. Cun- 
ningham, Preceptress, and Teacher of [haw- 
ing; J. G. Cross, Penmanship; J. L. Rookey, 
Accounts; H. H. Cody, Commercial Law; H. 
C. Smith, Vocal Music; Miss Minnie P. 



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Cbd/, Inslruwunlal Music; Miss Mary E. 
Cropaey, Painting. 

Narbber of stadents (men and women), 
296. 

NosTH-wBSTSBM Umiybrsxtt (Evanston). 
Foanded 1855. President, Charles H. Fowler ; 
alao Prt^euor of Moral and Intellechud Phi- 
\mphf. 

Faculty : Daniel Bonbright, LaUn ; Oliver 
Marcy, Natural History and Physics; Lonis 
Kidtler, Grtek ; David Hilton Wheeler, Eng- 
liik Literature and History ; Julius F. Kellogg, 
Mathematics; Kobert L. Cumnock, Elocution ; 
Heaiy M. Bannbter, Curator of Museum; 
Henry S. Carhart, Civil Engineering ; Charles 
W. Pearson, German, 

Garrett Biblical Institute : Henry Bannis- 
ter, Exegetieal Theology; Miner Raymond, 
Sfiematic Theohgy; Francis D. Hemen- 
way, Hebrew and BibUecU Uieratwre. 

Chicago Medical College: N. S. Davis, 
deooi if Faculty, and Professor of Principles 
nd Practice of Medicine^ and Clinical Medi- 
cine; W. H. Byford and E. O. F. Roler, Ob- 
SMries, and Diseases of Women and Children ; 
Edmond Andrews, Surgery; H. A. Johnson, 
Diseaaesif Respiratory and Circulatory Organs; 
H. P. Merriman, Organic Chemistry and Toxi' 
cology; Ralph N. Isham, Surgical Anatomy 
and Operations; J. H. HoUister, Pathology 
andPoMogieal Anatomy; J. S. Jewell, Pay- 
chologied Medicine and Nervous Diseases; 
Thomas Bevan, Hygiene; B. J. Patterson, 
Medical Jurisprudence; Daniel T. Nelson, 
Phyndogy and Histology ; William E. Quine, 
Materia Medica and Therapeutics; E. M. 
Haines, Inorganic Chemistry; Samuel Jones, 
Ophthalmology and Otology; Julien S. Sher- 
man. Surgery ; Thomas S. Bond, Demonstror 
tor of Anatomy, 

Evanston College for Ladies : Frances E. 
WOlanl, Presided and Instructor in Theory 
and History of Fine Arts ; Kate A. Jackson, 
French; Minerva B. Norton, History; Oscar 
A. Mayo, Instrumental Music ; Anna Lewis, 
Vocal Music ; H. Maria Pettengill, Oil Paint- 
ing; Mary L. McClure, Drawing; Mary J. 
Saff[»rd, Physiology and Hygiene ; Harriet E. 
Beed, Financial Secretary; S. Norton and 
Mrs. M B. Norton, Superintendents of Home 
Department. 

Preparatory school : George W. Winslow, 
latin; Robert Baird, Greek; Edwin B. 
Sbrader, Mathematics and Physics ; Marietta 
L Palmer, English; Edward L. Parks, 
Greek; Wdbur O. Peet, Mathematics; Chaun- 
oey Gaines, Latin; M. H. Holmes, Free-hand 
Drawing, 



Number of students (men 480, women 
132), 612. 

QuiNCT CoLLBOB (Quiucy). Report of 
1872). Founded 1854. President, George 
W. Gray; also Professor of Mental ani Moral 
Philosophy and Mathematics. 

Faculty and other college officers : D. E. 
Wheeler, Mathematics; E. W. Gray, Latin 
and Greek; D. L. Musselman, Penmanship 
and Principal Commercial Department; H. J. 
Randall, Natural Science; C. J. Leutrell, 
VoccUand Instrumental Music; Madame Pr^- 
tel, French; Emma A. Macrtz, German; Har- 
riet E. Glen, Painting and Drawing; Ella 
Cassidy, Principal of Model School, 

Number of stadents (men and women), 
258. 

Shurtlbft Collbob (Upper Alton). 
Founded 1832. President, A. A. Kendrick. 

Faculty and other officers : Orlando L. 
Castle, Oratory f Rhetoric, and Belles- Lettres ; 
Oscar Howes, Latin and Cheek; Justus Bulk- 
ley, Church History and Polity ; Charles Fair- 
man, Mathematics and Natural Philosophy, 
also Chemistry, Geology, and Mineralogy; N. 
M. Wood, Systematic Theology and History of 
Doctrine; James M. Stifler, Biblical Uteror 
ture and Interpretation ; E. M. Joslyn, Medi" 
cine and Physiology ; George B. Dodge, /Vth- 
cipal of Preparatory Department ; L. C. Don- 
aldson, Assistant; Mary Jnlia Jewett, Assist- 
ant; Washington Leverett, Librarian. 

Niunber of students (men and women), 
194. 

St. Ignatius Collbob (Chicago). 
Founded 1870. President, Rev. A. Damen. 

Faculty and officers : J. S. Verdin, Vice- 
President and Prefect of Studies; J, G. Ven- 
neman, Greek, Latin, and German, also Libra- 
rian; J. J. Stephens, Greek, Latin, English, 
and Algebra ; A. Lambert, Greek, Latin, Eng- 
lish, and French; P. Chamberlaine, English, 
Arithmetic and Book-keeping; O. J. Reilly, 
Preparatory Class; A. Lambert and J. J, 
Stephens, Prefects of Discipline 

Number of students, 146. 

XJnitbrsitt of Chicago (Chicago). 
(Report of 1872). Founded 1859. Presi- 
dent, John C. Burroughs ; also Professor of 
Moral and Intelleclual Philosophy. 

Faculty and other College officers : James 
R. Boise, Greek ; William Mathews, Rhetoric 
and English Literature; Alonzo J. Howe, 
Mathematics; J. William Stearns, Latin; 
Truman Henry Safibrd, Astronomy; Henry 



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Booth, Law; I. W. ¥o&t/er, Phyn'cs ; C. Gil- 
bert Wheeler, ChemUtry; John C. Freeman, 
Greik and Latin ; C. B. Richard Muller, Ger- 
man; William A. Metcaif, MathematicB; E. 
M. Booth, Elocution ; H. H. Holmes, Draw- 
ing. 
Number of students, 329. 

Wesletak Unitbrsity (Bloomington). 
(Report of 1872.) Founded 1852. President, 
Oliver S. Munsell ; also Professor of Ethics 
and Metaphysics. 

Faculty and other College officers : H. C. 
DeMotte, Mathematics; J. B. Jaques, Greek 
and German; B. S. Potter, Agriculture and 
Natural Science ; S. S. Hamill, Elocution and 
English Literature ; Q. B. Crow, Latin. 

Number of students, 212. 

Wkstfield Collboe (Westfleld). Re- 
port of 1872.) Founded 1861. President, 
Samuel B. Allen ; also Professor of Mental 
and Moral Science. 

Faculty and officers : David Shuck, Mathe- 
matics ; William O. Tobey, Ancient Lan- 
guages and Literature; Rachel H. W. Tobey, 
Principal of Ladies' Department ; William R. 
Shuey, Book-keeping and Penmanship ; Mary 
E. Bright, Music ; O. W. Peutzer, Drawing 
and Painting ; William H. Armantrout, Li- 
brarian, 

Number of students (men and women), 
169. 

Wheaton College (Wheaton). (Report 
of 1872.) Founded — ^. President, Jona- 
than Blanchard ; also Professor of IrUelUctual 
and Moral Philosophy. 

Faculty and other college officers : John 
Calvin Webster, Rhetoric, Logic, and Belles- 
Ldtres; Joseph Avery Bent, Mathematics and 
Natural Philosophy; Oscar Fletcher Lumry, 
Ancient Languages; Freeborn Garretson Ba- 
ker, Music; Alfred Hadley Hiatt, Physiology 
and Hygiene; Elliot Whipple, Natural Sci- 
ence and Latin ; Jacob Franklin Ellis, Princi- 
pal (^Preparatory Department; Laura Root 
Johnson, Principal of Female Department; 
Walker Milner, Principal of Commercial De- 
partment ; Charles Albert Blanchard, Penman- 
ship and Gymnastics; Herman Augustus Fis- 
cher, German ; Sarah Attersley Baker, Music, 

Number of students (men and women), 
222. 

IOWA. 

CoBVELL College (Mt. Vernon). Found- 
ed 1857. President, Rer. William F. King; 



alss Profetsor of Moral and Intellectual Philo^ 
ophy. 

Faculty : Alonzo 0)llin, Natural Science* ; 
H. J. Cooke, Preceptress, German, and History / 
Hugh Boyd, Greek and Latin ; Isaac T. Web- 
ster, Civil Engineering and Military Science; 
Sylvester N. VVilliaras, Mathematics; Ham- 
line H. Freer, Librarian, and Principal Pre- 
paratory and Normal Departments ; Amanda 
F. Plasket, Perspective, Drawing, and Painting ; 
Mary A. Neff, Languages and Mathematics ; 
Genia M. Wilde, Assistant Teacher; FeKx 
Flescher, Instrumental Music; I. H. Bann, 
Vocal Music; Samuel H. Goodyear, Booh' 
keeping and Penmanship, 

Number of students (men and women), 
850. 

Iowa. Aobioultural Collbgb (Amee). 
(Report of 1872.) Fonnded 1858. PreBident, 
A. S. Wdch ; also Professor of Menial and 
Moral Philosophy. 

Faculty and other college officers : George 
W. Jonee, Mathematics; James Mathews, Ag- 
riculture; William A. Anthony, P/iy«ics and 
Mechanics ; Albert £. Foote, Chemistry ; JamcB 
L. (jfeddes, Military Tactics and Engineering ; 
Charles E. BeBsey, Botany and Horticulture; 
L P. Roberts, Superintendent of Farm ; Mary 
Lovelace, Preceptress; Aognata Mathews, 
Music, 

Number of Btadents, 218. 

lowi. College (Grinnell). Founded 1 847. 
President, George F. Magoun ; also Professor 
of Mental and Moral Science, 

Faculty : Samuel J. Buck, Mathematics 
and Natural Philosophy ; John Avery, Greek, 
also Modem Languages ; Henry Carmichael, 
Chemistry and Natural Science; Arthur S. 
Hardy, Civil Engineering, Applied Matliema- 
tics, and Military Drill; Richard W. Swan, 
Latin, also Associate Principal of Academy ; 
Jesse Macy, Principal of Academy ; Mrs. Snsan 
M. G. Sloan, Lady Principal; Edward M. 
Booth, Elocution; James L. Hill, Tutor; 
Charles W. Guernsey, Tutor; Miss Helen 
S. Whitcomb, Lady Assistant; David G. 
Edmundson, Tutor; Thomas Holyoke, Phy- 
siology and Laws of Health ; John F. Dillon, 
Constitutional and Municipal Law ; Chester C. 
Cole, Elements of Law; R. W. Swan, Librae 
rian. 

Number of students, 331. 

Iowa State University (Iowa City). 
(Report of 1872.) Founded 1860. President, 
George Thacher; also Professor of Mental and 
Moral Science, 



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Ph>ie68on : Nathan R. Leonard, Maihemat' 
kt and Astronoimf ; GaataroB. Hinrichs, PhjfB- 
kal Science; Cliaries A, Eggert, Modem 
Lmtfwxget and Literature ; William O. Ham- 
moDd, Ltw ; Geoige G. Wright, ConstituUan' 
al and Criminal Law : Chester C. Cole, Com- 
WTcid Law; Amoe N. Cnirier, Latin; 
Charles A. White, Natural Science ; Stephen 
N. FeQows, Didactics ; John F. Dillon, Medi- 
ealJttrispritdenee ; William F. Peck, iSurTcry; 
P. J. Famsworth, Materia Medica; W. S. 
RobertBon, Medicine ; W. D. Middleton, Phy- 
sidogy and Microecopic Anatomy ; J. C. Shra- 
der, Obstetrics; Leonard F. Parker, Greek; 
£Uea A. Rich, Mathematics; Celia A. Bl 
Carrier, Latin; William C. Preston, Physical 
Sdenoe; Sarah F. Longhridge, Normal De- 
partment; Geoige L Knller, English Language 
and Literature; Frank E. Niher, Physical 
Sdenoe; Otto Schmidt, German; O. C. Ishell, 
Music; John North, Anatomy ; B. W. Pryce, 
Swrgery; £. H. Hazen, Ophthalmology and 
Otdogy ; Mark fiannej. Insanity; P. T. Smitih, 
Dental Surgery. 

Nmnber of students (men and women), 
447. 

Iowa Tabob Coixboe (Tabor). Found- 
ed 1854. President, William M. Brooks; 
alto Professor of Rhetoric and English lAteror 

Facoltj : James E. Todd, Natural Sciences ; 
Johnson Wright, Latin and Greek ; A. S. Mc- 
PhenoQ, Preparatory Department; Emma F. 
Gaston, Ladies^ Department; E. B. Geer» 
Ifntc 

MISSOITRX 

HcGbb Coixbob (College Monnd). (Be- 
portofl872.) Founded 1834. President, Bev. 
J. B. Mitchell ; also Professor of Ethics, Belles- 
Lettres, and Metaphysics, 

Fseolty and instmctors: J. 8. Howard, 
Vatwal Sdenoe and Sacred Literature; Ben 
Eli Gathrie, Greek and Latin; W. J. Patton, 
Pure and Applied Mathematics; B. S.Matthews, 
Principal of Preparatory School; 8. A. Mitch- 
efl, Prindpal of Primary School ; Lanra A. 
Howell, Instrumental Music and Painting ; D. 
C. Besrer, Vocal Music ; Ulysse Vnille, French, 
. German, and Hebrew ; J. W. Hudson, Principal 
ff Commercial School; Kate Bearer, Guitar; 
U. Susan "Ruby, Matron. 

Nomber of students (men and women), 

no. 

St. Louis UirmiBsiTT (St. Louis), 
founded 1829. President, S. J. Zealand. 
8 



Faculty and officers: P. J. Ley sen, Vice- 
President and Prefect of Studies ; W. H. Hill, 
Mental and Moral Philosophy; G. JjQihy Mathe- 
matics and Physics ; F. J. Boudreaux, Chemis- 
try; J. N. Poland, Rhetoric and Elocution; 
D. McErlane, Poetry ; J. P. Frieden, Humani- 
ties, also TJbrarian ; M. J. Harts, Humanities ; 
I. Panken, Humanities ; J. Van Erevel, Hu- 
manities, also Preparatory Class ; Louis B. Ber- 
geron, Rudiments; J. M. Hayes, Commercial 
Course; E. D. Kelly, Rhetoric and Book- 
keeping; D. Swagers, Grammar; M. Comely, 
Grammar, also German ; H. A. Schaapman, 
French; W. D. Ellsworth, Penmanship; C. 
M. Charropin, F. L. Wemman, E. D. Kelly, 
J. Van Kreyel, D. McErlane, Prefects of 
Discipline ; C. J. Bichter, H. Vogt, P. M. 
Enzinger, Music; T. L. Papin, Physioan, 

Number of students, 403. 



St. ViNOBirr'8 Collbob (Cape Girar- 
deau). (Beport of 1872.) Founded 1843. 
President, Anthony Verrina. 

Faculty and officers : T. M. 01)ono^hue, 
Rhetoric, History, and Moral Philosophy ; Se- 
cundus Lavizeri, Theology ; William A. Byan, 
English Grammar and Compassion; John A. 
Moloney, Latin and Geogrtxphy; L. J. Pieper, 
Greek and Mathematics ; John J. Lalley, Rhet- 
oric and History ; T. J. O'Leary, Commercial 
Science; James O'Brien, Latin and English 
Literature; M. Broquiere, French Literature; 
Owen McDonald, Mathematics ; Thomas Con* 
ness. Chemistry; Hermann Wolff, German; 
Nicholas Bedmond* Penmanship ; B. Chilian^ 
Music; Gustare A. Henning, Phyddan, 

Number of students, 177. 



XTbiybbsitt of thb Statb of Missoubi 
(Columbhi). (Beport of 1872.) Founded 1843. 
President, Daniel Bead; also Professor of 
Mental, Moral, and Political Philosophy. 

FkMmlty and other college officers : Joseph 
G J^orwood, Natural Science cmd Natural Philo- 
sophy ; Joseph Ficklin, Mathematics, Mechani- 
cal Philosophy, and Astronomy ; Oren Boot, 
Engb'sh Language and Literature, French, and 
German ; E. L. Bipley, Principal of Normal 
College ; John Packer, Ancient Languages and 
Literature; George C. Swallow, Agriculture 

B. B. Wade, Military Science and Tactics 
D. W. B. Kurtz, Assistant in Normal College 

C. A. Bipley, Assistant ; Mary B. Bead, As- 
sistant; Charles V. Biley, Lecturer on Ento- 
mology. 

Number of studenis (meo and women), 
295. 



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Washinotow Univerbitt (including 
Mary Institute) (St. Louis). Founded 1857. 
Acting President, W. G. Eliot ;aZso Profeswr 
of Political Economy. 

Faculty and other college officers : Abram 
Litton, Chemistry and Physics; Truman M. 
Post, Ancient and Modem History; George 
Engelmann, Botany and Natural History , Cal- 
vin S. Pennell, Iniellectual and Moral PhihaO' 
phy, and Principal of Mary Institute ; Sylves- 
ter Waterhonse, Greek; George B. Stone, 
Bhetoric; Henry Hitchcock, Real Property 
Law; Samuel Treat, Constitutional and Ad- 
miralty Law and Practice; Albert Todd, Con- 
veyandng; Alexander Martin, International , 
Constitutional f Admiralty f and Maritime Law; 
Samael Beber, History and Science of Law, 
Equity f and Succession ; John M. Krum, Roman 
Law; George A. Madill, Real Property Law; 
Calvin M. Woodward, Mathematics and Applied 
Mechanics ; , George E. Jackson, Latin ; Mar- 
shall S. Snow, Belles' Lettres ; Leopold Noa, 
Modem Languages ; Henry Pomeroy, Astrono- 
my and Mathematics ; George M. Stewart, 
Mercantile Law and Contracts ; William Eim- 
beck, Practical Astronomy; William B. Pot- 
ter, Mining and Metallurgy ; Roderick E.Rom- 
bauer, Law of Ports, Insurance, Domestic Rela- 
tions, and Evidence ; John W. Noble, Pleadings 
and Practice ; F. Wm. Racder, Architecture ; 
Denham Arnold, Physics ; Charles A. Smith, 
Civil and Medtanical Engineering ; Frederic 
M. Crunden, Elocution; J. W. Pattison, Draw- 
ing; Hiram L. Peet, Academic Department; 
John H. Jenks, German ; Isaac N. Cnndall, 
Academic Department; Thompson L. Bond, 
Mathematics; Horace A. Brown, Academic 
Department; Charles H. Stone, Academic De- 
partment ; Hugo Haanel, English Branches and 
German; Waldemar Malmene, Vocal Music; 
Mrs. Anna C. Hillman, Preparatory Depart- 
ment ; Miss Inez E. Borden, Preparatory De- 
partment; Miss Amanda Ford, Principal of 
Primary School ; Miss Elizabeth W. Leigh, 
Assistant in Primary School, 

Teachers in Mary Institute : Calyin S. Pen- 
nell, Principal; Miss Mary S. Watkins, Latin 
and Natural Science ; Miss Henrietta Sawyer, 
Principal of Preparatory Department ; Miss Mar- 
garet T. Wallace, Principal of Primary Do- 
purtment ; Miss Anna Flintham, Primary De- 
. partment ; Mils Florence K. Holden, Pennum- 
ship ; Miss Sarah E. Cole, Natural Sciences and 
Mathematics ; Miss Mary E. Mack, Natural 
Philosophy : Mrs. Rebecca M. Dean, History, 
Physical Geography, &c, ; Miss Rosella C Jones, 
English Brandies ; MIbs Mary £. Glidden, Read- 
ing and Composition; Miss Hatde E. Osgood, 



History and French ; Mrs. Elizabeth P. Pat- 
tison, History, &€; ,* Mme. Louise Grandjean, 
French ; Miss Hcni;ietta Maria Noa, Gennan 
and Gymnastics; Miss Kate J. Brainard, 
Music; Miss Sophie Desloge, Drawing. 

Number of students (all departmente of the 
imiTefbity), 990. 

KANSAS. 

HiOHLA!a> Universitt (Highland). (Re- 
port of 1872.) Founded 1858. Ppesident, 
J. A. McAfee; fl^ Professor of Greek and 
Moral Science. 

Faculty and other college officers : W. T. 
Gage, Latin and Mathematics ; A. S. McCon- 
nell, Mental Science, Elocution, and Rhetoric ; 
M. Emma Shipp, Principal of Preparatory 
Department; Mrs. W. T. Gage, English 
Branches; Enuna F. Poage, Music; R. W. 
McAfee, Natural Philosophy; John Wilson, 
Penmanship. 

Number of students, 127. 

Kansas State Agricultural Collbgb 
(Manhattan). President, Ja<%ph Denison ; 
also Professor of History, Political Economy, 
and Mental and Moral Philosophy. 

Faculty : B. F. Mudge, Natural Sciences ; 
J. H. Lee, Latin and English TAterature ; J, 
Everts Piatt, Mathematics and Vocal Music ; 
H. J. Detmers, Veterinary Science and Animal 
Husbandry ; Fred. E. Miller, Practical Agricul- 
ture, and Superintendent oj the Farm; E. Gale, 
Horticulture, and Superintendent of the Nursery ; 
Lizzie J. Williams, Drawing and Tutor; 
Hattie V. Werden, Instrumental Music; Jennie 
Detmers, Chemistry and German ; Ambrose 
Todd, Mechanics. 

Number, of students (men and women), 
302. 

St. Benedict's Colleob (Atchison). 
Founded 1859; chartered 186S. President, 
Giles Chrbtoph; also Professor of Evidences 
of Christianity. 

Faculty and other college officers : Pimiin 
Konmly, Latin, also Prefect of Discipline; 
Urlean Bayer, Music and German; Peter 
Kassens, Mathematics and Book-keeping, aUo 
Prefect of Studies; Boniface F. Verheyen, 
English, Natural Philosophy, and Phonography ; 
Eugene Bode, Latin, History, and Geography ; 
W. H . K. Larish, Assistant. 

Number of students, 82. 

Uniyersitt of Kansas (Lawrence). 
(Report of 1872.) Founded 1864. President, 



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College Directory. 



35 



John Fruer; also Professor of Mental and 
Mmd Philosophy. 

Facoltj Aod other college offioen : DaTi'd 
B. RobiDSOQ, Ancient Languages and Liiera- 
twre; Frank H. Snow, Natural Sciences; 
Fiedfiric W. Bardwell, Mathenuxtics and En- 
gineering : £. P. Leonard, Modem Languages 
aod Painting ; D. O. Kellogg, English Lan- 
gnage and Literature ; Alh&rt'Sewmaa, Anato- 
my and Phgmology ; W. H. Saunders, Chem- 
istry; J. £. Bartlett, Music. 

Hnmber of itodents (men and women), 
227. 

WISCONSIN. 

Bbloit Collbob (Beloit). (Report of 
1S72.) Fomidedl847. President, Aaron L. 
Chapin ; also Professor of History and CivU 
PoHof. 

Facnltj and other college officeiB : Joseph 
Emerson, Greek; Jackson J. Bashnell, M<Uh- 
ematiaand Natural Philosophy ; William Por- 
ter, Lain ; James J. Blaisdell, Intellectual and 
Mond Philosophy; Ljman S. Rowhmd, Rhet- 
oric and English Literature ; James H. Eaton, 
Cltemistnf and Natural Science ; John P. Fisk, 
Principal of Preparatory Department; Peter 
Hendiickson, Modem Languages. 

Number of students, 197. 

Lawbbhob University (Appleton). 
Foanded 1 847. President, Geoi^ M. Steele ; 
aim Professor of Ethics and Civil Polity. 

Facoltj and other college officers : Hiram 
A. Jones, Ancient Languages and Idterature, 
also Librarian ; James C. Foye, Chemistry and 
Pkgsits ; Wilbnr F. Yocam, Mathematics and 
Astronomy; James li, Worman, Modem Hi*- 
toy and Languages; Oliver P. DeLand, 
Principal Commercial School; Margaret J. 
Evaos, Latin and German ; Loaise M. Hodg- 
kiai, FrenA and Botany; Annie C White, 
Preparatory Department; Selina A. Clarke, 
Draimng and Painting ; Sarah S. Fitch, Mutie. 

Number of students (men and women), 
389. 

MiLWAUKSB Fkmale Collbob (Mflwau- 
l^ee). (Report of 1873.) Founded 1848: 
IVesident, Mary Mortimer, with Helen M. 
Phillipg, Department of Moral and Mental Set- 
Moe amd Evidences of Christianity. 

Facoltj and other college officers : Helen 
F. Brace, Geography and History; Caroline 
£• Johnson, Mathematics and Natural Science ; 
Vmeea H. Love. Languages, Belles-Lettres, 
W Composition ; Florence White, Languages, 



Belles-Letires, Com}x>sition, and Gymnastics ; E. 
W. Lynde, Assistant; S. Ella Nichols, Primary 
School; Aldcn G. Faville, Vocal Music; Caro- 
line Mortimer, Piano; J. E. Mitchell, Piano; 
Ellen Z. Field, Drawing and Painting ; William 
Bayer, French and German, 
Number of students, 165. 

Raoinb Colleob (Racine). (Report of 
1872.) Founded 1852. President, James De 
Koven. 

Faculty and other college officers : Edward 

B. Spaulding, Head Master ; Homer Wheeler, 
Mathematics; Alexander Falk, History and 
German; J. J. Elmendorf, Philosophy and 
JBelles-Lettres ; Dan. Marvin, Greek: George 
W. Dean, Latin and Greek ; R. G. Hinsdale, 
Chemistry and Geology; Thomas D. Hits, 
English Literature; M. S. Vanlear Heard, 
Latik and Greek; G. B. Morgan, Tutor; M 
La Bombarie, French ; S. F. Avery, Assistant ; 
Amelia Piper, Assistant; Kate Piper, Assist- 
ant; G. J. Rowe, Choir Master; Henry E. 
ComweU, Curator. 

Number of students, 178. 

RiPON Collbob (Ripon). (Report of 
1872.) Founded 1863. President, William 
E. Merriman; also Professor of Mental and 
Moral Science. 

Faculty and officers : Edward H. Merrell, 
Greek; Theodore Wilder, Mathematics and 
Natural Philosophy; William M. Bristoll, 
Latin; Joseph M. Geery, Rhetoric and Eng- 
lish Literature; Lyman B. Sperry, Chemistry 
and Natw-al Science ; John C. Fillmore, Music ; 

C. T. Tracy, Botany; Lnthera H. Adams, 
Greek and Mathematics; Martha E. French, 
English Branches ; Frances E. Wilder, French; 
O. M. Nettleton, Vocal Culture. 

Number of students (men and women), 
328. 

UinvBBBiTTOF WiscowsiH (Bfadlsou). 
(Reportof 1872.) Founded 1848. President. 
J. H. Twombly ; also Professor of Mental and 
Moral Philosophy. 

Faculty and other officers : John W. Ster^ 
Ung, Natural Philosophy and Astronomy ; John 
B. Parkinson, Matltematics ; Stephen H. Car- 
pedter. Logic, Rhetoric, and English Literature ; 
William F. Allen, Latin and History; Alex- 
ander Kerr, Greek; John B. Feuling, Modem 
Languages and Comparative Philology ; W. W. 
DanicUs, Agriculture and Analytical Chemistry; 
tbhn £. Davies, Natftral History and Chemis- 
try; Roland D. Irving, Geology, Mining^ and 
Metallurgy; William J. L. Nioodemus, Mili- 
tary Science and Civil Engineering; R. B. An* 



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College Directory, 



derson, Languages ; L. 8. Dixon, Law ; Or- 
samof Cole, Law; William Penn Lyon, Law; 
H. S. Orton, Law; J. H. Carpenter, Law; 
William F. Vilas, Law ; D. B. Frankenbur- 
ger, Instructor; A. C. Parkinson, Instructor; 
Robert M. Baahford, Instructor; Stephen 
Leahey, Instructor ; D. E. Carson, Preceptress ; 
Josephine Magoon, Assistant Preceptress; 
Elizabeth S. Spencer, Instructor; Looisa 
Brewster, Drawing and Painting, 

Number of itndentB (men and women), 
485. 

MINNESOTA. 

Carlbton CoixaoB (Northfield). (Report 
of 1873.) Founded 1866. President, Jamee 
W. Strong. 

Faculty and other college officers : Horace 
Gk>odhue, Greek and Mathematics; William 
W. Payne, Natural Sciences; Sarah E. Dow, 
Principal of Ladies' Department; C. M. 
McClure, Music. 

Number of students, 88. 

St. John's Sbmiitabt (or Collbob) 
(St. Joseph). Founded 1867. President, 
Alexius Edelbrock ; also Professor of Dog- 
matic and Moral Theology and Ecdesiastioal 
History, 

Faculty and other officers : Bernard Locni- 
kar, VioO'President and Professor of Logic, 
Metaphysics, Ethics, and Latin; Wolfgang 
Northman, History, English, andGerman ; Ulric 
Northman, Christian Doctrine, Music, English 
Grammar, and History; James Kearney, 
Geography, Mathematics, Rhetoric, and Elocip- 
iion ; James Mooney, French, Latin, and Arith- 
metic ; Bartholomew Rajgelj, Logic, Metaphy- 
sics, Ethics, Latin, and German, also Chief 
Disciplinarian ; Meinard Leuthard, Book-keep- 
ing; Placid us Watry, Arithmetic, also Pre- 
fect of Discipline; Francis Merschman, 
Latin, Arithmetic, Algebra, and Book-keeping; 
Pankratius Machren, Natural Philosophy eutd 
Ihe^k; Paul Rettenmayer, HArtw and Latin; 
Aloysius Hermanutz, German, Rhetoric, Elo- 
cution; William Brennan, Ariihmetie; Alex- 
ander Christie, English Grammar, Spelling, and 
Readittg; Francis J. Preybil, Penmanship and 
Christian Doctrine; Max Wurst, Latin 'and 
German-English ; N. Steil, Drawing and Ardii' 
tecture. 

Noiaberiof students, UO. 

s 

Ubivbrsitt of MiiTNBSOTA (St. Antho> 
ny). (Report of 1872.) Founded 1868. 
President, Wflliam W. Folwell. 



Professors : G. Campbell, Moral and Intd- 
lectual Philosophy and German; Edward H. 
Twining, Chemistry and French; Versal J. 
Walker, Latin; Jabez Brooks, GreA; Aris B. 
Donaldson, Rhetoric and English Literature; 
Richard W. Johnson, Military Science; Ed- 
win J. Thompson, Mathematics; Arthur 
Beardaley, Civil Engineering and Industrial 
Mechanics, 

Number of students (men and mmeo), 
801. 

CALIFORNIA. 

St. Iobatius Collbob (San Francisco). 
(Report of 1873.) Founded 1858. Presi 
deat, J. Bayma, also Professor of Higher 
Mathematics. 

Faculty and other college officers : £. M. 
Nattini, Prefect ; J. Tadini, Mental PhiUmpky 
and Spanish ; J. M. Neri, Physics, Chemistry^ 
Practical Telegraphing, and Assaying; P. 
Raf!b, Mathematics; A, Maraschi, Treaewrer; 
F. J. Sulliyan, Classics, English Compoeitum, 
and Arithmetic ; A. Affiranchino, Clonics and 
English Grammar ; F. I. Prelato, Chaplain and 
Disciplinarian; T. Demasini, French; J. 
Sasia, Classics ; Charles B. Mahon, Glassies, 
English Rhetoric, Arithmetic, and Penmanship; 
J. P. Donoghoe, Mathematics, Commerdal 
Science, and English Grammar ; J. D. Sulli- 
yan, Book-keeping, English Grammar, and 
Arithmetic, 

Number of students, 559. 

UviVBRSiTT OF Califorbia (Oakland). 
Founded 1855. President, Daniel C. Oil- 
man. 

Faculty : John Le Conte, Physics and In- 
dustrial Mechanics; Martin Kellogg, Latin 
and Greek; Joseph Le Conte, Geology and 
Natural History; William T. Welcker, Mathe- 
matics; Paul Pioda, Modern Languages ; Esra 
S. Carr, Agriculture, Agricultural Chemistry, 
Horticulture ; William Swinton, English Lan- 
Quage, Rhetoric, History; Willard B. Rising, 
Chemistry and Metallurgy; Frank Soule, Civil 
Engineering and Astronomy ; Stephen J. Field, 
Law ; George Davidson, Geodesy and Hydrog- 
raphy; S^uel Jones, Mathematics; George 
W. Bunnell, Ancient Languages; Robert B. 
Ogilby, Drawing; Julius Grossmann, Ger- 
man; Manuel M. Corella, Spanish; Jamss 
M. Phillips, H^ew and Syriae. 

Number of students, 185. 

Ubxtbrbitt Collbob of Sab Fbab- 
01800 (Saa Francisco). Founded 186S. 



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Preodent, W. Alexander, alao Professor of 
Rketoricj IntdleCLucd and Moral Philosophif, and 
Logic. 

Facnltj: Thomas Kirkland, Andent Lan- 
Suages, and Master of Senior Academic Depart- 
meut; Thomas A. Kobinsoo, Mathematics; 
Thomas Price, Chemistry and Physics ; C N. 
Ellinwood, Physiology ; E. Bentley, Compara- 
the Anatomy ; H. Gibbons, jnn., Botany and 
Gtdogy; J. B. Robertson, Master of Junior 
Academic Department; Charles F. Morel, 
Frad and Spanish ; E. A. Hosemann, Ger- 
mas; Charles Prosch, Drawing; M. K. Lau- 
den, Sftperintendent, History of Commerce^ and 
Buimt Ccrrespondence ; W. E. Chamberlain, 
Jan., Business Department, Commercial Science, 
and Business Customs; T. Benton Julian, 
Theoretical Business Department, Book-keeping ;» 
Thomas A. Robinson, Accounts; P. A. 
Espina, Penmanship; C. C. Erich, Teleg- 
rapfcjf; R Espinasse, Navigation and Nau- 
tJcal Astronomy; W. Alexander, Political 
EroHomy; A. J. Bowie (Emeritns), Surgery ; 
J- F. Morse (En^tns), Medicine; Henry 
GihboDs, Medicine and Clinical Medicine; L. 
C. Lane, Surgery, Anatomy, and Clinical Sur- 
gerji ; Edwin Bentley, Descriptive and Micro- 
Kopic Anatomy and Pathology ; Clinton Cush- 
ing, Obstetrics and Diseases of Women and ChU- 
dren ; L. C. Lane, Ophthalmology and Otology ; 
Thomas Price, Chemistry arid Toxicology; 
Henry Gibbons, Materia Medioa and Therxt- 
pevtia; Rev. W. A. Scott. Mental and Moral 
' Sdenoe and Theology ; Rev. George Bur- 
Powes, Hebrew and Oid Testament Literature ; 
Ber.D. W. Poor, Biblical and Ecdesiastieal 



History and Ckareh Government; Rev. W. 
Alexander, Biblical Greek and New Testament 
Literature,. 

Number of ttndents, — . 

Unitbrsitt of thb Pacifio (Santa 
Clara). Foonded 1854. President, A. 8. 
Gibbons; also Professor of Intellectual and 
Moral Science, 

Facaltj : 0. S. Frambes, Mathematics ; J. 
N. Martin, Ancient Languages; George M. 
Schack, Voccd and Instrumental Music; A. J. 
Hanson, Ancient Languages; Mrs. S. £S. 
Frambes, Preceptress; Miss K. F. Lefler, 
Preparatory Department; Mrs. Louise M. 
Curtis, Ornamaital Branches, 

Number of students (men and women), 
136. 

OREGON. 

WiLLAMBTTB Uniybbsitt (Sslcm). (Re- 
port of 1872.) Founded 1853. President, 
Thomas M. Gatch ; also Professor of Ancient 
Languages, 

Faculty and other college officers : Leonard 
J. Powell, Mathematics; Lowell L. Rogers, 
Natural Science; Edmund J. Waller, Lan- 
guages; Mary M. Adams, Modem Languages ; 
Ellen J. Chamberlin, Preparatory Department; 
G. Berry, Music; E. R. Fiske, Pathology; H. 
Carpenter, Surgery; D. Payton, Physiology 
and Microscopy; E. Y. Chase, Anatomy; S. 
C. Simpson, Medical Jurisprudence, 

Number of students (men and women), 
27a 



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INDEX TO 

"OLD MD NEW" COLLEGE DIEECTOEY. 



JULY, 1873. 



[C— College. I.— Institute. 8.— Seminaiy. U.— UniTerrity.] 



AWnffdon C, AblngdoB, III., 20. 
Adrian C, Adrian, Ifioh., 22. 
. Albion C., Albion, llloh . 22. 
Alkntown Fern. C, Alientown, Penn., IS. 
AlmIrA C, GreenrUle. HI., 29. 
Almln Female C, Almlra. N.T., 8. 
Amhent O.. Amherst, Mass., 2. 
AndaJuia C^ Andalusia, Penn.. 1.3. 
Antioeb C, Yellow Springs, O.. 23. 
Animni Theol. 8em., Aobam, N.T., 0. 
Ao^ttana C, Paxton. 111., 20. 
Baldwin U., Berea, 0.. 23. 
Baltiowre Fem. C, Baltimore, Md., 17. 
Bmm C Lewiatoo. Me., 1. 
Bajlor U., Independence, Tex., 22. 
Beloit C, Beioit, WU., 35. 
Berea C, Berea, Ky., 21. 
Bethel C. RosM^lWfllejKyM 21. 
Bethany C, Bethany, W. Va.,20. 
Bteefcbnm U., CarlinTille, 111., 20. 
Bordentown Fern. C. Bordentown, N.J., U. 
Boston C, Boston, Mass., 2. 
Boston U., Boston, Mass., 2. 
Bovdoin C., Brunswick, Me.. 1. 
Brookrille C, BrookrlUe, Ind., 27. 
Brown U^ Providence, R.I., 5. 
BvUncton C, Burlington. N.J., 13. 
CspttalUM Columbus, O., 2i. 
Csrleton C., Northfleld, Minn., 30. 
CUekasaw Fem. C, Pontotoc, Miss., 221. 
Cfaidnnati Wesleyan C. Cincinnati, O., 24. 
CWbr U., Watenrllle, Me^ 1. 
Cof aiy of N. Y., New York, N.Y., «. 
C. of New Jersey, Princeton, N.J., 12. 
Cof Phys. it Surgeons, New York, N.Y., 7. 
a or St. Franda XaTiei% New York, N.Y., 7. 
C. of the Holy Cross, Worcester, Mass., 3. 
Cof WnUam and Mary, WiUlamsburg, Va., 10. 
Oslmblan U., Washington, D.O., 18. 
CoraeU C, Mt. Vernon, Iowa, 32. 
CoraeU U.. Ithaea, N.Y., 7. 
Cottage Hill C, York. Penn., 13. 
Croxer Tbeol. Sem.. Upland, Penn., 13. 
Camberland U.^Lebanon, Tenn., 21. 
Dartmoath C^ Hanorer, N.H., L 
Bcalson U^ Granville, O., 24. 
Be Veaox C., Sospension Bridge, K.Y., 8. 
Dickinson C. Carlisle. Penn., 13. 
Drew TheoL »em., Madison, N.J., 12. 
laribam C, Riebmond, Ind., 27. 
EasiTenn. U., Knoxrllle, Tenn., 21. 
Eslcctk) Medio. I., CindnnaU, O., 24. 
Baory and Henry C Emory, Ya., 10. 
IveluC.,Baf«ka,IU.,29. 
Hwry HaU a, I^ake Forest, m.^ 20. 



Franklin C, Franklin, Ind., 27. 

Franklin and Marshall C Lancaster, Penn., 13. 

Georgetown C, Georgetown, D.C., 18. 

Georgia Female C, Madison, Ga., 20. 

German Wallace C, Berea, O., 24. 

Glendale Fem. C, Glendale, O., 24. 

Gonzaga C, Washington. D.C, 18. 

Granville Fem. C, Granville, O., 24. 

Hamilton C. Clinton. N.Y., 8. 

Hampden Sidney C, Prince Edward Co., Va., 10. 

Hanover C, Hanover, Ind., 28. 

^artwlck S., Hartwick Sem., P.O., Otsego Co., 

N.Y., 8. 
Harvard C, Cambridge, Mass., 3. 
Haverford C, West Haverford, Penn., 14. 
Heidelberg C, Tiffin, O.,^. 
Highland U., Highland, Kan., 84. 
Hillsborough Fem. C, Hillsborough, O., 28. 
Hillsdale C, Hillsdale, Mich., 22. 
Hiram C, Hiram, O., 26. 
Hobart C, Geneva, N.Y;, 8. 
Howard U., Washington, D.O., 18. 
Hlinois C, Jacksonville, 111., ». 
I Illinois Female C, Jacksonville, 111., 20. 
HUnois Industrial U., Urbana, HI.. 80. 
lUinois Soldiers' C, Fulton. lU., sd. 
Indiana U., Bloomington, Ind., 28. 
Ingham U., Le Boy, N.Y., 0. 
Iowa Agric. C, Ames, lo., 82. 
Iowa C, GrinneU, Iowa, 32. 
Iowa State U., Iowa City, lo., 82. 
Iowa Tabor C. Tabor, lo., 33. 
Jeflbrson Med. C, Philadelphia, Penn., 14. 
Kalamazoo C. Kalamazoo, Mich., ZL 
Kansas State Agric. C, Manhattan, Kan.^ 84. 
Kentucky Wesleyan U.* Millersbiug, Ky., 21. 
Kenyon C., Gambler, O., 25. 
Knox C, Galesburg, 111.^. 
Lawrence U., Appleton, Wis., 88. 
Lehigh U., South Bethlehem, Penn., 14. 
Lafkvette C, £a<)ton, Penn., 14. 
Lombard U., Galesburg, 111., 30. 
Loyola C. Baltimore, Md., 17. 
MoGee 0., College Moundjjfo., 38. 
McKendree C. Lebanon, in., 30. 
Madison U., Hamilton, N.Y., 0. 
Maine State C. of Agr., Orono, Me., L 
Manhattan C, New York, N.Y., 0. 
Marietta C, Marietta, O., 25. 
Mass. Agric. C^ Amherst, Mass., 4. 
Mass. Inst, of Technology, Boston, Mass., 4> 
Meadvllle Theol. Sch., MeadTille. Penn., 14. 
Medio. C. of Georgia, Augusta, Ga., 20. 
Med. Dept. of U., Bufialo, N.Y., 11. 
Meroersborg C, Meroersborg, Penn., 14. 



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MUiinl U., Oxft)rd. O., 25. 

Middlebury C, Micidlebury Vt.. S. 

Milwaukee Fein. C, Milwaukee, Wis., 8S. 

Monmouth C, Monmouth. 111., 30. 

Moravian C. Bethlehem, Penn., 14. 

3It. Holyoke Fem. 6em., So. Hadley, Mass., i. 

Mt. St. Mary*8 College. Emmitsburg Md., 17. 

Mount Union C, Alliance. O., 25. 

New Church Theol. Sch., Waltham, Mass., 6. 

Northwestern Christian U.. Indianapolis Ind., 28. 

Northwestern C, Naperville, III., 30. 

Northwestern U., Evanston. III., 31. 

Oberlin COberlin, O., 25. 



r.T.,«, 

.14. 
in., 15. 



Falrfkz Co., 



a., 19. 

1. 



10. 

o.,8S. 

8eton"Hi'l C.\ 8wth"d«iM^^^ ITJ., 12. 

ShurtleirC, Upper Alton, lit., 31. 

Smlthson C, Logansport, Ind., 28. 

Bute A ffrio. C, Lansing. Mioh. , 23. 

Sterens In. of Teohnology, Uoboken, NX, IS. 

Swarthmore C., Swarthmore, DeUwara OOh 

Penn., 15. 
Syraoase U., Sjraeiue, N.T., 10. 
Thiel 0., Greenville, Penn.. 16. 
Theol, 8. of Presb. Ch., PrinoetoA, N.J^ U. 



Theol. S. of Reformed Cli.» New Bnmswlek, VJ^ 

IS- • 

Theol. 8. of United Presb. Ch., Allegheny Oty, 

Penn., 15. 
Tongaioo U.. Tongaloo, Miss., 22. 
Trinity C, Hartford. Conn., 5. 
Tufts C., Medford, Mass., 5. 
Union C. Schenectady, N.Y., 10. 
U. of Buflklo, Bufnilo, N.Y. 11. 
U. of California, Oakland, Cal.. 80. 
U. of Cblcagro, Chicago, lU., 31. 
U. of City of N. Y., New York, N.Y. 11. 
0. C. of San Francisco, San Francisco, CaLf 88b 
U. Fem. Institute. Lewlsburg, Penn., 15. 
U. of Kansas, Lawrence. Kan., 34. 
U. of Loulsviile, Louisrille, Ky.. 21. 
U. of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mien., 28. 
U. of Minnexota, St. Anthony, Minn., 30. 
U. of Notre Dame, Notre Dame, Ind., 28. 
U. of Pennsylvania. Philadelphia, Penn., 10. 
U. of Rochester, Rochester, N.Y.. 11. 
U. of the Pacific, SanU Clara, Cal., .^7. 
U. of the South, Sewanee, Tenn., 22. 
U. of State of Missouri, Columbia, Mo., 38. 
U. of Vt. and State Agr. C. Burlington, Vt, %, 
U. of Virginia, CharlottesTille, Va., 90. 
U of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis., 35. 
Urbana U., Urbana, O.. 26. 
Vassar C, Poughkeepsie, N.Y., 11. 
Villanova C, Delaware Co., Penn., 10. 
Virginia Military I., Lexington. Va., 19. 
Wabash C, CrawfordsTille, Ind., 28. 
Washington U., St. Louis, Mo., 84. 
Washington and JelDerson C, Washington, 

Penn., 10. 
Washington and Lee U., Lezidgton, Ya., SO. 
Wavnesburg C, Waynesburg, renn., 10. 
Wesleyan U., Bloomington, 111., 32. 
Wesleyan U., Middletown, Conn., 0. 
Western Reserve C, Hudson, O., 20. 
Western Theol. 8., Allegheny City, Penn., 18. 
Western U. of Pa , Pittsburgh, Penn., 17. 
Westfleld C, Westfleldjill , 32. 
Westminister C, New Wilmington, Penn., 17. 
Wheaton C, Wheaton, 111., 32. 
Wheeling Fem. C Wheeling, W. Ya., 20. 
Williamotte U., Salem, Or^., 37. 
Wilberforce U., Xenia, O.. 27. 
Williams C, Wililamstown, BCast., 0. 
Wllloughby C, WUloughby, O., 27. 
Wittenberg C, Springfield, O., 27. 
Woman's Med. C. of Pa., Philadelphia, Penn., 17. 

5. 
Wooster U., Wooster, O., 27. 
Woroester Co. Free Institnte, WoroMtar, Maaai, 
Xenla C, Xenla. O., 27. 
Yale G.» New.Hmven, Ck>nn., •• 



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OLD AND NEW. 

Vol. VIIL— august, 1873.— No. 2. 



It is now forty years, more or less, since some of the leading Liberals 
in England united in the determination to establish a new university 
on a plan wholly different from that of either university then existing 
in Great Britain or in Ireland. The, plan was fairly enough described 
the other day in parliament by somebody who said that it was a 
university which taught nothing. It is precisely so ; but it should 
be added, that it differs from other universities also, in this, — that 
it does not pretend to teach any thing : it only examines the results 
of institutions which do teach. It appoints a board of examiners, 
who, at certain fixed periods every year, examine all comers, and 
grant to them such degrees, as, on the standard of this university, 
they are entitlect to. This standard has always been very high, and 
k, as I am disposed to think, now higher than ever. It is intimated, 
indeed, in conversation, that the degree of the London University 
implies a training more thorough than the corresponding degree of 
either Cambridge or Oxford. 

You may see at the present moment, in the London newspapers, 
an Muouncement that the University of London is ready to choose 
examiners for the next year. * The names of the present incumbents, 
including some names of great distinction, are given, and their salaries ; 
which are quite sufficient to make compensation for a considerable 
time given to the service. It is added, in the published announce- 
ment, that an election is to be made ; that all the present incumbents 
.are candidates for re-election: so that this announcement may be 
taken as fro forma. But it gives a good indication of the importance 

attached to the service. 

t ■ 

•eeordlBff to Act of CobckMi bi th« ywv ISTS, bj tb« Pbopbiitobi or Olx» asd Nb v, la the olBot 
•f tlu libncUa of Congmtat Wuhington. 
Vok VIUL-Kaa. 129 



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130 Old and New. 

On the 14tli of May th^ university held its annual ceremony of 
Presentation. The occasion corresponds precisely to the Commence- 
ment of an American college. The details of the arrangement are 
as far removed from those of an American Commencement as they 
oan be. In America, the young men make the addresses : in London, 
they are silent, and the chancellor addresses them. In America, 
they march up in a crowd, receive a heavy load of diplomas, and 
divide them at their pleasure : in London, each candidate advances 
separately, and receives his own diploma personally from the chan- 
cellor. 

I had the good fortune to be present at th^ ceremonial, and to hear 
the addresses of Earl Granville and of Mr. Robert Lowe of the senate 
of the university. Two hundred and one persons recfived diplomas ; 
and the names of seven women were read, who had passed examina- 
tions entitling them to the diplomas, had any been given to their sex. 
All these persons were from a great number of institutions in all 
. parts of England. The first six — who had presented themselves for 
matriculation nearly a year ago. and had received some distinction, 
as an "exhibition " or a medal — will illustrate the range of schools 
which are entitled to take diplomas from the university. These 
young men were from University College School, London ; Normal 
College, Swansea ; Kings College, London ; Amersham Hall Mission 
School, Blackheath ; Liverpool Institute ; and the Bristol Grammar 
School. 

There were in all twenty-three undergraduates who received these 
distinctions in this honorable and public way. I observed that they 
represent seventeen different schools, and in two cases are spoken of 
as trained by private study. Among these were some who had 
passed the first examination for bachelor of arts. 

Eighty persons then took4;hat degree ; eleven, the degree of bachelor 
of science ; fourteen, that of bachelor of laws ; twenty-five, that of 
bachelor of medicine ; four, that of bachelor of surgery ; ten, that 
of master of arts ; one, that of master of surgery ; two, that of doctor 
of science ; two, that of doctor of laws ; and nine, that of doctor of 
medicine. Observe that all of these degrees are granted only after 
strict examination. Three persons passed their first " scriptural ex- 
amination." Dr. Carpenter, who is the registrar, read a report of 
every examination held through the year. Two hundred and one 
candidates, in all, had passed in these examinations. Of these we 
saw the prizemen only, from among the undergraduates ; and we 
saw the names at least of the seventy-eight graduates, as above. 

Indeed, we saw most of them personally. The ceremonial is inter- 



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Old and New. 131 

estiDg. The hall is an amphitheatre with seats for, perhaps, five 
hundred people, and a spacious gallery above. It was well filled. 
The senate of the university sat in a line on the dais on the straight 
side. In front of them was a large semicircular space ; and the first 
semicircle of seats was occupied by gentlemen in gowns and caps, 
showing the various costumes of different universities, who were. In 
general, the heads of the colleges to which the young men belonged, 
and were to present them. On the right of the senate were the 
prizemen and other successful candidates. The rest of the hall was 
filled with gentlemen and ladies. Earl Granville, the present foreign 
mmister of England, is chancellor, and presided. He was robed in 
the full costume of an Oxford doctor of laws, — a black silk gown 
with heavy gold bands. Among the senate were Sir John Lubbock 
and Mr. Lowe, the chancellor of the exchequer. 

The registrar read one by one the names of the young men ; and 
each one advanced, in his turn, alone. He met on the floor, in front 
of the senate, the teacher or other person who was to present him ; 
who took him by the hand, and led him up the step to Earl Gran- 
ville. The candidate bowed to. Earl Granville, who gave him his 
degree or his medal, and then, in every instance, shook hands with 
him also. The new master or bachelor then bowed again, and retired. 
The ceremonial is very pleasant, and gives just the right impression 
that a personal distinction has been fairly won. Meanwhile there are 
students enough in the audience to give applause on each occasion ; 
and in cases of marked success, or of especial favorites, this applause 
was loud and long. 

After this ceremony, which occupied more than an hour. Earl Gran- 
ville made an interesting address on the position of the university, and 
the success of the plan which I have been trying to describe. Ha 
said that people had been swift to say it was not succeeding, because 
the number of graduates did not increase largely. But he called 
attention to the figures, which show, that, in the first five years of 
its existence, the university graduated about seventy persons annu- 
ally from eighty or ninety applying ; while in the last five years, 
fjoagh it has not graduated more than eighty persons annually, it 
y^ been from nearly a hundred and eighty applicants every year. It 
tt evideat, therefore, that the severity of its examinations has steadi- 
V increased, and yet that more and more persons see the value of its 
degree; which is the great point in the estimation of all persons 
^tereated in its success. 

«^ touched, all too lightly, on a question which has divided them, 
^ to requiring Greek as a requisite for their B. A. and M.A. degree. 



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132 Old and New. 

The convocation, which is their law house, had decidjed in favor of 
retaining Greek ; but the senate, which is the executive, had decided 
in exactly the other way. Earl Granville was as non-committal as a 
diplomatist always is on the real question involved. He begged us to 
understand, that, as to the great question as to the value of Greek, 
the senate hfid decided nothing : they had only decided that so little 
Greek as had previously been demanded — an amount so small, that 
it could be got up by mere cramming — was of little more value than 
none ; and that they had dispensed with this, without deciding, or 
pretending to decide, the main question. I doubt if this explanation 
of a change, which is, after all, material, is satisfactoify to the convo- 
cation. 

Earl Granville alluded with just pride to the success of the Univer- 
sity, and the reputation obtained by its examination. He brought 
down a well-deserved round of applause by observing, that, of the 
three successful candidates in the first scriptural examination, one is 
a Roman Catholic, one is a member of the Established Church, and 
one a Nonconformist (Unitarian). The speech was in no sort formal : 
it contained one or two amusing anecdotes, and was well received. 
He then introduced Mr. Lowe, the chancellor of the exchequer, who 
is of the senate, and has always interested himself in the university. 
He made a strong statement of his wish that the women might be 
examined, if they chose, in all branches. It seems that the examina- 
tions of women are now confined to certain branches supposed to be 
more strictly feminine. I think teachers are those who undergo 
them, with a wish to obtain the grade of the university or its verdict 
as to their ability. Mr. Lowe made a very good point in comparing 
these examinations with those of universities whose own professors 
are the judges of the success of their own institutions. 

I observe, that, apaft from schools whicJh had prepared undergradu- 
ates, there are twenty-six different colleges whose pupils receive 
degrees of B.A. and B;Sc. Then most of the hospitals oflfer candi- 
dates for the medical degrees. E. e. h. 



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MY TIME, AND WHAT I'VE DONE WITH IT. 

BY P. O. BUBNAND. 



CHAPTER XVn. 

SnrGHUBST THEATBICALS. — THEAT- 
BICALS IN GENERAL. — MRS. CAV- 
AKDBB. — A HAPPY COUPLE. — THE 
PBBFOBHANCE FINISHED. — ANOTH- 
BB YOUNG LADY ON THE SCENE. 
— A FAREW^L TO AUSTIN. — I 
RETURN TO OLD CARTER'S. — PREP- 
ARATION FOB HOLYSHADB. — MY 
PROGRBSS, 

Thb theatricals at Binghurst (for 
which Mr. Vemey was unable to stay ; 
being summoned to town profession- 
ally) were merely a good specimen 
of what I have since known private 
theatricals to be everywhere, without 
exception, — bustle and hurry ; every 
one wanting assistance from every one 
else, and wondering at everybody's 
selfishness. Laces, that have been 
strong up to within a minute of being 
wanted, suddenly snap. Gum, from 
which at any other moment there 
would have been no escape, now 
playing the unfortunate cavalier false 
in the matter of mustaches. The hand- 
some young gentleman who has to 
" make himself up " for a lover fails 
signally in an attempt to give him- 
self a beautiful complexion with car- 
mine and bismuth, and comes down 
looking uncommonly like a clown. 
The agitation of the hand which is to 
make a delicate line of black causes a 
smudge on the cheek, as if you had 
commenced a cartoon there with char- 
coal The experienced amateur — 
who has selected the part of a hoary- 
headed veteran, whose gray hairs are, 
daring the piece, well-nigh brought 
down with sorrow to the grave, and 
who has a vast amount of stirring sen« 



timent and manly pathos to deliver 
himself of in consequence — sud^ 
denly, and at the last moment, appears 
on the scene with his entire head ap- 
parently fresh from a plunge into the " 
flour-tub, with just so much of it 
wiped away as will enable him to see 
with occasional blinking; which spas- 
modic movement of the eyes, however, 
might be taken for a sign of sup- 
pressed emotion. The audience, at 
first, recognize jn this extraordinary 
character neither the experienced ama- 
teur, nor the veiyerable papa of the mis- 
guided youth (a young gentleman 
addicted to card-sharping), but laugh 
heartily under the impression that it 
is the comic man disguised, for some 
reason or other, as the baker, and sa- 
lute him accordingly. 

Dresses supposed to be "all right," 
and therefore allowed to pass muster 
without being tried on, are suddenly 
discovered to be all wrong. The im- 
possibility of playing the Young Pre- 
tender in the costume of Francis the 
First has, somehow or other, to be got 
over. 

Ingenuity comes to the rescue. 
Pins are in great request, and oaths 
plentiful, with apologies. Nobody's 
drink is secure from anybody who is 
thirsty. All are thirsty. Everybody 
wishes everybody else out of the way. 
Books have been mislaid; and the 
prompter, who has craftily secreted 
his, is now waylaid, and has it wrest^ 
ed from him by some unfortunate 
amateur, who, in piteous tones, cries, 
" Do let me hav^ it. I'll give it you 
back directly ; but I hwve to go on 
first:' 

Eveiy one doubts his own appear- 



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My Timey and What I^ve Done with B. 



ance, and is full of congratulations 
for every one else, with a view to being 
congratulated in turn. All excite- 
ment 

Then the voices won't pitch them- 
selves properly ; everybody being more 
or less inaudible, with the solitary ex- 
ception of the prompter, whose every 
word can be heard, causing irrepressi- 
*ble titters among those of the audi- 
ence most remote from the stage. Mr. 
feoanerges, whom, ordinarily, you have 
to request not to speak quite so loud, 
comes on to say ten lines of dialogue ; 
and, for all one can hear of him from 
the front, he might as well be per- 
forming the part of a dumb slave in a 
ballet of action, only that he has about 
as much action as the old-fashioned 
flat wooden doll, with hardly chiselled 
features and a black beard, whose 
arms and legs are moved by one 
string. 

The best memories fail The ovep- 
zealous prompter gives the word twen- 
ty times when the unfortunate actor 
has only paused for dramatic effect; 
or he has lost the place in the prompt- 
book, or is giving directions about the 
lights, just at a critical moment, when 
the whole dramatis personce have 
come to a dead lock. These things 
will happen even in the very best 
regulated private theatricals ; and so, 
I suppose, those at Hinghurst were 
no exception to the rule. I thought 
them perfection. 

Alice looked lovely as a marquise ; 

and Cavander attended her in the 

greeii-room, on the pretence of holding 

. her book, and hearing her her part, up 

to the last minute. 

There was a lady looked into this 
green-room, and, fearing lest she might 
be on forbidden gropnd, withdrew; 
but, as if acting upon a second 
thought; looked in again to sa,i% — 

** James — I beg your pao^on, Miss 



Alice: how charming you look! — I 
only want to speak to James a mo- 
ment.*' 

" Oh 1 come in, Mrs. Cavander/' said 
Miss Alice graciously. 

Mrs. Cavander had arrived that 
evening. I did not remember having 
heard any mention of her before this. 
At first it occurred to me that it 
might be Mr. Cavander's mother ; but 
her appearance at once dispelled this 
notion. Cavander himself seemed to 
be a little annoyed. I could not rec- 
ognize, at that time, that Mrs. Cavan- 
der resembled the stage-coach, which 
was very useful in its day, but has 
been superseded by steam. When 
James Cavander, years ago, was on 
the lookout for a lift along the road 
of life, this heavy vehicle had picked 
him up, and had helped him on hia 
way. 

She was a fiuffy woman with dum- 
py nails. A bolster tied round tight- 
ly with a string would have had as 
much pretcBsion to figure as Mrs* 
Cavander. Her portrait taken when 
she was a girl represents as comelj 
and buxom a lass as any yeoman's 
daughter need be. 

She worshipped her husband ; and 
the object of her idolatry thought her 
a fool for her superstition. If she 
talked of his faults to her confidential 
friends, it was only to palliate them, 
and excuse him. If she came to her 
intimates with a tale of her being 
hardly treated or neglected, she would 
tell the fact as a fable, whereof the 
moral was, that James was not to 
blame, and that she was treated accord- 
ing to her deserts. At first her 
friends pitied her, but, before long, lost 
patience with her. She complained, 
and would hear of no remedy. She 
had expended all the spirit she had 
ever possessed, when she had insisted 
upon marrying in obedience to the 



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dictates of her own heart So she 
liad her moneji and went her way. 
Her father washed his hands of the 
t&ir. She was entitled to a certain 
sum at her own disposal ; hut not one 
penny more would the old man give 
her. She invested her property in 
James Cavander; and Mr. Griffiths, 
a well-to-do country solicitor, did not 
approve the speculation. Betsy, how- 
ever, was obstinate. Fluffy people, 
when obstinate, are hopeless. You 
can't break pillows. Olaiss offers for- 
midable resistance, and retaliates 
cruelly. A pillow yields with the fee-' 
blest opposition. Tou do not hurt your- 
self or it by offering violence. After a 
contention in which your pummellings 
are active, and the pillow pummelled 
is passive, both remain as before; 
the pummeller having the worst of it. 
So Betsy Griffiths insisted placidly 
on being Mrs. Cavander, and ran away 
with him ; or rather to him, for he did 
not go out of his way to fetch her. 
What was the use, if she was deter- 
mined ? Evidently none ; only a waste 
of time and money. ' 

Mrs. Cavander was now as obstinate 
as ever; not that she was not plia- 
ble as fresh putty in her husband's 
hand, for whom she would have done 
any thing : but this was the effect 0£ 
her obstinacy, and her obstinacy was 
the effect of her infatuation. She 
persisted in loving him obstinately, 
with a dumb animal kind of attach- 
ment, which is not reasonable affec- 
tion. 

Mrs. Van Clym was a friend of 
hers. My aunt congratulated her- 
self on having brought Mrs. Cavander 
over to her own particular way of 
thinking in religious matters. This 
Mrs. Clym called " conversion.*'^ She 
was wrong about Mrs. Cavander, who 
would agree with any friend, on any 
leligious question, as long as she heiv 



self could obtain a listener and a tem- 
porary confidant for her own sorrows. 
At Binghurst she was mildly charmed 
with Alice's talk about Gothic church- 
es, altars, vestments, and her sort of 
enthusiastical mysticism. Alice, in 
her turn, thought her a convert to 
High Churchism, and began to see an 
additional reason for her husband 
becoming a believer. 

Mrs. Cavander, with a Wesley an, 
would have been, negatively, a Wes- 
leyan; with a Catholic, a Catholic; 
with an Irvingite, an Irvingite : in fact, 
all things to all women, only let them, 
in turn, listen to her tale of woe. 

" Bah I "'said Mrs. Clym, after some 
experience of her, ^' she has as much 
real religion as a pudding." 

The truth was, Mrs. Cavander had 
no vacancy in her little mind for 
such matters. The object of her wor- 
ship was James Cavander. The cause 
of her sorrow was James Cavander. 
She was devil's advocate against him ; 
and then she refused to admit her own 
testimony, and finally canonized him. 

'' I do hope. Miss Alice," said Mrs. 
Cavander in the course of conversa- 
tion this evening, ^' that you will keep 
your promise of coming up and stay- 
ing with us." 

James Cavander smiled. 

" Then," he said, " we shall be able 
to continue our arguments. You must 
come and stay with my wife as a mis- 
sionary." 

Alice would be delighted, she re- 
plied ; only Mrs. Cavander must obtain 
mamma's consent, for which this amia- 
ble wife promised to ask at once. 
Then, on her husband's arm, and sat- 
jsfied with having done her duty, and, 
at all events, pleased him^ Mrs. Cav- 
ander returned to the drawing-room, 
where the audience were impatiently 
awaitinf the rise of the curtain. 
The pe^fiijrmaQce of the j uniors went 



/ 



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My Time^ and What Pve Done with M. 



off with great satisfaction to them- 
selves ; and we were allowed to come 
to sapper in our costames. Fatima 
was considerably taller than her Blue- 
beard; but this difference exhibited 
in the strongest colors the mysterious 
moral ascendency which Baron Abom- 
elique had gained over his imhappy 
spouse : ind I waved my wooden cimi- 
ter over the kneeling Fatima's devoted 
h^ad (who begged me to content myself 
with cutting off her locks) with a 
bloodthirsty air. There was some- 
thing soothing to my wounded feel- 
ings (for, since Cavander had appeared, 
I had had scarcely a word from Alice) 
in having her at my mercy, even in a 
play, for a few minutes. If Garrick 
in a rage was six feet high, I, in this 
scene, was conscious of at least seven 
years and eighteen inches having 
been added to my life and my stature. 

As for Alice, she was the centre of 
attraction. After the perfornoance, 
every one crowded about her , and com- 
pliments were showered on her from 
all sides. 

Cavander simply congratulated her, 
and left her to be worshipped. 

He knew that the morrow was for 
him. Our party staying in the house 
had been swelled by our theatrical 
friends (who were to leave on the day 
after the performance) and by the 
Cavanders (who were to stop on for 
some little* time). The Cavanders 
were Mr. James, his wife, and sister. 
The last was a brown-haired, mild- 
&ced girl, many years younger than 
her brother, whom she only faintly 
resembled in her eyes.. She had l&ot 
been long away firom school (so Aus- 
tin told me) ; and, but for her brother's 
success in the city. Miss Cavander 
would have had to turn her education 
to some account, perhaps as a govern- 
ess. Indeed, I have since heard, that 
for various reasons^ which I should 



not have understood then, but do now 
(as also will those who peruse this rec- 
ord of our family), Mrs. Van Clym 
had at one time entertained the idea 
of engaging James Cavander's sister 
as governess for my cousins. Cavan- 
der himself had heard of the offer, 
and had not forgotten it. It was, of 
course, declined, with such expres- 
sions of good-will and esteem as or- 
dinary civility, and the relative posi- 
tions of the parties, required. 

Miss Cavander played the piano 
with great skill, but without much 
feeling. There was just that differ- 
ence between her style and Alice's. 
Alice played partly from ear, partly 
from notes, never for show, always 
from liking. Miss Cavander per- 
formed as if she were invariably play- 
ing something that no one else coidd 
attempt, which, faoltless in execution, 
should create about as much sympa- 
thy in the hearers as a schoolboy's 
Greek declamation on a speech-day. 
Her fingerrtips turned upwards ; and 
her nails always seemed as if they 
had just come from under the scissors. 
She dressed neatly, and appeared 
homely, which, interpreted by society, 
means more or less stupid; though 
Miss Cavander was only apathetic 
until she thought her own interests 
involved, and then, somehow or an- 
other, she managed to have her own 
way without getting off her chair, or 
allowing her ordinary occupations to 
be for one instant interrupted. To 
sum her up once and for all, Miss 
Cavander was an influence, — all the 
more powerful because unsuspected. 
Once admitted into a family, she 
seemed to mingle with the atmos- 
phere, and impalpably to pervade the 
entire household. And this descrip- 
tion will be found to hold good when 
Miss Cavander shall be encountered 
once more, later on in this story. As 



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she had nowhere else to go, she lived 
at her brother's, where she was a 
check upon Mrs. Cavander, and of 
ooDsiderable assistance, for domestic 
purposes, to Mr. James. 

The time at last came for separa- 
tion.. Austin was not returning to 
Old Carter's. I was going there for 
one quarter more. Holjshade was 
then mj destination ; and Austin, 
whose health was delicate, was to be 
accompanied by a private tutor to the 
south of France. 

We cried bitterly at parting; and 
promised to write frequently. 

Garter's had changed: Mr. Venn 
had gone ; some of the elder boys had 
left ; and so had some of the younger 
ones. 

This roll-call after an absence is 
repeated throughout life ; and, when 
the next long vacation is over, whose 
place at the desk will be vacant?^ 
Through whose names shall the black 
line be passed ? What expectant ju- 
nior shall occupy the position that was 
80 lately ours ? There were plenty 
of empty places now at Old Carter's ; 
and I looked forward with pleasure to 
the end of my time at this ill-man- 
aged school, where I had learnt little^ 
except the stories of most of the 
Waverley Novels from my dear Aus- 
tin Comberwood. 

My attention was now given to 
what I was told I should have to do at 
Holyshade. The two Biffords had 
preceded me by more than a year ; but 
they were far more advanced than I 
when they left. Carter's, however, 
did not profess to prepare for Holy- 
shade especially : so, as it subsequently 
turned out, what I had managed to 
pick up was of very little use to me 
when I came to take my place in one 
of the upper forms of the great pub- 
lic school. 

My father liad made all the neoes^ 



sary arrangements ; and I was to board 
at the Rev. Mr. Keddy's. Thence- 
forth my father considered me a man. 
He gave me a watch, and allowed me, 
as by right, to dine at late dinner 
with him and his friends. 

Now commenced my education in 
earnest. In my father's idea to be a 
Holyshadian was to be privileged. 
It was, to his thinking, who knew as 
little about Holyshade as he did of 
Oxford or Cambridge, a sort of degree 
conferred upon a boy, giving him a 
certain kind of status in society, 
which could be generally described as 
" making a man of him." It was a 
sort of esquireship leading to knight- 
hood. 

The bachelor parties were frequent ; 
but my father spent two nights a 
week regularly at the Cavanders. 
Cavander and he were inseparable; 
but, though I saw more of this gen- 
tleman, I did not dislike him less, nor, 
as- 1 have reason to believe, *did he 
me. 

CHAPTER XVII I. 

I ADOPT A FASHION. — ASSISTING IN 

MAKING A MAN. 8ELF-IMP0B- 

TANCB. — THE VERNEY GIRLS. — 
TO ST. WINIFRId's. — A VISIT OF 
CEREMONY. — MR. SWINGLE AND 
THE CRUMPETS. — THE ACCIDENT 
WARD. — I COME ACROSS SOME 
OLD ACQUAINTANCES IN A STRANGE 
WAY. — I SEE ONE FOR THE LAST 
TIME. 

I NOW began to disdain jackets. I 
knew that many years must elapse 
before my plumage would develop into 
a tail. Being' possessed of liberty 
to roam London at will, and money 
to spend at pleasure, I used often to 
saunter up Oxford Street, and admire 
the garments in a ready-made clothes- 
shop, where I had seen a pea-jacket, 
on which I had set my heart It 



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appeared to me to be a compromiae. 
It was not a tail, nor was it a short 
jacket : so, in the process of making 
a man of myself, I bought this gar- 
ment for seven and sixpence, and walk- 
ed home in triumph with it under 
my arm. I was a trifle nervous of 
meeting any member of my family. 
The next day I waited until my 
fathef had gone into the city, to put 
it on ; and, in order that I might run 
no chance of his seeing me in the 
course of the day, I cunningly in- 
quired of him at what hour he con- 
sidered his return probable. To this 
he answered, that Mr. Gavander was 
going to dine with him at home ear- 
lier than usual ; in fact, at half-past 
five o'clock, as they were going to see 
some new play, to which, if I chose, 
I might accompany them : only, if so, 
I must be back and ready dressed at 
the same time as the dinner. With 
this offer I at once closed, and made 
up my'mind to forestall their arrival 
by half an hour, so as to get out of 
my new jacket, and into my ordinary 
one, before they should come in to 
dress for dinner. My time for return 
I therefore fixed for half-past four. I 
turned up my collars to represent 
stick-ups, and tied my sailor's knot in 
a large bow; and feeling that, some- 
how or other, I was trying to make a 
man of myself, — experiencing at the 
same time a half-conviction that I was 
probably making an ass of myself, 
— I determined to brave the world's 
opinion as far as the top of Oxford 
Street and back : and so — with no 
particular object in view, except* that 
of seeing how I liked, and how other 
people might like, my new clothes — 
I sallied forth. 

I crossed the park, and came out at 
the Bays water end of Oxford Street 

At this moment I saw two young 
ladies most elegantly dressed. 



A Colvin is, as I have before hint- 
ed, a sort of lightning-conductor, 
where the glances of fair women are 
concerned. ''It was," as the song 
says, "ever thus from childhood's 
years." The two young demoiselles 
who had attracted my attention 
turned out to be Miss Carlott a Lucille 
and Julie Lucrezia, who scarcely 
recognized me in my nondescript 
costume. I blushed considerably on 
meeting them, and devoutly wished 
myself back in my own proper dress ; 
that is, at first, as they seemed to 
speak to me with some slight coldness 
and reserve, — as though, perhaps, 
they considered me in the light of 
a boy detective in disguise, for the 
purpose of taking juvenile delin- 
quents. I do not know whether de- 
tectiveg are thus educated from child- 
hood ; but I should say not Yet, if 
the office be an important one to the 
safety of the community, surely a 
training college for detectives migbt 
be capable of valuable development. 
Julie informed me that they were just 
returning from a visit to their aunt, 
my nurse Davis, at the hospital, 
which, if I felt inclined to call, I 
should find not very far off; and there- 
upon they gave me full and particular 
directions. ' They were glad enough 
to be quit of me. At least, Carlotta 
Lucille, who was magnificent, certain- 
ly was, as she did not care to be seen 
walking about with such an absurd 
bundle of clothes as I must have 
seemed. Carlotta was still with Ma- 
dame Glissande, and, ajs a matter of 
business (for madame taught all the 
best people in town), was attired in 
the height of fashion. 

I determined to go and show my- 
self to Nurse Davis, who, I felt sure, 
would be as proud of me as I was of 
myself. Besides, I should be able to 
tell her about my having to go to 



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Holyshade at the end of the holidays. 
So I said goodly to Carlotta and' 
Julie. I should have liked Julie to 
have come with me ; but; as that could 
not be, I strutted ofif alone to St. Wini- 
frid's Central Hospital, which I found 
without much difficulty. 

There were a number of steps up 
to the front-entrance ; and it seemed 
to me like going into a show. I 
remember experiencing^ a feeling 
approaching awe on first visiting 
the Polytechnic Institution, where I 
know I for a long time considered the 
lecturers as representing the highest 
scientific attainments of the English 
nation. I, perhaps, had my doubts as 
to the exact chair in this learned body 
which should be occupied by the pro- 
fessor of dissolving views, whose voice 
sounded awfully from nowhere par- 
ticular in the surrounding gloom. 
But, from the first moment of my wit- 
nessing a startling experiment with a 
glass jar, some hydrogen, and some 
oxygen, out of which (I mean the 
experiment, not the jar) the profes- 
sor issued cool, calm, and triumphant, 
I placed the chepaical lecturer on the 
highest pedestal, and mentally elect- 
ed him to the mastership of the Poly- 
technic. 

I fancy that what brought the Poly- 
technic to my mind at St. Winifrid's 
Hospital was a kind of beadle, in 
a chocolate-colored overcoat, with a 
gold band round his hat, who was on 
duty behind a glass window at the 
entrance. 

" What do you want ? " he asked, 
opening a small pane, and looking out 
suddenly, probably under the impres- 
sion that I was an accident of some 
sort, rashly taking care of myself un- 
til I could obtain surgical aid. 

"Does Mrs. Davis live here?'* I 
inquired mildly. 

** Mrs. Davis ? " he repeated dubi- 



ously, either on account of the name 
being strange to him, or because 
there were so many missuses at St. 
Winifrid's as to make the selection of 
one particular missus a considerable 
effort of memory, or because my pea- 
jacket and stick-up collars did not 
inspire a man in his position with 
much confidence as to my ulterior 
objects in asking for a respectable 
matron on that establishment. What- 
ever might have been the reason of 
his hesitation, he considered for a few* 
seconds, and then asked cautiously, — 

" What do you want her for ? " 

" I want to see her," I replied inno- 
cently, resenting such unwarrantable 
curiosity on his part. 

He touched a bell, and then whis- 
pered into what seemed to me to be a 
thing like an elephant's trunk stick- 
ing out of the wall. , 

The elephant's trunk snorted some- 
thing by way of reply; whereupon 
the beadle turning to me, said, — 

"What name?" 

" My name ? " I asked. 

" Yes," answered the beadle stern- 
ly, firowning as though he had all 
along suspected me of some attempt 
at introducing myself into the hospi- 
tal under an alias. 

"Master Colvin," I replied. 

"Master what?" he asked, stai 
frowning. He was evidently of opin- 
ion, that, in my next answer, I should 
manage to contradict myself, and so 
expose some deeply-laid plan for rob- 
bing the donation-box, which his sa- 
gacity had been in time to prevent. 

"Colvin," I repeated; and I am 
sure he was disappointed. 

The beadle told this as a secret to 
the elephant's trunk ; and, in return, 
the elephant's trunk conveyed the in- 
formation that Mrs. Davis would be 
" with me directly. Would I step in 
and sit down ? " 



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I had scarcely time to avail myself 
of this polite invitation, and to ingra- 
tiate myself with the gradually thaw- 
ing official, hefore Nurse Davis, in a 
gray dress, with the neatest possihle 
cap, wristbands, and collar, entered 
by a side-door, took both my hands, 
and gave me a kiss. 

The kiss — which made my cheeks 
tingle for a second, partly because I 
did not like to be treated as a child 
before the chocolate-colored beadle, 
*who, the moment previous to my 
nurse's appearance, had been on the 
point of handing me the paper in 
order that I might read the political 
questions of .the day; and partly 
because I had been, for some time, 
unaccustomed to this mode of saluta- 
tion — completed the beadle's thawing, 
and warmed him so much, that he 
unbuttoned his coat so as to let the 
human sympathy in his breast have 
freer play; put his hands into his 
trousers' pockets, and allowed his fea- 
tures to relax into an approving 
smile, expressive of his approbation 
of the proceedings so far, generally. 

" He's my boy, Mr. Swingle ; he is,'* 
said nurse, proudly stroking my hair. 
"I've always called Master Cecil my 
boy : haven't I, dear ? " 

I nodded ; and she continued, — just 
to show my importance in the world, 
and her own position with regard to 
the aristocracy, — " how is your good 
father, Sir John? *' 

The beadle raised his eyebrows, and 
became deeply interested. 

" He is very well," I answered. 

*'Not married yet?" she asked. 

"Married I" I exclaimed almost 
indignantly ; though I iJbally did not 
know why. " No, of course not ! " 

" Of course not," she returned. " It 
would not be fair. If you should 
ever have a stepmother as was not 
inclined to be as kind as she ought to 



be, you'll know where to come to, 
won't you ? " ^ 

"Yes, nurse," I answered, under- 
standing Her to mean that I was to 
seek her for consolation. The beadle 
seemed to wish to be comprehended 
in this invitation, but said nothing. 

"Now you will come and see my 
room ; and, if you're not above taking 
tea with yo^r old nurse " — 

I stopped her at once by laying 
hold of her arm. Mr. Swingle ven- 
tured to make a suggestion. 

" If a crumpet would be any assist- 
ance," said Mr. Swingle, " I've a cou- 
ple here, and can send Jim out for a 
cake, Mrs. Davis." 

" If you can spare *em," said Nurse 
Davis, " and it won't be robbing you." 

Mr. Swingle assured her, that in his 
attitude towards muffins, crumpets, 
and such like articles of tea-cake con- 
fectionery, he was a perfect Gallio, 
inasmuch as " he cared for none of 
these things ; " and that therefore he 
was in no way to be credited with the 
merit of a bounty in presenting them 
to Mrs. Davis's tea-table, where they 
would be thoroughly appreciated, and, 
he sincerely trusted, perfectly digested. 
Not that he expressed himself in this 
form. He simply said, — 

"You're welcome, Mrs. Davis. I 
don't hold with such things myself, 
except occasionally, as being a trifle 
puffy. They agrees with some," he 
added. "But what I say is. Whole- 
some is as wholesome does." 

Whereupon we took the crumpets ; 
and Jim, an errand-boy, having an- 
swered the summons. Nurse Davis gave 
him a shilling, for which he was to 
bring back a pound-cake flavored 
with citron, to which nurse remem- 
bered me to have been, in bygone 
days, peculiarly partial. 

" I'll just see to the tea-things, for 
I didn't expect a visitor, and come 



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back, Master Cecil. You won't mind 
staying here with Mr. Swingle, will 
you?" 

" No, I'll stay," I answered ; whereat 
I fancied Swingle quite brightened 
up. Hud I left him to accompany 
nurse, I am convinced that man 
would have become a misanthrope : 
he would have ceased .to believe in 
gratitude, and would have lost all con- 
fidence in the sincerity of youth, and 
the purity of its motive. 

'* Plenty of life here," said Mr. 
Swingle, putting a chair for me, so 
that I could kneel on it, and, placing 
my elbows on the window-ledge, could 
look out on to the busy thoroughfare. 
" Plenty going on all day, — 'busses, 
cabs, carts, carriages, all sorts. Won- 
derful few run over, considerin'." 

" Run over by carts ? " I asked. 

"Yes," he returned, — "by carts, 
or some vehicles. 'Orrid careless most 
on 'em is. Casuals come in circles, 
so to speak. At one time there's a 
run on broken legs, then on arms, 
then heads. It's a head's turn now." 

He stood behind, looking over me, 
and propounding his theory quite 
cheerfully. It was the widest part 
of the street opposite the hospital ; 
and in the middle of the road, like an 
eyot in a river, was a small paved 
piece, in the centre of which was a 
lamp-post surrounded by four ordinary 
posts at the four corners, bearing 
altogether some resemblance to the 
arrangement of skittles, the lamp 
being the king. It was an island of 
refuge for old ladies, a breathing-space 
for the adventurous, a place of obser- 
vation for the cautious, and a sort of 
Roman camp for a policeman. 

Across the road, on the farthest 
side from my window, stood at the 
edge of the curb a flauntingly-dressed 
woman. She had but just arrived ; 
and her extraordinary actions were 



attracting the attention of the by- 
standers. She was evidently ad- 
dressing them, and waving her para- 
sol to the crowd, already increasing 
rapidly. 

Suddenly running towards her 
came a respectably-dressed man, who, 
on approaching, began to remonstrate 
with her, and tried to induce her to 
enter a cab which he had hailed. 
She refused, and, scarcely able to 
walk steadily, made a dart forward 
into the road, right in front of the 
cab, with a view, as it seemed, to gain- 
ing the paved refuge. At that same 
instant a horse, whose reins had been 
dropped by the driver on his jump- 
ing down from his cart, suddenly 
took fright, and dashed towards the 
very spot for which the unfortunate 
woman was already making. A 
shriek of horror arose, audible in our 
room, as the wretched creature, in her 
struggle to free herself from the man 
who had frantically seized her arm in 
order to drag her away, fell sideways 
in a heap, right under the cart, the 
wheels of which passed rapidly over 
her head and legs, as the horse, mad- 
dened by the yelling and shouting, 
galloped headlong towards Oxford 
Street ; and the man, who had in vain 
tried to avert the catastrophe, fell 
forward, unhurt^ on the pavement of 
refrige. 

In 'another minute the insensible 
form of the woman, crushed and man- 
gled, was borne into the accident ward 
of the Winifrid Hospital. A crowd 
hung about the steps, and were dis- 
posed to resent any attempt at ex- 
cluding them from the building, as an 
infringement of their rights as citi- 
zens, and as unfair to those who had 
found her, and had helped to carry 
her in. 

Nurse Davis passed anxiously down 
the plain, unfurnished passage, cany- 



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ing a bottle and glass. I followed ' 
nervously, and entered the casualty 
ward. Two young surgeons were ex- 
amining the wounds ; and I heard the 
dull, heavy sound as of a person groan- 
ing in sleep. 

" No hope ? " inquired a man's voice 
that struck me as familiar. 

"None," was the surgeon's reply. 
" She may live half an hour ; she may 
live half a day. It is improbable that 
consciousness will return. You know 
her?" 

"Yes," the familiar voice replied 
in a hard tone. "I regret to say, 
Yes." After a pause it said, "I should 
like to send a message." 

Nurse Davis indicated the writing- 
table. 

I was standing by it, unable to ob- 
tain more than a glimpse of the dying 
woman, and feeling very sick and 
nervous. Towards this table the man 
with the familiar voice turned quickly. . 
It was Mr. Venn. 

We stared at one another. It all 
at once occurred to me that I had 
seen him with this woman twice be- 
fore. NoWy in encountering him, I 
recognized her. It was she who had 
stopped me at school ; it was she who, 
with Venn, had met Cavander in 
Kensington Gardens. I was not, 
therefore, so surprised as I otherwise 
should have been, at his first ques- 
tion to me, which was, — 

" Do you know where Mr. Cavan- 
der lives ? " 
"Yes." 

He thought for a second ; then he 
said, "Is he likely to be at your 
father's?" ' 

All that I had intended as to my 
return home flashed across me. 

"Yea," I answered: "he will be 
there to dinner at five. He dresses 
there." 

*' They may be back before that," 



observed Mr. Venn, hastily writing a 
few lines, and enclosing them in an 
envelope. "Take this at once, and 
return." 

Mr. Swingle saw me into a cab, and 
carefully gave the necessary instruc- 
tions. 

Neither my father nor Mr. Cavan- 
der had as yet arrived. They were 
expected every minute. In the midst 
of all this hurry and excitement, I re- 
membered my jacket, and changed it 
for my ordinary attire. Understand- 
ing Ihat Mr. Venn expected me to 
return, I left the note on the hall 
table, and was driven back in the cab 
to the hospital. 

On reaching it, I found my father's 
brougham already at the door ; and in 
the Casualty room stood my father, 
with Mr. Venn and Mr. Cavander, 
besides the surgeon and Nurse Davis, 
whose arm waa supporting the heavi- 
ly breathing, helpless figure on the 
mattress. 

Once — it was the only time I could 
look at her — I saw her head roll slowly 
from side to side as if in mute agony ; 
I saw her glassy eyes open on to the 
hopelessness of life for the last time. 
Then from her heaving breast came 
forth a deep sigh, heavily laden with 
the weariness of sin and misery, — a 
sigh, pray God I of the poor soul's con- 
trition, — a sigh of eternal gratitude 
from the penitent, laid at last to 
rest in the arms of divine compas- 
sion. 

Dead. 

I heard Mr. Cavander saying, that^ 
having known the poor woman in 
better circumstances, he would be 
answerable for any expenses that might 
be incurred. This was to Mr. Venn. 
My father sat Apart for a while, pale 
and motionless, with his eyes fixed on 
the covered corpse. He did not seem 
to notice my presence. Nurse Davis 



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placed a glass of wine before him; 
bat he only inclined his head slight- 

^y- . . ■ 

An official book was in Mr. Swin- 
gle's room on a desk, in which the 
name of the deceased, and whatever 
particulars were requisite, had to be 
entered. The man whose duty it 
was to make such entries put one of 
these necessary interrogatories to Mr. 
Venn, who appeared lost in thought. 
Ur. Cavander touched his elbow to 
recall him to himself Mr. Venn, as 
if he had not understood the inquiry 
as addressed to him, looked up ; and 
the question was repeated. 

He answered, with a strange sort 
of nervous hesitation, — 

"I beg your pardon. The event 
has shocked me considerably. She 
was a connection of mine by marriage. 
I had not seen her for years. She 
was latterly occupying apartments 
in the same house with myself Here 
he gave his address. 

"Her name?'' 

" Her name ? " repeated Mr. Venn, 
as if putting the question to him- 
.self. 

The window of the glass screen of 
the porter's room was open ; and be- 
fore it my father paused for a second, 
as Mr. Swingle opened one of the 
front folding-doors leading on to the 
steps. 

The man's pen hovered above the 
page as he looked up, over his shoul- 
der, at Mr. Venn, awaiting his an- 
swer. 

My father turned his head quickly 
towards Mr. Venn. Theijc eyes met, 
and were withdrawn instantly. Mr. 
Swingle pulled open the door ; and, as 
my father was passing out, Mr. Venn, 
in a firmer tone than he had hitherto 
used, answered^ — 

"Her name was Sarah Wingrove." 



CHAPTEB XIX. 

HOLTSHADS AND THB HOLTSHA« 
BIANS. 

Thb incident mentioned in the pre- 
vious chapter closes, as it were, the 
first book of this present chronicle of 
the Colvin Family. To retrace my 
pathway through My Time, and to 
note carefully what I have done with 
it, has been a^ task forced upon me 
by circumstances with which, in due 
course, my readers will be made ac- 
quainted. 

We are now arrived at the second 
part of my narrative," which commen- 
ces at Holyshade College, the most 
celebrated of our public schools. 

To be a Holyshadian is to be im- 
pressed with the guinea stamp of cur- 
rency for life. Enrolment among the 
glorious band of Holyshadian youth 
has in it, not to speak it irreverently, 
something resembling what is termed 
" the character " of Orders. 

Once a Holyshadian, always a Holy- 
shadian. Boy and man, the Holysha- 
dian is supposed to bear the indelible 
mark of the grace conferred. 

For to be a Holyshadian does con- 
fer some special grace ; the grace in 
question, as far as I am able to ascer- 
tain any thing certain on this matter, 
being that of an easy, gentlemanly 
deportment. This grace, then, if my 
presumption is correct, is of the exte- 
rior, visible to the world. It remains, 
as a rule, even to the most interiorly 
graceless Holyshadians. The disre- 
putable Holyshadian is, in comparison 
with other disreputables, as Milton's 
Lucifer, Son of the Morning Star, to 
the othec fallen angels. A swindler 
who has had the advantage of a 
Holyshadian education has in his favor 
far greater chances than all other 



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swindlers. A Kontmoienci may cheat 
you out of five pounds where a Mug- 
gins couldn't do you out of a brass 
farthing. 

The pride of Holyshade, as a public 
school, is to produce gentlemen, — 
scholars if you will, Christians if you 
can; but, in any case, gentlemen. 
Yet the veritable aboriginal Holysha- 
dian is, ex officio^ a scholar. He is on 
the foundation, which means that his 
education is bestowed on him by way 
of charity. And, in order that the 
aboriginal may never forget this, he is 
clothed differently from those who are 
not on the foundation ; wearing a 
coarse sort of college-gown winter and 
summer, and being fed and boarded 
according to certain ancient rules. 
These birds of like plumage flock 
together, and do not consort with the 
noble strutting peacocks, called Oppi- 
dans, save occasionally, and then on 
sufferance. 

These veritable Holyshadians have 
for their nest the grand old rookery 
called the College. ^ The Oppidans 
have built without the precincts of its 
walls, but within the bounds of its do- 
main. The numberof the Collegers is 
limited. The Oppidans are to them as 
seven to one. It seems as though the 
Collegers, like the Indians of South 
America, had gradually yielded to the 
advance of the white-skins ; the white- 
skins representing the aristocracy. 

A barbarous and uncivilized set 
were at one time, and that not so very 
long ago, the aboriginal '^ Tugs," as 
these poor Collegers were called, in 
allusion to the sheep whereon they were 
traditionally fed, and which they wexe 
supposed, being half famished, rather 
to " tug " at and tear, like hounds, 
worrying, than to eat soberly and qui- 
etly by the aid of those two decorous 
weapons of well-fed civilization, the 
knife and fork. The epicure who 



inyented the knife Mid fork must haire 
been well able to wait for his dinner. 

Yet, -theoretically, this Tug tribe 
holds the poet of honor. Their chief 
is the captain of Holyshade, the chief 
of the Oppidans having but a brevet 
rank; being, like a volunteer, only 
captain by courtesy. 

The Collegers are, by right, royal 
scholars, just as the actors at Druiy 
Lane are her or his Majesty's ser- 
vants. In consequence there wece 
privileges. One of the inestimable 
privileges enjoyed by the aforesaid 
comedians was, I have been informed, 
the right to a dinner at the royal 
palace daily ; and Messrs. Clown and 
Pantaloon, if only bond fide members 
of the Drury Lane Company, would 
be only in the due exercise of their 
prerogative, were they to walk down 
to St. James's Palace, call for the chief 
butler, and order chops for two to be 
ready hot and hot with mashed 'taters 
and bottled stout at half-past four in 
the afternoon, so that they might be 
in good order for performing in the 
evening's pantomime. Such privileges 
as these have fallen into desuetude. 
ActoiB are no longer the monarch's 
trenchermen : they have suffered loss 
with many another institution. Axid 
Holyshade in its old age, like the 
faded mistress, once queen by a royal 
caprice, can boast only of favors 
which in time past she was wont so 
regally to confer. There still are some 
privileges, but of late years they 
have been sadly but tenderly shorn of 
their glory; and the gates of even 
their particular paradise, St Henry's 
College, Cambridge, — once for the en- 
trance of only the Holyshadian electa 
— are now thrown open to all the worldL 
True, there are yet some reservations 
for poor Holyshadians, as there are 
for a few nobly connected, at the aris- 
tocratic college of All Soub, which^ by 



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recent enactment, due to a liberal 

policj; has well-nigh passed into the 

hands of All Bodies. 
Of all such matters of schools, of 

colleges of All Saints, and universities 
of All Sinners, my father knew noth- 
ing. All he had to do was to send 
ffie to some place, or places, where 
they would *' make a man of me ; ^' 
which, in his view, was, as I have said, 
a sort of degree. 

Had he mixed with his equals in 
rank, who would have been ready 
enough to welcome him, I should pro- 
bably hare benefited by his enlarged 
experience. But he preferred his own 
pleasure in his own way, his own so- 
ciable gatherings of city friends, and 
his own circle of family relationship. 
Left to himself Sir John Colvin of 
an old title might have ^played an 
important part in society; but he 
was no more his own master than is 
the vessel obeying the turn of the 
hehn. Whose object it was to sail 
him ronnd and round this wretched 
pond, letting him think that he was 
making progress on the sea of life, 
will be gradually evident, as it is to 
me now, in the course of this history. 
My &ther worked for my future, 
and for the best, as he viewed that 
foture. He had been brought up in 
a m(mey>making school, to consider a 
good percentage the one thing neces- 
Sftiy. From this bondage he had 
emancipated himself so far 'as to 
have started me with very diflferent* 
ideas. From one extreme, he went 
to the other. Business had been 
every thing to him : it was to be noth- 
iiig to me. Yet, in his inexperience 
of all walks of life which were not 
within the city labyrinth, he imar 
gined his son taking the highest posi- 
tion to which a commoner could rise, 
by such mere sharpness and quick- 
lieas as might serve for answering a 
10 



conundrum, or for uttering the flip- 
pant sort of jest, that, at that time, 
passed for true wit among ihQjiabituii 
of Capel Court Laborious study, or 
application to one particular line, 
never entered into his vague scheme 
for my preferment. He knew noth-» 
ing of the existence of scholarships, 
fellowships, the attainment of high 
degrees, and other similar incentives 
to the study of the various branches 
of learning ; and, consequently, he was 
unable to question with my instruc- 
tors, or to go over the ground with 
myself. He showed himself not in 
the least interested in my schooling ; 
and so I came to look upon schooltime 
only as a pleasant enough interval 
between the vacations ; my one aim 
and object being to devote these inter- 
vals to the cultivation of as much en- 
joyment as my supply of pocket- 
money would permit. 

The cuckoo places its egg in an- 
other bird's nest ; being ignorant of 
the art of hatching. By a cuckoo- 
like instinct, my father placed me in 
nest after nest belonging to other 
birds, in the hope, perhaps, that I 
should turn out an eagle. Alas! 
hatched and fledged, he found me 
still of his own brood. 

My new nest was not in the col- 
lege rookery at Holyshade, but among 
the flue Oppidan birds. 

Not having been specially trained 
for Holyshade, as I have before said, 
I had to begin at the beginning. 
The beginning was the Fourth Form 
Lower Remove. 

After what I may call my Com- 
berwood Christmas Holidays, I went 
to Holyshade. I did not anticipate 
meeting any friends there, except the 
Biffords, who had been with me at 
Old Carter's. I was an utter stran- 
ger to the boys of the place, and 
found myself isolated. 



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It was a raw, dull day, and wretch- 
edly cold, when my father took me to 
Holysha^ie, and introduced me to my 
tutor, in whose house I was to board. 

The Rev. Matthias Keddy was a 
lanky, disjointed-looking person, with 
a clerical white neckerchief so unti- 
dily twisted as to give its wearer the 
appearance of having been suddenly 
cut down in a stupid attempt at hang- 
ing himself, — an idea which his way 
of holding his head very much on 
one side, and his nervous, confused 
manner generally, tended strongly to 
confirm. On seeing me for the first 
time, he grinned, always with his 
head askew, as if focussing me in a 
favorable angle, laughed, rubbed his 
right hand through his toused-looking 
hair, by way of preparation, before 
oflFering it for my acceptance. 

*' Well," he said squeakily, " how«- 
de-do ? Hope we shall be good 
friends." 

I hoped so too ; but neither of us 
seemed particularly sanguine as to 
the future. His voice bore the sort 
of family resemblance to that of 
Punch that might be expected to 
come from Punch's nephew on the 
Judy side. 

My father surveyed us both benign- 
ly. He had nothing to say as to clas- 
sics or mathematics, as to school- 
hours, training, or, in short, as to any 
subject connected with my educa- 
tional course. He had brought me 
down there himself, and, I imagine, 
felt himself somehow out of place, 
beginning, perhaps, to wish he had 
confided me to a clerk, a butler, or an 
uncle, or to any one who would have 
relieved him of this responsibility. 
After politely declining Mr. Keddy's 
proffered hospitality of sherry aiid 
biscuits, my father was about to take 
leave of me, when Mr. Keddy, who 
had been staring at the tip of his 



own boot, as he rested his foot on the 
fender, suddenly squeaked out, — 

" Would you like to see your boy's 
room. Sir John ? " 

** Thank you I " said my father, with 
an air of great satisfaction. 

My poor father I He had been trou- 
bled about many things just at this 
time, whereof I was then, of course, 
profoundly ignorant ; and he was too 
glad to be quit of me for a time to be 
at all critical as to the lodging pro- 
vided for me. I think, too, he was as 
much puzzled by this first view of 
Holyshade as I was, and, on the 
whole, was confusedly impressed by 
the atmosphere of the place.. 

An elderly maid-servant conducted 
us to a passage on the first floor. On 
both sides were ranged the boys* 
rooms, looking like a corridor in a 
miniature model prison. 

The tlurd apartment, on the left, 
was to be mine. 

It was neatly furnished with a small 
table, a turn-up bedstead, a cabinet, 
containing, in the upper part, two or 
three bookshelves, in the middle an 
escritoire, while its lower part was 
divided into three drawers. In a cor- 
ner stood a common washstand. The 
room looked, with its bright fire 
lighted in joyful celebration of my 
arrival, snug and cheerful enough ; 
and I was so highly delighted and 
taken with the notion of having a 
room at school all to myself, that I 
was really only half sorry when I 
saw my father drive off in his fly in 
order to catch the express for town. 
He was going to spend the evening 
with the Cavanders. 

I felt a choking in my throat, and 
a difSculty in bidding him farewell, 
which I was fearful of his noticing, 
lest he should set down this ebulli- 
tion of emotion to cowardice, and 
should depart hopeless of my oyer 



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being made a man of, and despairing 
even of the efficacy of Holyshadian 
treatmeni Uncle Van has since told 
me that he talked of me and of Ho- 
lyshade, for several days after, when- 
ever an opportunity occurred ; from 
which I have inferred that the chok- 
ing sensation at the moment of bid- 
ding adieu was not solely confined to 
my throat. My father loved mo in 
his own peculiar way; and as all the 
Colvins will insist in doing every 
thing in their own peculiar way, so 
neither of us, at this time at all 
events, was any exception to the rule. 
By his example I was brought up to 
understand that any show of affection 
was childish, and had better be re- 
strained in its very commencement. 
Such a check is as dangerous to 
some constitutions as is a sharp frost 
in May to the promising fruit- 
trees. 

Only some of the lower boys had 
returned. This information I re- 
ceived from my tutor's butler, a jolly, 
round and red-faced man, with a 
square-looking nose, named Berridge, 
who always seemed to me to smell 
more or less of oil, and was perpetu- 
ally in his shirt-sleeves cleaning 
glasses. After him came George, a 
livery-servant, a good-natured lout, 
who looked as though he had been 
torn from the plough, and shoved into 
a swallow-tailed, dirty-yellow livery- 
coat, with flat metal buttons, ii^ which 
costume he bore a striking resem- 
blance to a very big bird. 

These two carried my boXes up 
stairs, and assisted to cheer me not 
a little. I took possession of my cup- 
hoard-like apartment with a new feel- 
ing of proprietorship. It was all 
mine, every inch of it. Here I could 
do what I liked, — just exactly what I 
liked. As a commencement, I made 
myself free of the place by the sim- 



ple but expressive ceremony of pok- 
ing the fire. The fiery coals an- 
swered to the poker, like a fiery steed 
to the spur. The fireplace and I 
warmed to one another ; and Mr. Ber- 
ridge's face reflected the glow, and 
beamed on me encouragingly. 

** You'll want, " said Mr. Berridge 
thoughtfully, while I was laying out 
my wardrobe, " some candles and a 
lamp for your room." 

Of course, I should. I had not 
brought them. I had overlooked this, 
as well as various other necessary 
articles of furniture. 

"That's no matter," said Mr. Ber- 
ridge kindly: "you can get 'em all 
here easy enough. You'd better have 
'em of me. All the young gentle- 
men does." 

Certainly any thing that every 
other Holyshadian did must, I con- 
cluded, be right. 

" A candle-lamp is what you want," 
continued Mr. Berridge decisively, 
" with a nice glass shade." 

I thanked him for his consideration. 
I had seen a candle-lamp in Old Car- 
ter's study. 

"You won't want it just yet," said 
Berridge. " I'll bring it you in a four's 
time about." 

That would do. In fact, at that 
moment any thing that would have 
suited Berridge, even a cut-glass 
chandelier, would have suited me. 

" I'll put a candle in for you," he 
said ; " and you'd better have a packet 
o' Palmers besides." 

By all means. This was my first 
venture in lamps and candles. I felt 
as if I were about to give a party. 

" Then that's all at present," said 
Berridge, looking •round cheerftilly. 
"You don't want nothing else, I 
think, just now. Sarah, that's the 
maid, will bring you your kettle and 
tea-things, — roll and butter. When 



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the other young geDtlemen oome 
back, you'll mess with some one." 

He gave one look at my small 
hamper, wherein our cook at home 
liad stowed away a tongue, a cake, 
and a pot of strawberry-jam. 

There was such pleasure in antici- 
pation of a meal all by myself in my 
own room, — an idea I could not suffi- 
ciently enjoy, — that, at first, I really 
had no wish to go out of doors. 

Mr. Berridge returned in about 
half an hour, bringing with him the 
lamp, candles, and a box of matches. 
It was a very bright affair, of slightly 
gingerbready material, Pm afraid, 
with a ground-glass shade. 

To one unaccustomed to its use, it 
was comparatively dangerous ; as if, 
in attempting to put a candle in, you 
didn't screw the top on, which strug- 
gled and resisted, on its own account, 
with quite remarkable power, the 
candle flew out as if discharged from 
a catapult, and either broke some- 
thing, or smashed itself against the 
wall or ceiling, greasing the carpet 
in its fall. It was, therefore, some 
time before I mastered this fire-work. 
It was a deceptive thing too, as the 
candle always appeared the same 
length ; and, when you were in the 
middle of a most exciting story, there 
was a sudden click, a sharp, vicious 
sputter, and the next instant you 
were in darkness. 

However, as a commencement to- 
wards housekeeping, it served its pur- 
pose ; or, rather, it served my tutor's 
excellent butler's — Mr. Berridge's — 
purpose, who being a chandler by 
trade, and having a lamp-and-candle 
shop " down town," was naturally dis- 
interested in recommending this ad- 
mirable invention to my notice. I 
paid Mr. Berridge five shillings and 
threepence for it, and he condescend- 
ingly gave me a receipt 



Berridge's only chance of profit 
was, I subsequently found, with the 
new boys. When the old ones re- 
turned, and we became acquainted, 
one of the first questions was, " Got 
one of that old humbug Berridge's 
lamps?" 

Berridge must have taken a secret 
and peculiar pleasure in these trans- 
actions, as, in spite of their having 
done considerable harm to any future 
dealings, he never omitted a chance 
of passing off one of these lamps on 
a new boy, apparently in preference 
to doing a steady and regular business 
with us throughout the year. The 
masters and town's people, however, 
dealt with him largely, I believe ; and 
this, therefore, was only, so to speak, 
a little " fancy retail trade." 

I suppose it was my loneliness at 
first at Holyshade — and I was the 
more solitary on account of no longer 
having such a companion as Austin 
Comberwood had been to me — that 
developed in me a taste for diary- 
keeping. I was then in my four- 
teenth year ; and, until I had friends 
to talk to among the Holyshadians, 
my great amusement was to keep 
accounts of time, doings, and expendi- 
tures ; to write to Austin ; occasion- 
ally, too, receiving and answering a 
letter from Miss Alice ; and making 
up for Austin's absence by applying 
myself to the study .of the best novels 
within my reach. 

I soon got accustomed to all the 
miseries of the Lower Fourth Form, 
— the candle-light dressing ; the raw 
mornings; the shivering little wretches 
in the old oak-panelled schoolroom, 
dimly lighted by guttering tallow 
candles stuck in iron sockets; the 
master as irritable as he was drowsy ; 
in short, the whole sickly farce of 
half an hour's duration, at the end of 
which the great clock struck its wel- 



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come note, and we tumoltuously rash- 
ed forth to throng the pastrjcooka' 
shops for coffee, hot buttered buns, 
hot rolls, or rusks and butter. 

I have no doubt now, but that the 
coffee was gritty, thick, and, with the 
unwholesome, greasy buns, not worth 
the matutinal outlay of fourpence. 
But, of all refreshments whereof I 
have partaken at all times and in all 
places, I do not remember — with' the 
sbgle exception of the hot soup, and 
the demi-paulet^ti, at Calais, after 
thesea-Toyage — any thing so accepta- 
ble, or which so thoroughly served its 
costomer's purpose, as those same 
buna and coffee at Bob's, Poole's, or 
Stepper's, in the old Holyshade Low- 
er Fourth days. 

When, afterwards, I bad attained a 
higher form, we took our coffee later, 
and patronized, chiefly. Stepper's, 
which was frequented by the fastest 
and biggest Holyshadians, on account 
of such' luxuries as hot sausages, 
grilled chicken, and ham and eggs,' 
being served up in the back-parlor 
by the fair hands of the two sisters, 
Louey and Dolly Stepper ; the latter 
being what we used to consider a 
'Moosid fine girl," and a great attrac- 
tion to the more adventurous among , 
those who wore the manly tail, and 
ihe single white tie. 

Apropos of costume, stick-up collars 
were never worn. I remember one 
innovator who came out with them. 
He braved public opinion for a day; 
attempted to lead the fashion f but, 
finding tradition and custom too much 
for him, he gave in, and followed it 
with the rest • 

Our dress was black jacket and 
black tie in a sailor's knot for small 
hoys, and black coat and white tie, 
without collars, for the big ones. All 
wore hats. A Holyshadian Fourth 
Form boy's hat would have made 



Christy rejoice, the necessity for a 
new hat would have been so evident 
to that eminent tradesman. It was 
to my hat I owed my sudden leap 
from the status of a nobody into that 
of a popular celebrity. How this 
chanced, I will forthwith proceed to 
relate. 



CHAPTER XX. 

SHOWING HOW SOME HAVE GREAT- 
NESS THRUST UPON THEM. — THE 
EPISODE OP MY HAT. 

. Holyshadian initiation begins 
with hat smashing. 

When I appeared in the cloisters 
for the first time, well-nigh friendless 
among all the boys (for as yet I had 
only made a few acquaintances at my 
tutor's), waiting the egress of the 
masters from their solemn conclave in 
chambers, I was surrounded by some 
not much bigger than myself. They 
gradually swarmed. Never before 
had I seen so many boys all" at once, 
and of so many sizes too. Such a 
humming and buzzing about me, as 
though I had been a drone trespass- 
ing at tbe entrance of a hive ! They 
canie upon me one by one, two by 
two, threes, fours, — as birds do from 
all quarters to a large crumb, — and 
then began pecking. 

"What's your name?" asked a 
boy. 

" Colvin," I answered peaceably. 

" Calvin I '* shouted a bigger idiot, 
wilfully mistaking my pronunciation. 

" Halloo ! " cried a third. « Here's 
Luther I" 

At this witticism there was a burst 
of laughter, in which I feebly at- 
tempted to join, just to show I was 
equal to taking a joke, even at my 
own expense. 

" Whafs your name?" inquired 



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My TimCy and What I've Done with B. 



another earnestly, as if really asking 
for iij formation. 

"Colvin." 

"Then take that, Colvin," he re- 
turned illogically, smashing my hat 
over my eyes. 

" How are you, Colvin ? " shouted 
twenty different voices at once ; and, 
while struggling to set my hat 
straight, I dropped my book, and was 
hustled from one to another, being 
passed on with a kick, a hit, a pinch, 
or a cuff, as occurred 'to the particular 
fancy and humor of the boy to whose 
lot I happened, for the moment, to 
fall. 

" Where's your hat. Curly ? " 

I did not know. Scarcely had I 
placed it on my head, and begun to 
take breath, than, at a blow from some 
skilful hand, it disappeared into the 
school-yard. 

" Bully, bully I " was then the cry. 

I perfectly agreed with the senti- 
ment. I considered that I had been 
grossly bullied ; but I could not under- 
stand why those who were shouting 
so loudly " Bully ! " should be tlie very 
ones to run viciously at my unfortu- 
nate hat, and treat it like a football. 

In another second I saw it skyed 
up into the air, when — its line of de- 
scent being suddenly inclined at an 
acute angle by a playful breeze, which 
could not any longer keep out of the 
sport where a hat was concerned — it 
comfortably fell, and settled itself, in 
rakish fashion, over the crown which 
adorned the head of the Royal Found- 
er's statue, that stands, with a ball 
and sceptre (it had better have been 
a bat) in its hands, on a pedestal in 
the centre of the college quadrangle. 

This incident was greeted with such 
an uproarious shout as brought the 
masters out of chambers sooner than 
had been expected. Aware of this 
result, a malicious boy in the crowd, 



pretending great sympathy for my 
e?:posed situation, offered to give me, 
a back over the railings which sur- 
rounded the figure. This I accepted, 
and had scarcely got myself safely 
landed inside the barrier, when a fresh 
sort of hubbub arose ; and I saw the 
boys shuffling off in gangs towards 
different doors in the cloisters, while 
most of the masters, all in academical 
costume, — an entire novelty to me, — 
were standing in a corner, apparently 
puzzled to account for the recent ex- 
traordinary disturbance, which had 
not yet completely subsided. 

One of these was an old gentleman, 
something over the middle height, 
with white hair brushed away behind 
the ears, and bulging out at the back 
from under his college-cap. His face 
was of a somewhat monkeyish type, 
for his forehead receded sharply, and 
his upper jaw was heavy and protrud- 
ing \ his features being as hardly cut 
as those of the quaint little figures 
carved out of wood by a Swiss peas- 
ant He used golden-rimmed eye- 
glasses suspended round his neck by 
a broad black ribbon. He wore a 
frill which feathered out in front, sug- 
gesting the idea of his shirt having 
come home hot from the wash, and 
boiled over. His collar and cuflfe were 
of velvet. He invariably stood and 
walked, leaning to one side, out of the 
perpendicular, as if ho had been mod- 
elled on the plan of the Tower of Pisa. 

This was Dr. Courtley, head mas- 
ter of.Holyshade. 

"Bleth my thoul!" lisped Dr. 
Courtley, holding up his glasses, and 
almost closing his eyes in his efforts 
to see distinctly. " Bleth my thoul ! 
Whaththat?" 

He pronounced his " a " very long 
and very broadly, giving it the sound 
it has in " hay." 

"A boy, I think," said a squat^ 



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•leek master^ with a mouth like a slit 
in an orange. I subsequently learnt 
* that this was Mr. Quilter, the most 
severe of all the tutors, the develop- 
ment of whose smile varied in propor- 
tion to the magnitude of the task 
which he might be setting as a pun- 
ishment He was a rigid disciplina- 
rian, bat strictly just, and never 
accused of favoritism. 

^ It is," chirped a third, — a dapper 
little man, in such tightly-strapped 
trousers that walking seemed almost 
impossible. When he had uttered his 
opinion, he sniffed, put his head on one 
side like a feloniously inclined mag- 
pie; and having smiled at his neigh- 
W, and been smiled upon in return, 
he appeared satisfied. His name, I 
found out in time, was Mr. Perk. He 
was familiarly known among the boys 
as Johnny Perk. 

A stout, ruddy-faced, clean-shaven 
master, with a very low vest, and a 
college-cap right at the back of his 
head, — purposely put there on account 
of his great display of forehead, — 
stepped from the group, and shouted 
hruskly, — 

"Here, hi! you sir! Come here, 
sir!" 

"Please sir, I can't, sir," I replied 
from my prison. 

I was very unhappy. 

" Can't ! " exclaimed the brusk mas- 
ter. " You got in there. Eh ? " 

" Please, sir, I came in for my hat." 

" Come out with your hat, then," 
retorted the master impatiently. 

" I can't get it, sir," I urged plain- 
ti?ely.\ *' Please, sir, the statue's got 
it ou his head." 

All eyes were now turned upwards. 
In another second they were all grin- 
ning. 

« Bleth my thoul ! " said Dr. Court- 
ley, " I knew the proper place for a 
hat wath over a crown; but — he, 



he, he ! — hith Maathethty in a low- 
er-boy'th hat, — an inthtanth of thvh 
tegminefdgi, eh ? " He looked round 
at his companions, as, in uttering the 
quotation, he made the penultimate 
syllable short, and the " g " hard, for 
the sake of an academic pun. His 
assistants were, of course, immensely 
tickled. Three or four groups of boys, 
still hanging about their schoolroom- 
doors, waiting the arrival of their re- 
spective masters, passed round the 
joke about " faggy " and fagi ; and 
Dr. Courtley was gratified by youthful 
appreciation. ^ 

In the mean time, the doctor's ser- 
vant, Phidler, of gouty tendencies, and 
a scorbutic countenance, was shuffling 
toward me with a ladder. 

" You get up ! " he said ' gruffly, 
when he had fixed it firmly resting 
on the railings, and reaching up to 
King Henry's head. 

I obeyed, and fetched down my 
hat. I heard a slight cheer, which, 
as in a court of justice, was immedi- 
ately repressed. 

" Come here, sir ! " called out the 
portly master with the intelligent fore- 
head. As I was approaching, I heard 
him saying to his dapper compan- 
ion, "Like Pat Jennings, 'regained 
the felt, and felt what he regained : ' " 
whereat the Mr. Perk smiled, and 
moved off", being followed into a dis- 
tant room by a troop of boys. 

I had some idea that I should be 
expelled, or at least flogged there and 
then. 

" What part of the thchool are you 
in ? " asked Dr. Courtley. 

" Lower Fourth, sir." 

" Take off your hat," he said ; for 
in my nervousness, and forgetful of 
the presence in which I stood, I had 
quietly replaced it on my head. 

" Who threw your hat there ? " he 
went on. 



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"I don't know, sir/' I answered, 
adding, by way of satisfoctory expla- 
nation, ** I've only just come here this 
half, sir." 

" What'th your name ? " 

"Colvin, sir," I answered, almost 
expecting him to make a jest of it, 
and perhaps some further rough treat- 
ment from the three masters who were 
still with their superior. To them he 
turned, saying in a tone of genuine 
annoyance, — 

" It'tii iniquitouth, — really motht 
iniquitouth ! It'th an old barbarouth 
cuthtdm I thould like to thee abol- 
ithed. You will, if you pleathe, ekth- 
preth my opinion thtrongly, — motht 
thtrongly — on what I conthider to 
be thith motht un gentlemanly con- 
duct, — '- motht ungentlemanly ! And 
I thall ekthpect whoever had a hand 
in thith to give themthelvth up, and 
come to me in Upper Thchool before 
twelve o'clock." 

The masters bowed, and walked 
away to their several departments. 
Dr. Courtley then beckoned to a big 
boy, who, with a slip of paper in his 
hand, was going from one door to 
another. 

" Prsepothtor ! " 

" Yes, sir," answered the boy so ad- 
dressed, advancing hat in hand. 

" Thow thith boy, Mathter Colvin, 
where the Lower Divithion Fourth 
Form ith athembled, and then go 
round to all the divithions, and thay 
that I ekthpect every boy who wath 
contherned in thith motht ungentle- 
manly and motht unjuthtifiable pro- 
theeding, to come to me in Upper 
Thchool by twelve o'clock." 

« Yes, sir." 

" You can go," said Dr. Courtley, 
dismissing me. And away I went at 
the heels of the pnepostor, along the 
cloister, through a dark archway, and 
up a broad flight of stairs. 



" Do you know who knocked your 
tile over the rails ? " asked the boy, 
stopping when we were out of Ehr. 
Courtley's sight and hearing. 

«No." 

" What's your name ? " 

" Colvin." I began to wish I could 
vary the answer. 

" Where do you board ? " 

^'Keddy's." 

« Oh, Punch's ! Old Keddy's called 
Punch," he explained. 

"Oh!" I said, pleased to find that 
such liberties could be taken with a 
master's name. 

" My name's Pinter," he continued, 
— " Pinter major. I'm in Upper Re- 
move. My minor's just come. In 
your form." 

" Your minor ? " I repeated hum- 
bly; for I hadn't an idea what he 
meant, and really thought it was some 
allusion to the mining-districts, or, 
perhaps, to some young lady, whose 
name, being Wilhelmina, had been 
abbreviated to Mina ; of which I re- 
membered an instance in the case of 
the sister of one of Old Carter's boys. 
It puzzled me, however, to think how 
Miss Mina Pinter, if there were such 
a person, could be in my form at Holy- 
shade. I was too frightened to ask 
him any questions. 

" Yes," he replied, not appreciating 
my difficulty. "You'll be next to 
him, most likely." " Him " meant 
his minor, and certainly of the mascu- 
line gender. 

He now opened a large door, and 
removed his hat. I followed his ex- 
ample. An indistinct hum of voices 
fell on my ear, with a strong one oc- 
casionally predominating. We were 
in Upper School, in the first division 
of which, cut off from the next section 
by heavy red curtains, sat the Lower 
Fourth Form boys, engaged in con- 
struing to a tall master. 



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The pnepogtor pointed out a seat 
to me; bat, before I took my place^ the 
master asked, — 

"What's your name? '^ 

" Colvin, Wit" said I, very hot and 
uicomfortable. Whereat there was a 
titter. 

Then the Pinter major (Pinter mi- 
nor was next me, and was his younger 
brother: I soon discovered that by 
boldly asking him his name) delivered 
Dr. Courtley's message, which was 
frankly announced by the master to 
the boys. 

At this there was no titter. On the 
contrary. Only a quarter of an hour 
more school-time remained (the eleven 
o'clock school commenced at ten min- 
utes past, and lasted till a quarter to 
twelve, and sometimes till twelve); and 
nearly ten minutes of this was occu- 
pied by an official inquiry into what 
might now be termed, " Colvin's 
case." 

So many had had a hand in, or a 
foot at, my hat, that, on Holyshadian 
principles of honor, every one feeling 
hunself affected by the charge offered 
himself on this occasion. 

This happened in all the Upper 
School forms, from the Middle Division 
Fifth downwards, until the story of 
my hat began to assume the form of 
the familiar alphabet which recounts 
the history of " A was an apple-pie." 
B had bumped at it, C had cut it, D 
had danced on it, E had egged others 
on, H had helped them, I had injured 
it, J had jumped on it, K had kicked 
it; and so on. 

Thus by twelve o'clock, at least 
sixty or seventy boys were waiting, 
with me, to hear what the head mas- 
ter had to say to them. 

They were summoned to the far- 
thest part of the schoolroom, where Dr. 
Courtley, standing in a sort of reading- 
desk, received them. 



He was very strong on the " bar- 
barity and brutality of thith protheed- 
ing, and athtonithed that any Englith 
geptlemen could have been guilty of 
thutth a blaggaird, — yeth, he would 
thay thutth a blaggaird acthun. He 
withed it to be clearly underthtood 
that Mathter Colvin had named no- 
body," — no great merit on my part, 
by the way, as I was unacquainted 
with a single name, except Pinter's 
and the Biffords', whom I had not yet 
seen, — " and therefore," continued 
Dr. Courtley, -with severe emphasis 
and with considerable dignity, " I 
trutht there will be no mean or bathe 
attempt at retaliathun ; but I intend 
to mark my thenthe of thith ungentle- 
manly conduct by an impothithun. 
You will write out and tranthlate " — 

What it was to be I lost, as Pinter 
major, who was attending officially, as 
the prffipostor, charged with the deliv- 
ery of the doctor's message, whispered 
to me that I should at once ask Old 
Smugg (good Heavens, even Dr. 
Courtley had a nickname ! ) to remit 
the punishment. He urged me so 
strenuously, that, plucking up a pro- 
digious amount of courage, I stepped 
forward, and addressed the head mas- 
ter in a husky and tremulous voice. 

" If you please, sir " — 

"Hey! What'th that?" said Dr. 
Courtley, putting up his glasses in 
utter astonishment. He could not 
at first ascertain exactly whence the 
voice proceeded. Having satisfied 
himself on this point, and focussed 
me by squinting down his nose, he 
asked, as if impatient at the interrup- 
tion, "Well, what ith it?" 

" Gro it ! " whispered Pinter major, 
prompting me behind. 

I felt that all eyes were on me, and 
I did more than warm with my sub- 
ject: I glowed with it into quite a 
perspiration. And, adopting Pinter 



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154 Skilled Lahore Distaste of American Boys for Trades. 



major's whispered advice, I deter- 
mined to "go it," or, as it were, die 
on the floor of the house. 

Looking up at the head master, I 
made this remarkahle request: — 

"If you please, sir, will you let 
them off?" 

Dr. Courtley considered. I was 
trembling with agitation. 

"Well," he said slowly, "ifth a 
noble thing to athk. It'th the part 
of a gentleman and a Chrithtian. I 
conthent." 

As if by inspiration, 41 hearty cheer 
was given. 

The doctor held up his hand. 
"But mind," he went on, "never let 
me hear of thith again ! If I do, de- 
pend upon it, ath it'th a dithgrathe 
to the thchool, it thall be motht the- 
verely punithed. Now you can go." 

No sooner had he disappeared, 
which he did by a side-door as rap- 
idly as possible, than the delighted 
boys insisted upon " hoisting " me, — 
a peculiar Holyshadian fashion of cel- 



ebrating the triumph of any one of 
their boating heroes, and closely re- 
sembling the old ceremony of chairing 
a member, or an Irish crowd's method 
of elevating on their shoulders a pop- 
ular counsel after the successful issue 
of a State trial. 

I had begun that day at Holyshade 
without a friend : before the night, I 
was hand and glove with the whole 
school 

But I made no friend here like 
Austin Comberwood, from whom I 
heard about the middle of the half, 
informing me that he was leaving 
England for his health's sake, and 
was to be accompanied as far as Nice 
by Mr. Venn, who was to act as his 
private tutor for some months to 
come. Austin added, that he thought 
Mr. Venn had obtained some appoint- 
ment abroad, and intended to live on 
the Continent. I was more interested 
in reading that Alice was, just now, 
the guest of the Cavanders, than in 
any news about Mr. Venn. 



[To be oontinoed.] 



SKILLED LABOR, AND THE DISTASTE OF AMERICAN 
BOYS FOR TRADES. 

FBOM A WOBKIKO-MAn's STAiniPOINT. 



Tiresome as may be the discussion 
of so-called "labor questions" to the 
majority of magazine-readers, the great 
magnitude of the movements in which 
the producing classes of Europe and 
America — laborers, farmers, and 
mechanics — are now engaged, in the 
endeavor to improve their condition, 
must attract the interest of all thought- 
ful men, regardless of any opinion as 
to the justice *or policy of strikes or 
trades-unions. Of the many phases 
of this labor-question, one of the most 
important relates to the matter of 
Bkilled workmen. I propose to^discuss 



briefly two facts in connection with. 
it, — the complaint of the growing 
scarcity of men competent to perform 
what they undertake, and the evident 
repugnance manifested by New-Eng- 
land boys to engage in mechanical 
pursuits. 

K one visits an industrial exhibi- 
tion, and observes the great variety 
of mechanical productions there dis- 
played, where every human want 
seems to be met, and even anticipated ; 
where pieces of complicated machinery, 
with a system of wheels and cogs ^nd 
pulleys almost bewildering^ all work 



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Skilled Labor, Distaste of American Boys for Trades. 155 



hannoniously to the accomplislimeiit 
of their purpose ; and where the ex- 
ternal adornment and fini^h seem as 
perfect as the internal movement, — he 
will be apt to think there is certainly 
no deterioration in skilled labor. And 
yet is the charge without foundation ? 
May the solution of the question not 
lie in the fact, that, while the results 
of combined labor are daily growing 
more striking^ the individual work- 
man is less capable ? 

The gradual introduction of machi- 
nery, with the consequent subdivision 
of labor, has broken up the old appren- 
ticeship system ; and the long training 
of hand and brain which a seven-years ' 
senrice with a few simple tools gave 
a boy — developing his perceptive 
faculties, and sending him out into the 
world quick-witted, self-reliant, and 
experienced, with the capacity to make 
himself familiar in a short time with 
any new mode of working — is lost. 
A few weeks or a few months now 
suflBce to learn the mysteries of running 
a lathe, a cutter, or a planer, of peg- 
ging a shoe, or of setting a page of type. 
Upon the slightest disarrangement of 
his tools, the workman stands idle while 
another, devoted to that specialty, is 
sent for to repair the damage. That 
acuteness to perceive what is needed, 
and promptness to execute, which a 
varied experience gives, is wanting 
in a large number of the mechanics 
of the present time. 

The rapid increase of wealth, espe- 
cially in the large cities, with the 
resulting luxury of living, is continu- 
ally calling into being new branches 
of industry, until a point is reached 
where the artisan is almost lost in the 
artist. For obvious reasons, these 
higher grades of mechanical skill 
receive the best pay ; and there is a 
constant movement upward of the best 
workmen, leaving what may be called 



the root-trades mainly in the hands 
of men inferior in ability and expe- 
rience. It so happens that these root- 
trades are those with which We come 
most frequently into contact: hence 
one reason for the cry of poor workmen. 
If your bookshelf, reverend sir, breaks 
down under the weight of Dr. Chari- 
ty^s sermons, while that of your father 
bore for half a century the much 
greater weight of those of Dr. Dogma, 
be pleased to remember that the grade 
of workman that finished your father's 
house is now engaged in making 
parlor organs for your daughters. The 
piano-forte business, which has reached 
such dimensions within twenty years, 
has made heavy draughts on the best 
cabinet-makers; the village black- 
smith is now an engineer; and the 
plasterer works in stucco. 

The frequent change of styles and 
fashions has also tended to, encourage 
a superficial workmanship. If a thing 
is expected to last for a short time 
only, why expend much'labor or pains 
on it? If your house is to be torn 
down, and rebuilt, when you have accu- 
mulated a little more money, mastic 
will answer the purpose as well as 
stone ; and a painted board fence may 
very well do duty for an additional 
story. A chief inducement urged by 
the agents of one of the popular sewing- 
machines is — that it will do its work 
well ? — not at all ; but that the work 
can be easily taken to pieces. In 
some things we have succeeded in 
combining lightness and strength, 
grace and usefulness ; but often mere 
polish and show have usurped the 
place of the old-time solidity and use. 

A great many unskilled workmen 
have been introduced into the trades 
through the agency of strikes. To • 
illustrate : An employer refuses to . 
accede to the demands of his men for 
an increase of pay, and the men strike. 



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156 Skilkd Labor^ Distaste of American Boys for Trades. 



The employer's aim is to tide over a 
few weeks, by some means, until his 
men are forced to return. To do this, 
he will put to work any one who has 
the least idea of the labor required, 
and will feel in honor bound to employ 
him after the strike is over. On the 
other hand, the strikers will open 
wide the doors of their unions, and 
receive every one who"\vould interfere 
with the success of their movement. 
Thus master and men combine to 
lower the standard of workmanship. 
Both suffer from it, to say nothing of 
their customers ; for the unskilful men 
will probably be th6 foremost in urging 
a new strike, as they will be the first 
to succumb if the contest prove an ob- 
stinate one. 

Thus this complaint of poor work- 
manship may be a reasonable one. 
How far a technical and industrial ed- 
ucation for boys may supply the place 
of the apprenticeship system, is a ques- 
tion yet to be solved. Before a seaman 
receives a certificate qualifying him to 
command a ship, he is obliged to pass 
a number of years in active sea- 
service, no matter what his theoretical 
qualifications may be; and we have 
just seen of how little avail a military 
training has been in Indian warfare, 
and how instinctively all thoughts turn 
to experienced Indian fighters. It is to 
be hoped that the subject will receive 
careful attention before any attempt is 
made to overthrow our present school 
system by the introduction' of tools, 
which may prove mere playthings. 

But, before we talk about educating 
mechanics, we must catch them ; and 
this brings me to the second portion 
of my subject, — the repugnance of 
New England boys to engage in me- 
• chanical pursuits. 

In vain does the press exhort and 
scold, and public orators waste their 
breath : the fact remains^ that the com- 



parative number of native-bom boys 
who seek to enter the workshop is very 
smalL While the country is overrun 
with commercial travellers, and the 
business-colleges crowded with sta- 
dents ; while swarms of young lawyers 
and doctors are let loose every year 
from the colleges ; while horse-railroad 
corporations are besieged by appli- 
cants, and every city has numerous 
agencies supported at the expense of 
the seekers for situations, — why is it 
that there are so few applications for 
opportunities to learn a trade ? And, 
more than this, why do so many Ameri- 
can mechanics seek every opportunity 
to desert their calling ? 

It seems to me there can be but one 
answer : An engagement in mechani- 
cal pursuits dojBs not present the 
same opportunity to reach those posi- 
tions in life aimed at by American 
boys that other callings do. 

We are not discussing the question 
of what should be the true end and 
aim of life, — whether a man should 
spend his days in striving for politi- 
cal office, or in heaping up money, or 
in attempts to " solve the Infinite." 
That is a matter for the West-End- 
parlor people to talk about. We are 
not proposing a theory, but seeking 
the cause of a fact. Taking American 
boys as they are, what are the prizes 
in' life for which they are striving? 

From the earliest colonial times, the 
American citizen has had a strong 
desire to " serve his country." There 
are cases on record of people declining 
to accept office, — generally some local 
affair, where there is small honor, and 
less profit ; but who ever heard of % 
man refusing to accept a seat in the 
United States Senate, unless he had 
some higher position in view ? All the 
talk of the so-called " upper classes " 
in America declining to take a part 
in politics is simply fudge. Many me n 



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SkSkd Labor y Distaste of American Boys far Trades. 157 



maj not be much interested in ward 
politics; but when you talk about 
ambassadorships — well, they are will- 
ing to sacrifice their private inter- 
ests for the good of the country. 
And many a man, after an honorable 
and successful business-career, has 
giren up comfort and peace of mind 
to be a nobody in Congress. From the 
time of old Mint-master John Hull — 
who wrote in his diary, under date of 
"1657, 9th of 1st, I was chosen by the 
town of Boston, though myself unmeet, 
to be one of the seven men to look after 
the town^s affairs. The Lord make me 
sensible of the new debt I am hereby 
obliged in, and give me answerable 
grace ! " — down to the youngster who 
read the election returns in the ward 
club-room last November, the holding 
of public office has been dear to the 
American heart. 

Now, engagement in mechanical 
pursuits does not lead to political pre- 
ferment Perhaps some one may cry 
out, " Why, wasn't President Lincoln 
a rail-splitter, and President Johnson 
a tailor, and President Grant a tanner, 
and Vice-President Wilson a cobbler, 
and Gen. Banks a factory-boy ? ^' and 
80 on. Yes ; and so were they all 
babies; and one fact had as much 
to do with their political elevation 
as the other. Their success in their 
earlier callings was so meagre, that 
they one and all got out of them as 
fast as possible : their hearts were not 
in the matter. President Lincoln 
might have split all the rails in Illi- 
nois, and Gen. Grant have tanned all 
the hides there, without either of tbem 
having arisen to the responsible posi- 
tion of fence- viewer or leather-in- 
spector. It is doubtful if all the noise 
about Mr. Lincoln's rail-splitting 
brought him fifty votes ; and this 
absurdity reached its climax when we 
were asked to vote for Mr. Seymour 



because he had been a " bleacher.'' 
It is to be hoped that we have had an 
end of those silly and mischievous 
biographies of " Mill Boys " and '' Bob- 
bin Boys'' and "Ferry Boys," &c, 
which, if they have any influence on 
real boys, only lead to a contempt of 
steady industry. It is not meant to 
be said that mechanics are never ap- 
pointed to office, but that the propor- 
tion is a small one compared to their 
numbers. For evidence of this, let 
any reader consult the roll of any of 
our city or state governments. Two 
or three years ago, Boston was agitated 
with the question of having a high- 
toned non-partisan representative city 
government. After much consul- 
tation, a list for mayor and aldermen 
was selected by citizens in convention ; 
and in Boston, the city of Franklin 
and Revere, where the evidences of 
mechanical skill and industry so much 
abound, no place was found for a 
mechanic, until, upon the matter being 
commented on by a city newspaper, 
some one of the candidates was in- 
duced to resign, that the oversight 
might be partially remedied. This 
for illustration. 

Another object to be aimed at in the 
mind of the young New-Englander is 
the acquirement of wealth ; and the 
whole tone of society tends to foster 
this ambition. The mode of its ac- 
quirement is a secondary matter. We 
have invented new, soft-sounding 
names to take the place of the old 
harsh ones of extortion, embezzle- 
ment, forgery, stealing ; and a dona- 
tion of money to the Church of St. 
Mammon will wonderfully enlarge the 
needle's eye. Now, the acquirement 
of a competence in mechanical pui^ 
suits is generally a long, tedious 
process, even to the master workman, 
to say nothing of the increasing diffi- 
culty of a journeyman's getting into 



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158 Skilled Labor ^ Distaste of American Boys for Trades. 



business at all. If any one wishes a 
plain; every-day proof of the compara- 
tively small number of mechanics who 
acquire elegant surroundings let him 
take half a dozen of our best Boston 
streets and avenues, — say Common- 
wealth and Columbus Avenues, Beacon, 
Marlborough, and Arlington Streets, 
and Chester and Union Squares, — 
and ascertain who reside on them. 
•He will 6nd that the greatest number 
of the dwellers on these broad and 
pleasant avenues are men engaged in 
buying and selling, or in professional 
life. There are many who heartily 
agree with wise Dr. Holmes, that a 
residence in a sunny city street, with 
its dry sidewalks and other comforts, is 
far preferable to a cottage by the most 
romantic swamp in the country ; and 
one of the greatest grievances that the 
city journeyman has to complain of, 
is that he has been driven from the 
cheerful city, and forced to take up 
his abode in the low lands of the sub- 
urbs, through which the lines of rail- 
road generally run. What wonder is 
it, then, that young men look with an 
evil eye upon the mechanical trades ? 
Another drawback to the choice of 
a mechanical life by a young New- 
En glander is the idea that he would 
nt)t thereby occupy such a desirable 
social position as if engaged in trade 
or in a profession. This is delicate 
ground, where statistics are at fault; 
but I think it will be generally admit- 
ted that there is a vague feeling abroad, 
that a young mechanic is not quite so 
desirable a companion for one's daugh- 
ters as a young clerk. Perhaps some 
reader may say that no sensible man 
or woman would entertain such an idea. 
But then, how few of us are sensible 
men and women ! Are we told, that, 
of the vast numbers who enter trade, 
only a few succeed ? This may bcj so. 
Every young man thinks he will be 



the one to succeed. The prizes are 
before him : the blanks have fallen out 
of sight Can this state of things, 
allowing it to be true, be remedied ? 
I shall not enter upon this subject 
The preceding statements are put 
forth as hints for thought. No evil 
can be remedied until it is brought to 
light, and made apparent The fol- 
lowing extract firom " The Kichmond 
Whig " presents a Southern view of 
the matter, and will bear reading in 
the North: — 

"A new era has dawned npon ns, — an age 
of utilitarianism, where the enei)^, industij, 
and enterprise of man mnst be taxed to their 
nttermoBt to keep pace with the demands of 
the time. No longer can oar young men con- 
tent themselves with a collegiate course that 
is to prepare them alone for the enjoyment of 
refined society. Baronial estates no longer 
exist for their support ; nor are hrains alone 
to be esteemed the only requL^^ites for success. 
The professions are overcrowded ; and fanning, 
as of old, when the eye of the master was 
worth more than the labor of his hand, is no 
longer profitable or practicable for all. The 
muscles must now be called into play : they 
must perform their full part in life's busy 
drama. It may be that the fastidious will be 
shocked at the bare mention of what they may 
esteem vulgar trade. This is wrong, — all 
wrong. It is but a prejudice, after all, natural, 
it may be, with some, but nevertheless foolish ; 
since it but too frequently leads to poverty, 
ofttimes to misery and disgrace. 

'* Why should not a skilled mechanic be en- 
titled not alone to respect and esteem, but to 
admission into the most refined society, if he 
possess all other requisites for its enjoyment ; 
in other words, if he be an educated gentle- 
man ? Let us consider this matter seriously 
for a moment ; for it is one well worthy the 
attention of every parent. A skilful mechan- 
ic is an independent man ; for let him go where 
he will, if he is honest and industrious, his 
craft will bring him support. He need seek 
favors of none. He has literally bis fortune 
in his own hands. Tet foolish parents, ambi. 
tious that their sons should 'rise in the 
world,* as they say, are more willing that 
they should study for a profession, with the 
chances of moderate success heavily against 
them, or even the risk of spending their man- 
hood in idleness, rather than learn a trade 



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159 



whicb win bring them manly strength, health, 
and independence. 

" The time has come when the workingmen 
of the coantry are to be felt as a power in the 
land. See to it, parents, that the false pride 
which always goes before a fall, and which has 



been the min of so many, is discarded, and 
yonr children educated ta become scientific, 
skilled mechanics, — a credit to their families, 
and ornaments to society. Remember that 
pride and poverty are poor companions." 

G. W. P. 



LOW TIDES. 



Warrington's, — two tiers of 
broad, shady piazzas, with a carayan- 
sary attached, in which people ate, 
slept, and danced. That it looked like 
a stranded Mississippi steamboat will 
not be denied ; but, as may have been 
remarked, " appearances are deceit- 
ful." That it was the shadiest, cool- 
est, most attractive place on the shore, 
everybody will agree when I have 
told the story of last summer at War- 
rington's. 

A sandy beach stretched its broad 
curve in front. It was a beach j^ar 
esxellence ; and there are just pro- 
portions in beaches, as well as in 
other features of natural scenery. 
This was precisely long enough for a 
walk, in which you could round your 
periods, glance at your illustrations, 
draw your agreeable conclusions, or 
leave them to a more agreeable indefi- 
niteness, and then, sweeping round 
with a wide curve at the end of the 
beach, open upon a new scene and a 
new topic. 

Confusion seize people who develop 
subjects ! and may they never come by 
sea or shore in sight of the blue flag 
of Warrington's ! " To be off," like the 
author of the " Noctes," " on every 
wind that blows," is the only rule for 
midsummer talk. 

As we turn to retrace onr steps, 
there is the record we have been un- 
consciously making of ourselves in the 
sand. 



If this beach were dropped down 
now into some laboratory of Nature, 
a future geologist, studying the newest 
sandstone, might say meditatively, 
" Footprints, — a neatly-cut outline 
emphasized at the heel, the high 
instep leaving no print on the sand. 
Beside it, marks of large, loose boots, 
one footprint deeper than the other, 
with the light trail and sharp dents 
of some instrument probably used in 
walking. Inference," he adds glib- 
ly: ^'a pretty woman and a lame 
old fellow." 

The obituary notices of science are 
not expected to be flattering. The 
pterodactyl, for any thing we know to 
the contrary, may be justly indignant 
at his portraits in the illustrated 
books of geology. Mrs. W. is cer- 
tainly a pretty woman ; at least she 
was a pretty child twenty years ago, 
when she sat on my knee, and John 
and the three children had not ap- 
peared above the horizon : and I — well, 
I suppose I am a lame old fellow. 
The sharp wound was healed long 
ago ; and, as for age, it is the very 
Indian-summer of life. 

But to return to our beaches. Far 
be it from me to exalt this bit of 
sand in any except the eminently hu- 
man way of abusing every other. Is 
it not easier to press down than to lift 
up, and more in accordance with grav- 
itation? Your short beach, that 
brings y#u up with a quick turn, rasps 



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160 



Low Tides. 



the temper with a vexing sense of 
limitation; and a long beach — good 
Heavens ! It is not a thing to be set 
down upon, excepting with a stout 
horse under you : for if there is a place 
where you can feel as nowhere else the 
littleness of man, especially as a loco- 
motive animal, it is there. And, ten 
to one, your long beach is bordered 
by a stretch of dreary sand-hills and 
marsh. It is a demoralized form of 
beach, — a vast, depressing, meaning- 
less nothing. Quicksands and other 
disreputable things may be expected 
there. Forty years ago, in such a 
place, my horse sank to his saddle- 
girths, and only a quick spring and 
lively work saved him from dropping 
in altogether, and pricking through 
somewhere in China for the use of the 
Celestials. And this not on any dis- 
reputable Southern shore, where sand 
is as unstable as political principles, 
but on a respectable beach, that sent 
Rantoul to the General Court. 

Such, then, was the beach that 
stretched its handsome curve in 
front of Warrington's. You have 
the scene. Time : an August after- 
noon, the tide running out. A light 
sea-breeze was lifting Pea-blossom's 
curls and her mother's flounces, set- 
ting all the feminine flummeries 
flying, and making everybody ill at 
ease, indisposed to lounge, and with 
that divine ferment in the blood that 
comes of superfluous life and health. 
Cobweb, Red-bud, and a dozen other 
little sylphs, in gay attire, romped and 
teased, thrust hands and feet through 
the railing with that insane desire for 
self-immolation which seems to ani- 
mate such innocents, and ** stumped " 
each other to all the impish tricks 
which the height of the balconies made 
dangerous. The boys, those Ishmael- 
ites (may H. H. forgive us ! ) whose 
bands in vacation are against every 



man's peace, and who. believe every 
one's hand against theirs, had taken a 
wider range ; and the blessed relief of 
their absence was only disturbed by- 
parental solicitude as to how thej 
might come or be brought back. 

A group of smooth-faced freshmen 
were looking gloomily at th^ re- 
treating tide. '* Let's go of^ Chick : 
couldn't we get a boat over those 
flats ? " said Jack to a young fellow 
baptismal ly named Henry, but, as 
this was judged too mature a title hy 
his schoolmates, familiarly known as 
Chick. 

"No," said the chicken desper- 
ately: "we can't. We should stick 
right there in sight of all these peo- 
ple, and have to wait for the tide. 
Slow, isn't it?" 

The Rev. Mr. Miller, a dyspeptic 
young man, who had been feeding 
on thinspun theories of the evolution 
of self-consciousness, till he had be- 
come attenuated, like his doctrines, 
looked hungrily up from his book as 
if the sea-breeze had given him a 
keen appetite for stronger food. Dr. 
Dobbs, a stout, solid T>.D,, without 
a fault in his digestion, or a flaw in his 
creed, — which a gradual accretion of 
honors and dignities made him care- 
ful not to examine too closely, — com- 
pact, sturdy, at peace with Warring- 
ton's and with^himself, walked briskly 
about, wondering that a place which 
was, in the nature of things, bound 
to entertain him, should have left 
him high and dry on the barren sands 
of a low tide. 

A group of smokers puffed tran- 
quilly on, discussing specie payment, 
and admonishing the sylphs ; and from 
within the window a sharp, querulous 
voice was piping to ray cheery friend, 
Mrs. W., the boarding-house gossip, 
which is such a dreariness to people 
not providentially constructed for it. 



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161 



" That second plate of turkey — I am 
sure it was veal." " Oh, no I '' said 
Mis. W. with reckless confidence. 
''Such things never happen, at least 
rarely." But the dreary piping went 
00. I knew thid sort of thing was 
for Mrs. W., a grand, generous per- 
son, that dull torture which couirtesy 
compels so many well-bred women 
to endure at summer resorts. 

There were certainly two satisfied 
and happy people on the piazza, — 
my nephew Syd, just reposing upon 
his graduating honors, and the pretty 
Griselda to whom he was talking. #It 
was high tide with them, — the full 
tide that follows other suns and moons 
Aan those we know of. Let them 
enjoy it ; for, like other tides, it ebbs. 

Hilda and Bessie looked into the 
torture-chamber at their mother, and 
then at me, with appealing glances, 
which said plainly enough, " What can 
we do for her?" It was evidently 
dead low water. Something must be 
done. I laid down a naturalist's 
magazme, in which I had been read- 
ing a lively reproduction of the fa- 
mous battle on the Stanislow, folded 
my eye-glasses, and gathered myself 
as Goethe says, " out of my scattered 
life." " Come, girls, ask your mother 
if you can go off with me to the 
rocks to hunt for animals. Any- 
body can go, big or little, with rub- 
ber-boots, old clothes, baskets, wide- 
mouthed bottles, and half an hour to 
make ready." This invitation drew 
in at once all the young ennuy^, 
Md most of the old ones. Mrs. W. 
was the first to appear with a face 
of mingled fun and gratitude, that a 
4)or of polite escape had providen- 
tially opened. 

We were a gay part jr as we crossed 
the beach ^th a rabble of little ones 
in the rear ; and, if I felt like the Pied 
Piper, it was only till a squad of 

XL 



nursery-maids — that convenient do- 
mestic police — set upon the children 
to see that no evil befell. 

Before we climbed the rocks, I mus- 
tered my forces. "What shall we 
expect to find?" said Dr. Dobbs. 
" Jollification," answered Chick, with 
that diffidence peculiar to jfreshmen. / 
" Be quiet, boys ! Tell* us, if you 
please, how to search for these 
things," said Mr. Miller. 

" Look into every rock-pool, lift up 
the brown seaweed, and when you see 
any thing noticeable, with or without 
motion "("Go for it!" said the Ish- 
maelites, who, from no one knew 
where, had gathered about us to see 
what was going on), " drop it into your 
jar," said I, serenely deaf to the inter- 
ruption, " with a bit of green seaweed 
for compiany ; and, when we come to- 
gether again, we will compare results.'* 

It was a rocky point stretching out 
into the sea, neither steep nor danger- 
ous, but with easy slopes to the water, 
and covered with bowlders great and 
small, with almost as many rock-pools 
between. These were overlaid with a 
thick growth of brown seaweed, mak- 
ing, when it is wet, and hangs dripping 
over a round rock, about as unsatis- 
factory footing as one can often find. 
Locomotion over this sort of founda- 
tion is to be accomplished quite as much 
with the hands as with the feet ; and, ' 
the seaweed lying deceptively over 
the surface of the pools, you are as 
likely to be in the water as out. In 
this sort of amphibious scramble, our 
saurian ancestors would have acquit- 
ted themselves, probably, with more 
grace than we. 

Bessie and Hilda followed me. 
We stooped over the first inviting 
rock-pool, shading it with our hats, and 
looked in. " Pretty enough," said Bes- 
sie ; " but there is nothing here." 

"Pebbles and shells," said Hilda; 



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162 



I/m Tides. 



*'and the shells move slowly about 
on the green seaweed, excepting one 
that hitched along in a queer, jerking 
way." And Hilda, taking him out, 
exclaimed, "Kot a cockle!'' "No, a 
hermit-crab. The first owner has been 
eaten^ perhaps, by a purpura, which has 
\ cut this small round hole in the shell." 
We soon found more hermits ; the 
girls declaring they were very like 
small lobsters, just the head and claws 
showing' at the entrance of the shelL 
"Unfinished lobsters," said Bessie, 
" with a soft tail, which they curl into 
the twisted part of the shell, only 
exposing the part that is covered with 
armor." 

" Strange," said Hilda, "that any 
creature should complete himself by 
stealing from another I " 

"Strange, but not unknown among 
the higher animals," said Dr. Dobbs, 
coming up, and watching with interest 
a fussy little hermit choosing a new 
house. After trying first one shell, 
and then another, he went back, a sad- 
der and wiser creature, to his old one. 
Carrying our bottled treasures to 
another rock-pool, we found Mr. Mil- 
ler patiently trying to disengage a 
sea-urchin. It had quite the look of a 
brown chestnut-burr, and, fully aware 
of the intentions of its younger broth- 
er in Darwin, was stubbornly declin- 
ing the invitation to leave its native 
element. 

" Try another, Mr. Miller. If you 
should succeed in detaching this 
one, the tentacles by which he clings 
to the rock might be torn. There is 
a little knack about this thing. A 
sudden jerk, and you will have them 
at once ; but, when their obstinacy is 
up, expect trouble. Apply the same 
formula to limpets and — children." A 
little colony of sea-urchins of all sizes, 
from a sixteenth of an inch to an 
inch and a half in diameter, were found 



under the edge of the rocks, in a dark 
comer ; and some of these, too large 
for our largest bottles, we dropped into 
the baskets, covering them with wet 
fucus. 

Meantime the Ishmaelites had found 
a great bowlder, oddly and beautifully 
ornamented with star-fishes. Sprawl- 
ing over the wet surface, hanging 
from the lower edge, gay in pink and 
yellow and brown, they had that 
always beautiful form about which 
Byron makes some pleasing remarks ; 
though, among the things which 
"have called themselves a star," he 
omits to mention these. 

Declining the enormous specimens 
which the Ishmaelites mischievously 
urged upon us, we selected some of 
the most reasonably proportioned to 
carry home ; my eager collectors no- 
ticing at once that there was a differ- 
ence among them, the small cri- 
brella being smoother, more bright- 
ly and variously colored, and with a 
slightly different style of behavior in 
managing his rays, as if he were drag- 
ging two of them behind him. 

"Hi!" called Syd with a sharp, 
warning tone, as* he and Griselda 
were leaning over the top of a rock, 
watching Hjlda and Bessie, as they 
turned up the brown seaweed with 
bare white arms. " Look out, girls ! " 
and the white arms came out of the . 
water, and the startled faces were 
raised just as a large lobster, 
whose green and brown were hardly 
distinguishable from the seaweed, 
scuttled slowly out from under it, like 
a man-of-war preparing for attack. 
He fought Syd's cane fiercely, but 
was at last landed in a small rock- 
pool for exhibition. Cobweb and 
Ked-bud looked on with wide eyes 
of wonder. " Is that a lobster ? I 
thought they were red," said* Cob- 
web. " Yes, dear," said Syd sweetly : 



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^ the lobsters you have seen were red ; 
but red lobsters are not the dangerous 
species. They never bite, but are 
bitten. Now, girls," he continued, 
"if you don't want to meet a fellow 
like that in a dark hole under the 
seaweed, explore your pools first with 
a stout stick. See! he has already 
lost a claw in a fight ; and another is 
growing in its place, — a convenient 
way these creatures have of repairing 
damages." 

As the sun was going down, and 
we went slowly home wet, and not 
very clean, but superlatively cheerful, 
we voted ourselves the Amphibious 
Club, or — as " art is long, ai^d time 
fleeting " — Amph ibs. Mrs. Warri n g- 
ton, who could never deny her young 
people any thing, at Hilda's entreaty, 
made over to us the west room which 
was unfurnished, and used only in 
emergencies. Here we extemporized a 
table, brought crockery basins (tin was 
voted unsuitable) ; and into these we 
turned our swimming, squirming, wrig- 
gling treasures. Just as the work was 
done, the sun dipped beneath the west- 
em water, and the sunset gun sounded 
with a dull thud from the distant 
fort. 

The west room became the centre 
of attraction at Warrington's, where 
some part of the family could gener- 
ally be found watching the curious 
ways of our new friends. It was 
decided that crockery was ugly ; and 
glass jars were sent us from town. 
The sea-urchins and star-fishes so 
resembled each other, that the sylphs 
listened with undoubting faith when 
8yd explained how to make a sea-ur- 
chin out of a star-fish, — *' Just bend 
the rays back till they meet in the 
middle, take a few stitches to keep 
them in place, and you have your sea- 
urchin all complete." "Now, Syd," 
•aid Mrs. W. indignantly, "you 



shall not abuse the trust of- these 
children." 

" But, my dear Mrs. W., it is based 
on the eternal homologies." — " On 
the eternal disposition of young men 
to tease little girls." — " They will 
turn the tables upon us soon enough ; 
but I repent. Come, Cobweb, and see 
them eat; for eating is at least an 
eternal necessity." The children were 
soon appeased, w.atcbing the bits of 
fish, which Syd dropped upon the ten- 
tacles, carried slowly up by them to 
the wonderful mouth. 

Turning over rocks one day, Jack 
found our two brittle stars, curious 
from their resemblance to the star- 
fishes, but not so attractive as their 
pretty relatives. The long, slender 
arms of one, and mottled look of the 
other, suggested snakes and spiders ; 
and a pettish way of breaking off their 
arms on small provocation made it 
difficult to get them safely into the 
jars. But, as Bessie suggested that 
the star-fishes might like to have a 
family party some time, we put in the 
less attractive members. 

Since the girls' encounter with the 
lobster, the Ishmaelites had been anx^ 
ious to make up for their soft-hearted- 
ness in letting the old pirate go, by 
catching some of the younger mem- 
bers of his family ; and at last suc- 
ceeded in finding a little fellow two 
inches long, which was triumphantly 
dropped into a jar, where he made 
himself so diverting, that his frequent 
raids upon his fellow-boarders were 
winked at. One morning, Jack and 
Chick, always on the qui vive for in- 
cidents, proclaimed that something 
was the matter with the lobster. We 
found him changing his shell, — as 
strange a performance, though not so 
weird and awesome, as the breaking- 
out of a butterfly from its chrysalis. 
How he slips off his tight gloveSy 



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opens the joints of his annor, leayes 
it about as good as new, and comes 
out perfect and entire, is curious 
enough. The Ishmaelites were so 
much interested in his performances, 
and especially in his fighting propen- 
sities, that lobsters and hermit-crabs 
were in great demand at once. They 
had hermits of three sorts, and of 
all sizes, including some superb 
fellows which Larry the fisherman, 
who had a soft place in his heart 
for the Ishmaelites, had brought 
from a distant sandspit. These were 
living in large natica-shells, and with 
their granulated orange claws, and 
look of ferocity, were the pride of the 
boys, who rejoiced especially in their 
noisy movements as they rattled the 
natica-shells about the glasses. 

'^ But, uncle, we must find an anem- 
one,^^ said Bessie. Now, some of 
the Amphibs had heard lectures about 
them ; but only Syd and I had seen 
the real thing. " What is it like ? '' 

'^ Closed, it is like a cushion of hard 
jelly, with the shape of an inverted 
tea-cup ; open, it is like a fiower set 
on a stalk, sometimes long and grace- 
ful, sometimes short and thick. It 
is like a dahlia or chrysanthemum.^' 
'' Exquisite creature I " said Arabella. 
" And eats raw beef," I added. 
^^Ughl'^ said my fastidious friend. 
"A beef-eating flower!'' "Sensi- 
tive, and shrinks at the slightest 
touch; (Arabella was all interest 
again), and, if you cut off a piece of 
its body, will mend itself, and be as 
perfect as ever. Is hard to remove, 
but moves itself from place to place." 
"Yes," said asturdy young Ishmaelite. 
" It will move when it wants to ; but 
it won't be moved by anybody. Let's 
get some ! I like that sort" 

^' You will not find them so easily 
as other things ; but lift up the long 
seaweed; look under every shelving 



rock, into every deft and nook and 
cranny, at dead-low water, and you 
will find them." 

A long hunt. It would have been 
wearisome, but that we were always 
finding new things ; and the tramp 
over a wild and beautiful shore has 
its own fiiscinations. We came at 
last upon an ugly little colony of 
brown anemones. Arabella was dis- 
appointed ; but a shout of rapture from 
Bessie brought us all round a deep 
rock-pool, in which was a radiant bed 
of them. The exquisitely soft tinta^ — 
white and pearl, orange, red, and ver- 
milion, — and the feathery delicacy 
of the fringing tentacles against the 
dark green seaweed, might well have 
excited a leas eager group. Hilda 
was in speechless admiration. 

" But how to get them ? " said the 
practical Dr. Dobbs. 

" It is a work of time and patience 
to take them off nicely. Insert your 
nail gently under the edge, and 
work slowly round till it is fr^ee.*' 
Sleeves were rolled up ; and some of 
the longest arms went in up to the 
shoulder. Dr. Dobbs cheerfully in- 
verted himself, — let his brain run 
down to his finger-tips, — and worked 
patiently till he brought up one but 
little torn. We covered it with -wet 
fucus, and tried again, carrying home 
at last a collection, whit^h, though they 
were only a mass of unpleasantness in 
the basket, everybody had faith to be- 
lieve would blossom out into beauty 
in glasses. And they did. fiovr 
radiantly bright, how graceful and 
lovely, there is no use in tell- 
ing, if you never saw one. Xhey 
were to be the glory of the jars for- 
evermore. Somebody sent us afteiv 
ward a red one of a different species, 
packed in wet seaweed from Itf t. 
Desert. It was at first greatly ad- 
mired^ — "So brilliantly colored, so 



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striking I" Bat its day of triumph 
was short Arabella suggested that 
it was " coarse ; " Hilda added " un- 
refined ; " Chick supplied " loud ; " 
and Jack completed its doom with 
"flashy." Rhodactinia died of mor- 
tification and homesickness ; and Ac- 
tinia marginata reigned in her stead. 

It is not to be supposed that our 
jars were an entire success ; but is it 
to be expected that we shall entertain 
other people with our disasters? 
The Ainphibs emptied a great many 
fiulare« quietly into the sea. We 
were tender of each other's feelings, 
and looked a different way when a 
sad procession went forth bearing a 
vase of unsavory odors. Ah artist, who 
had a wretched trick of plain speak- 
ing, exclaimed one day, as he looked 
at Hilda's glass, "By Jupiter! It 
is just the coloring of Page's Venus. 
I Dever understood that picture before. 
She is rising from a spoiled" — 
" What ? " said Hilda, turning quickly 
with a vexed look* on her delicate 
fiwie. « Who is Page ? " — « A great 
colorist, my dear, — great colorist." 

Shall we tell how we over-stocked 
the glasses, and every thing smoth- 
ered ? how we put in too much seaweed, 
and the water turned green ? how we 
forgot to draw the curtains, and every 
thing cooked ? or what an underhand 
way the creatures had of dying, — 
skulking behind rocks, — so that the 
water was poisoned before we suspected 
danger? Shall we publish these trou- 
hles ? Never. An Amphib, like the 
ton of Alknomook, "scorns to com- 
pUin.'' But we will tell how we 
feamed to clean thoroughly every rock 
<ffl which the bits of green seaweed 
grew before we put them into the jars ; 
how careful a watch we kept at last, 
calling a muster-roll in the morning 
over our glasses, and stirring up a 
miniature storm^ splashing or drip- 



ping, or blowing air through a bellowSi 
— any thing to make a little whole- 
some excitement. 

The sylphs brought Iceland moss, 
bleached by long tossing about, and 
put it in the glasses when it should 
have been in the blanc mange. Re- 
sults : unsatisfactory. Then the older 
Amphibs tried the same thing in a 
healthy state, — the iridescent chron- 
dus with its steely blue sheen on a 
brown base of color. This did bet- 
ter ; though white, unwholesome spots 
would sometimes appear. The red 
coralline, which spreads in a pink coat- 
ing over the rocks, and then rises 
in stiff, coral-like tufts, did good ser- 
vice, and was extremely pretty when 
it was gemmed in the sunshine with 
diamond beads of oxygen. 

Theulva,with its cabbage-like fronds, 
was, after all, the most useful plant ; 
and not behind this the enteromorph% 
with its green, hollow, ribbon-like 
fronds making a forest of green in 
which the small creatures disported. 
Sandskippers — with which the un- 
der-surfaces of the rocks swarm— -dart- 
ed in and out ; and ghostly shrimps, 
with transparent bodies and weird pro- 
jecting eyes. These shrimps were the 
treasure-trove of Cobweb and Pea-blos- 
som, who, forbidden the rocks, had 
taken to the marshes, and dragged the 
little creeks with their butterfly nets, 
bringing us plenty of minnows and 
shrimps. 

All through August the aqueous 
fever raged; but we had no other. 
Typhoid appeared at the Bellevue and 
the Cliff House, but nothing at War- 
rington's, excepting insanity among 
the Amphibs. Dr. Jaque said there 
was little danger of typhoid-fevers, 
as we should not probably have two 
diseases at the same time ; an inflam* 
mation in one place often relieving 
another: so we proceeded as before. 



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on the physiological principle of keep- 
ing our heads hot, hanging over one 
rock-pool, and our feet cool, resting in 
another. 

The pretty flummeries in the Sara- 
toga trunks appeared only at high 
water ; so that full dress was naturally 
expressed as " high water toilet," or 
" full tidal display." 

Arahella came home, one day, with 
a creature, which she declared was 
made for her special delight. She 
had seen a bit of pink-and-white jelly 
upon a green frond of ulva, and, on 
the general principle of taking every 
thing, dropped it into her bottle, 
where it slowly stretched itself to an 
inch of delicate prettiness, raised the 
pink-tinted branchias along its sides, 
and with a graceful movement began 
to explore its surroundings. It was 
our first aeolis. Cobweb and Red- 
bud were in joyful delight at its odd 
accomplishment of walking on the 
under surface of the water, like a fly on 
the ceiling. Bits of brown and white 
jelly were now especially sought, and 
pink tips looked for under every bit 
of seaweed. It was not long before 
we had a doris, duller in coloring, 
and with an arborescent tuft on his 
back, instead of the pink fringes. 
"A lower order of creature, alto- 
gether," Arabella said, and my 
young people agreed ; for, " if pretti- 
ness could not give rank, what 
could ? " said the sweet-faced aristo- 
crats. 

The beauty of these nudibranch mol- 
lusks, like that of a famous queen, 
covered a multitude of sins. It was 
proved beyond a doubt that they took, 
now and then, a bite from the tenta- 
cles of the anemones ; but their sins 
were winked at. They were allowed 
to live ; for is not beauty, according 
to Emerson, '^its own excuse for 
being"? • 



Children, with a wisdom and taste 
they sadly outgrow, are always fond 
of collecting shells. As Cobweb 
bends now over her lapful of treas- 
ures, it is sad .to think how black care 
will sit some day on her golden curls, 
and how, in what is called social life 
and the petty cx)mplications of house- 
keeping, she will forget these pure and 
perfect joys. We will not think of it. 
Perhaps, like one we knew long ago, 
she will learn how to lighten cares 
she cannot escape, — one who, when 
nurses dropped at their post, and 
servants were faithless, and she stood 
alone in one of the sharp crises 
of domestic affairs, could slip away 
for a moment to look at a new hj- 
droid in her aquarium, slowly reach- 
ing out its tentacles to the infinite 
Care-taker, and be sure that the Provi- 
dence watching all life in far-off pools 
on the lonely shore she loved was 
also watching and keeping her. 

A fine shell, with exquisite curves 
and delicate tintilig, is the most per- 
fect thing in nature. We set it con- 
fidently against Mr. Higginson^s 
bird's-egg ; though this climate does 
not certainly produce the specimens 
on which a man might stake his repu- 
tation. 

But one of our native shells is a 
far more interesting object in the 
possession of its original owner — tbe 
work of his life, his home, his orna- 
ment, his crown — than the same 
thing tossed up empty on the beach, 
and belonging to nobody. My little 
foragers were often bringing live shells 
to show me the curious ways of the 
small housekeepers. They preferred 
the crepidulas empty ; for then they 
could see the boat with a seat for some 
bit of a merman rower : whereas, when 
the boat was turned upside down, and 
the owner beneath, he was the dullest 
of creatures, and seldom moved* The 



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smooth-shelled littorinas, creeping 
aboat on the rock-weed, were always 
attractive from their bright colors. 
The purpura was, as many another 
deserved to be, convicted a burglar 
and murderer, making holes in his 
neighbor's houses, and eating the own- 
ers. From muddy creeks the children 
came with soiled stockings and black- 
mottled nassas, — " little elephants,'* 
they said, "with Indian towers on 
their backs ; " and one might always 
find in Pea-blossom's jar the striped 
tents of the limpets, streamers of 
green seaweed waving from their tops. 

But the sylphs soon found rarer 
treasures. One bright morning. Cob- 
web, Red-bud, and Pea-blossom came 
ronniiig to my chair on the piazza 
with faces of solemn import. 

" Uncle Cyrus, you said there were 
no flowers in the sea." 

" No : I said I had not seen any." 

"Jast the same," said the small 
court, sitting at once on my knee and 
my delinquencies, and judging my 
veracity and information in a breath.. 
"But there are. We've seen 'em." 

"Were you not forbidden going to 
the rocks?" 

^ We didn't : we went to the steam- 
boat landing." Shade of Herod I Vis- 
ions of drowned sylphs, with dank 
curls and closed eyes, rose before me. 

"We saw them far down in the 
water, pink and white, like stars." 

" No, not like stars. Cobweb. They 
were just like the innocence that 
grows in the field, — only pink be- 
cause they grow in the water, you 
know. Now, Uncje Cyrus, do get us 
some." 

Such appeals it was not for an old 
fellow like me to withstand. I got 
the boat, paddled round, and lifted the 
dump of hydroid polyps out of the 
water, and into the glass jar, amid 
the bliBsfxil sighs of the children. 



"So small! so perfect! so flower- 
like I held with so proud a grace on 
the little stems ! so altogether love- 
ly I " were the admiring exclamations 
of the Amphibs. 

^ The children's discovery turned 
the tide of investigation toward the 
smallest and daintiest denizens of the 
sea. Crabs and anemones, lobsters 
and sea-urchins, were considered com- 
mon. Microscopes were brought out ; 
and every one was anxious to go at 
once for the hydroid polyps. And, by 
hydroid polyps, the Ainphibs meant 
the only kind they knew, — these pret- 
ty tubularians. With an old man's 
horror of becoming tediously instruc- 
tive, I had introduced my aqueous 
friends by their family name ; as Miss 
Brown, not saying it was Ann Brown 
till we had found Jane, and wished 
to distinguish her from Ann. 

It was not difficult to find the polyps ; 
for their resorts were as familiar to 
me as those of the trillium and gen- 
tian. I had kept a jar for my private 
delectation all summer, in which I had 
been watching that development of 
hydroids into jelly-fishes which is one 
of the "fairy-tales of science'^ (Per- 
haps one of those referred to by the 
unhappy young man in " Locksley 
Hall"). We found them near low- 
water mark, from two to four inches 
high, in tufts like Houstonia or vio- 
lets, and as easy to disengage as a bit 
of sphagnum in a damp wood. Mr. 
Miller, whose keen, clear mind was 
alive to any marvel of structure, as 
well as to any beauty of form, was 
curious about the other hydroids, and 
found at once a modest campanula- 
rian. It has no brilliancy of color to 
recommend it ; and one would say at 
first sight, " Just a little brown plant" 
When I pointed out the yellow thread- 
like tracery of the sertularians on the 
fucus, and the tasselled fringes which 



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had been flaunting in onr very faces, 
and hanging over the rock-pools all 
summer, the Amphibs marvelled at 
their own blindness. Some of us 
thought these last — in which the 
polyps were not always on exhibition, 
like the tubularians, but had an enter- 
taining way of appearing and dis- 
appearing in the myriad little homes 
of their living city — were equally 
attractive. 

Is there anywhere an image of 
peace so absolute as this life under 
the sea? Work-worn people, who 
have fought your fight for better or 
worse from September to July ; seen 
your treasures changed in a night to 
dust which offends your eyes and 
nostrils ; who have tried to do good 
to those who did not want any good, 
to teach those who would not learn, to 
sow seed which hardly seemed to reach 
the ground before the wind of our 
eternal^ hurry and excitement carried 
it off 5 who have cried peace within the 
church-walls where the echoes mocked 
you with the perpetual warring of 
sects within sects, — come out to the 
open shore, lie down by some clear 
pool in the shadow of a great rock, 
let your wide-brimmed hat (which 
you can buy for ninepence) shut you 
in from the world, and there, in the 
limpid water, you will find peace it- 
self, or at least \t% sweet, delusive sem- 
blance. Barnacles, slowly and with 
measured motion, open and shut their 
brown hands, asking and receiving; 
anemones tranquilly spread their gen- 
tly-waving tentacles ; littorinas creep 
over the ulva ; and the tubularians lift 
their flower-like heads in a peace 
unknown to blossoms of the upper 
world. 

As the cool September days came, 
and the flocks, gathering from green 
pastures^ recalled their shepherds. Dr. 
Dobbs left us, and Mr. Miller followed. 



His people, believing in the gospel of 
Nature, it may be supposed, lingered 
longer to study it But all the Am- 
phibs who returned home agreed to 
meet again at Warrington's on one of 
those notable days when the sun and 
moon, pulling together, have piled up 
the waters far away somewhere out 
at sea, and swept the shore dryer and 
cleaner than at any other season. A 
true Amphib holds high jubilee at the 
equinoxest On the day appointed, we 
mustered in force. The sylphs and 
Ishmaelites were allowed to accompany 
us ; " for," as one of our bachelors con- 
solingly remarked, " if any of them 
were drowned, we should be sure to 
know it.'' Coming from our beds be- 
fore the sun was up, provided with 
hard-tack, and armed and equipped for 
plunder, we went down to the shore — 
no, down to the bottom of the sea. 
Rock-pools you can hardly peep into 
all summer are now far up on the 
shore, and every rare and delicate crea- 
ture that haunts the ocean exhibits 
its treasures at these two yearly fes- 
tivals with an open hand. Alas 
that there are so few to see them I To 
walk on the bottom of the sea, and 
peer into places where no one, perhaps, 
ever looked before, has a wonderful 
fascination. If the treasures you find 
do not seem to you rarer and finer 
than any ever found before, I can only- 
pity you, and thank fortune it was 
not so with the Amphibs. We found — - 
what did we not find? Who shall 
tell what may be seen at a low Sep- 
tember tide ? Schiller's diver is the 
only one outside of the Amphib club 
who knows any thing about it. But 
another September tide is coming, if 
the sun and moon get on comfortably 
together, and carry out their present 
intentions. Warrington's (bless it 
from the under-pinning to the flag- 
staff I) still overhangs the beach of 



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169 



beaches. Glass jars are already to 
be seen in the west room. We 
have persuaded a young disciple of 
Agassiz to come and preside over our 
bottles and blunders for the summer. 
And now Penikese may look out for its 
laurels. A young Amphib may some 
day blossom out into a scientist ; but 
an old Amphib (must we confess, alas ! 
that there is a chill in our Indian 



summer ?) — an old Amphib never. 
The cares of this world, and the de- 
ceitfulness of riches, choke a great 
many pleasant things.. But if any 
man or woman feels within the stir- 
rings of the true Amphib, let him 
come to Warrington's. 

N.B. — This is not an advertise- 
ment. 



A HOPELESiS ATTACHMENT. 



BY THEODORE M. OSBORNE. 



Mb. Adolphus Ardbn was mak- 
ing himself very comfortable at the 
western parlor-window of his father's 
house on the Back Bay. The sunset 
was veiy fine; although Mr. Arden, 
who was in the habit of "doing" his 
sunsets in the summer at the moun- 
tains or seaside, had not observed it 
The window overlooked a clear vista 
of level ground, whose roughness and 
obtrosive newness were concealed by 
the snow, now flushed with the level 
light, and showiixg in its broken shad- 
ows all lovely shades of purple and 
mjsteriousopaline tints. Farther out 
was the glittering land of ice in 
the basin, where a few skaters were 
swinging slowly about in graceful 
curves, indistinct, except as now and 
then a skate flashed out, uplifted in 
, the long stroke. Beyond, lay the hill 
in shadow ; the trees on its summit 
darkly outlined against the clear am- 
ber sky ; and a house, which caught 
the sun on its windows, glowing as if 
it were some rosy illumination. Over 
»U stretched a long cloud, whose 
gleaming borders shifted through 
many bright changes, — from gray 
through gold and orange and rose- 
color and burning crimson, — till its 
gray ashes were scattered on the wind 



which started up from the fading 
west. 

Meanwhile, Mr. Arden, having laid 
down his novel as the light failed, was 
indulging in the manly pastime of 
tormenting the family cat, who had 
settled herself in the easy-chair, in 
the delusive prospect of sleepy bliss. 
He was just in the act of taking off 
an electric spark from the indignant 
creature's nose, when Miss Edith 
Arden came in, and, perceiving the 
situation, looked reproachfully at her 
brother, and said, " I've a good mind 
not to give you your invitation." 

Adolphus, who despised curiosity, 
remained silent nearly a minute be- 
fore asking, in an indifferent tone, 
"What invitation?" 

" I've just had a note from Bessie ; 
and she has sent me some tickets to 
the theatricals they are going to have 
at Short wood. There'll be lots of 
nice girls on the stage. I don't know, 
on the whole, as it will be safe to take 
you there." 

At the preposterous idea of his 
being in danger from any feminine 
charms whatever, Adolphus smiled 
indulgently. It was too dark for effec- 
tive smiling ; but it was good practice, 
and he prided himself on being a 



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A JBopeless Attaeknent. 



smiler of great talent. To be sure, 
some of his friends saw a large same- 
ness in the habit, and often showed 
great dulness. as to the effect which 
he wished to convey ; when — as it 
would be rather a delicate matter to 
explain, **^ that smile conveyed a with- 
ering scorn," or "that meant kind 
toleration " — he would compose his 
features with the reflection that artis- 
tic perception of expression cannot be 
expected of all. It sometimes oc- 
curred to him that his mustache 
might interfere with the finer expres- 
sions about his mouth ; but he could 
not make up his mind to abolish it, 
— a sacrifice which was indeed quite 
unnecessary, as it did not quite reach 
over his upper lip; and its ends, 
to the length of nearly half an inch, 
were tightly twisted away from his 
face. 

Edith's little challenge had the de- 
sired effect of a gracious acceptance 
on the part of Adolphu^, who — bear- 
ing up under a daily burden of three 
hours' attendance at his uncle's law- 
office, and a farther confinement at 
home in company with several leather- 
bound volumes, a newspaper, and a 
pipe — did not always feel able to con- 
duct his sister to such amusements. 

Edith, having lighted the gas-stand 
on a table near the window, stood 
looking at her brother, seeming quite 
pleased at the prospect of his compa- 
ny. Presently she said, " Bessie writes 
that Alice Mayton, who takes the first- 
lady's part, is quite irresistible." 

Adolphus did not think this worth 
the trouble of another smile, but drew 
up his chair in silence, and plunged 
into his noveL 

"What a nice thing it would be," 
thought Edith, " if he would fall in 
love with some girl who would help 
him to get settled in life I " . 

Such are the noble views of the 



divine passion that mothers and sis- 
ters place before their dear son and 
brother ! They want to have him an- 
chored to his place in the order of 
things, by a sort of social encum- 
brance in the shape of a wife. And, 
as for the fortunate fair one, what 
higher lot could she desire than to 
devote herself to settling a young 
man in life ? "What though he be a 
little restless fmd selfish ? — so much 
the more honor ! 

There had been much excitement 
in the Shortwood Dramatic Clnb, pre- 
paratory to the public exhibition with 
which they were about to close their 
season. All through the winter, 
meeting at each other's houses, they 
had been content with parting off the 
back of a parlor for a stage, and with 
such properties as an ingenious dis- 
position of the furniture would afford. 
Tlie indulgent audiences had their 
imaginations so well in training, that 
they were not a whit surprised at see- 
ing the dramatic sportsman go to the 
back-parlor door, and fire into the 
kitchen (to the audible discomposure 
of the cook) at a flock of dramatic 
pigeons. There was a stir of real 
enthusiasm when the bandit, coming 
in firom the closet, groped his way 
across the parlor-carpet over imaginary 
bowlders ; and when a youth (visible 
to a third of the audience) let forth a 
terrific gush of mock thunder from a 
piece of zinc, and flashed a kerosene- • 
lamp, there were some who actually 
trembled — as well they might. 

But now, having vanquished such 
histrionic difficulties, they were fain 
to charm a larger audience, and at 
the same time enjoy the pleasure of 
acting with real scenery, and more va- 
ried costume. Accordingly they en- 
gaged a hall containing a real stage 
with footlights, and so many complete 
changes of scenery, that the number 



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of combinations possible was im- 
mense. 

Having gone so far, the next diffi- 
culty was the choice of a play. The 
meetings of the committee on plays 
were almost smothered in little yel- 
low play-books; and several deadly 
feuds sprang from the matter among 
the members of the club. At last it 
was agreed to settle all difficulties by 
choosing the actors, and having the 
play written to suit them by the liter- 
ary member. 

The committee on actors going into 
executive session came out, as is Usual 
in such cases, with the appointment 
of all the obtrusive members who were 
determined to act, and quietly laid 
on the shelf all but one of the really 
good actors, whose dispositions could 
bear the disappointment. The excep- 
tion was in flavor of Miss Alice May- 
ton, who was acknowledged to be the 
only one for her part There are 
always dozens of young ladies who 
can appreciate and act a servant's 
part, to one who can personate a 
heroine. It is so much easier to act 
something quite outside one's self! 

Then the literary member gathered 
together his material in the shape 
of a pile of the yellow-covered books 
before mentioned ; and, going to work 
under the persistent advice of the 
actors and the company's scenic art- 
ist, he soon produced a play combin- 
ing a number of points, that, as was 
remarked by the club critic, was truly 
amazing. There was some dispute in 
regard to a name, the general voice 
being in favor of a monosyllable; 
while the author was unable to con- 
dense any idea of the contents of the 
play into so small a space. But at last 
the critic, by a happy impulse at which 
he was himself the next moment as- 
tonished, suggested the, title " Why ?" 
Considering the reasonableness of the 



incidents, it was, perhaps, one of the 
happiest names on record. Then it 
made such an appeal to the attention 
of the audience ! it was. the very em- 
bodiment of romantic mystery. It 
was unanimously accepted. 

Among the original features of tlie 
play may \>e mentioned a cruel uncle, 
one poor but honorable young lover, 
one rich middle-aged ditto, three ser- 
vant-girls (the smallest number by 
which applicants for places could be 
appeased), and two country louts, who 
alone would have given sufficient cause , 
for the enigmatic title of the play 
in not being inmates of the asylum 
for idiotic and feeble-minded youth. 
In view of these and other merits, it 
is no wonder that the title of the 
play was reiterated at the very next 
issue of "The Shortwood Weekly 
Longbow," in the question, " Why is 
not the author a contributor to our 
periodical literature ? " Then began 
rehearsals, at first somewhat confused 
by the free expression of individ- 
ual criticism, then proceeding more 
smoothly and sweetly as the actors 
and actresses — by that law inevitable 
to private theatricals, and which dis- 
regards all previous connections — be- 
gan to pair off, and to sit by twos in 
corners, when off the stage. 

At length the day for dress-rehear- 
sal arrived ; and with it came a most 
unaccountable cold to Miss Mayton, 
who found herself quite unable to 
speak aloud at breakfast. When Tom 
Mayton heard her voice, he looked 
up from his coffee, and remarked that 
" here was a go." 

" Don't you think I can make my- 
self heard ? " murmured Alice pite- 
ously. 

" Well, your voice might do for a 
hush of agony ; but I wouldn't try to 
come any rapture with those tones," 
said he. " Did I tell you that Frank 



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A Hopeless AitacknetU. 



Vernon is coming over this morning 
to help about the scenery ? He has 
had lots of experience in the Hasty 
Pudding Club at Harvard, and is just 
the man we want." 

After breakfast; Miss Alice sat 
down and thought over all the girls 
in the club for a substitute. ; but there 
was not one' who would suit. Be- 
sides, she had made some slight 
changes in the part, much to its im- 
provement; and no one but herself 
understood them. While she was 
pondering over these difficulties, the 
bell rang ; and immediately after Mr. 
Frank Vernon entered, expecting to 
find Tom. He had no sooner opened 
the door than Tom's sister, whom he 
had met rather formally once or twice, 
impulsive (as a good actress should 
be), rushed up to him, laid a hand on 
each shoulder, and cried in ah agon- 
ized whisper, "Mr. Vernon, what 
shall we do about my voice ? " 

Now,' there are situations more 
composing to the mind of a young 
gentleman than looking into a pair of 
brown eyes (or, for that matter, eyes 
of any color) while their fair owner 
holds 'him to the purpose with a firm 
little grip on either shoulder: so 
that it is not at all surprising that 
Mr. Vernon hesitated so long in his 
answer that she bluslied, and drew 
away her hands, whispering, "Oh, 
dear I You must excuse me. I am so' 
anxious about that part of Leonora ! '^ 

Having appeased conventionality 
by retiring to a tete-a-tete, she set 
forth her difficulties ; and Mr. Vernon, 
after listening sympathetically, said 
that he had an idea. He had some- 
times taken a lady's part at the Pud- 
ding; and, if Miss Mayton would, 
teach him the part, he would under- 
take to carry it through. At this un- 
expected prospect of relief. Miss May- 
ton made a little feminine movement 



of gratitude toward him, such as is, 
philosophically considered, the proba- 
ble relic of a former barbarous habit 
of throwing the arms about a bene- 
factor's neck. She whispered her 
heartfelt thanks, pulled out her play- 
book, and began to show him her 
points. She spent the whole fore- 
noon in drilling him. Tom came in, 
whistled for an instant, and, learning 
the state of the case, retired. Din- 
ner-titne found them deep in the 
question of costume. It was finally 
decided that he should bring costumes 
used by him before, and be dressed by 
an artist friend, who, he said, would 
remedy any little defects of complex- 
ion. Miss Mayton was to provide 
the jewels, and give him the finishing- 
touches, and was to whisper through 
the dress-rehearsal, and say nothing 
about the change until the last mo- 
ment, when it would be too late for 
objection. He was to come to the 
Maytons' to be dressed, and be driven 
to the hall : then the thing could be 
explained; and none of the audience 
would know any thing about it. Ver- 
non could manage his voice so as to 
make it an excellent imitation of a 
contralto ; and nothing remained but 
to commit his part With this under- 
standing he left in the afternoon. 

It seemed, to Tom, rather singular 
that his sister had no doubts of Ver^ 
non's ability to fill the part. But 
artists always know each other ; and 
the event proved her to be right. 
Every thing went on smoothly. Ver- 
non studied his part all the next 
day, and was so absorbed in it, that, 
when he was called up in Greek, he 
began reciting, "My dearest love," 
to the immense amusement of the 
class. But he got it at last; and, 
when he rehearsed it to Miss Mayton, 
she said she was glad that she was 
sick. He was driven to the hall, and, 



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173 



Aoagb the cliange caused some sur- 
prise, everybody was too busy with his 
own interests to make any objection ; 
and the play was soon ready to begin. 

When people come together with 
the firm intention of being pleased, 
it must be a most wretched per- 
formance that does not please them. 
There was an expectant smile on the 
&C6 of this particular audience, which 
was very encouraging to the per- 
formers, peeping out through chinks 
in the curtain and scenery. Group 
after group were shown to their 
places by the most unexceptionable 
oi ushers, wafting incense about 
their victims from fat little hot-house 
bouqaets (furnished by the club). 
Vernon, already dressed for his part, 
was sitting by a very convenient hole 
in the panelling, by the curtain, 
making comments on the audience; 
which would have surprised some of 
them if they had seen the figure that 
ottered them. Presently he asked, 
"Who is that fellow with a lady 
on his arm, and an engaging smile 
on his face ? '' And somebody said 
Uiat it was Mr. Adolphus Arden with 
his sister. 

Mr. Arden proceeded slowly to his 
place, adorning his features with a 
well-bred smile of languid surprise 
designed to be a sort of apology for 
wasting his time on any thing ama- 
teur. Edith was detained an instant . 
by her friend Bessie, who said, " Tell 
Adolphus to watch Miss Mayton's 
acting." And her brother, waiting by 
her seat, cast his eyes calmly about the 
hall ; so that several ladies were quite 
impressed, and whispered, " What a 
gentlemanly looking fellow ! " 

It was not long before the bell 
tinkled ; . and a hush of expectation ' 
passed over the audience. The cur- 
tain rose upon a kitchen-scene, where 
the three servant-girls were at work 



together. Each had determined to 
be first on the stage ; and the author 
had to bring them on in force. They 
talked freely in the manner of the 
professional servant, and so naturally, 
that nothing short of the reality 
could have been more humdrum. 
However, it was enough to look at 
three such' blooming maids, with their 
fresh gowns and charming little 
French boots; and how could any- 
body find fault with the scene, when 
there was a real cooking-stove with a 
real fire in it, and a wash-tub, into 
which one of the three gracefully 
plunged her snowy arms ? And each 
of them, when she went out for a 
moment by the back-entrance, swung 
to the right-about in a way that 
would have transfixed her respectable 
parents with afstonishment, if done at 
home, and brought down the house. 

With frequent interruptions for the 
sake of bringing in the louts and 
some heavy aunts and other minor 
characters, one of the maids managed 
to tell the others what she knew about 
her young mistress's love-affair. The 
young lady (an heiress, by the way) 
was closely kept by her crabbed uncle, 
who wanted her to marry a man who 
owed him money ; while her affections 
were forever fixed on one Harold 
Stuart, who, in the variety of his 
accomplishments, and in the display 
of a grinding melancholy, left noth- 
ing for the heart to desire. A plan 
of elopement had been fixed upon, at 
which the servants were to connive. 
At this announcement one of them 
put on an expression of deadly treach- 
ery, perceptible to everybody in the 
hall — except her two companions. 
The others presently going out, she 
came to the front, and, in an awful 
soliloquy, declared her love for Har- 
old, and her intention to betray the 
lovers to their doom. As she stood 



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A Hopeless Attachment. 



shaking her dainty fist, the drop fell 
amid considerable applause, even Mr. 
Arden kindly patting his gloves to- 
gether. 

The next scene revealed the uncle 
— with a dropsical figure, strongly 
suggestive of pillow — sitting at his 
breakfast, growling ; while the maids, 
still in full force, skirmished in and out. 
After breaking the inevitable plate, 
and sending the dishes away, be pro- 
ceeds to work himself into a passion 
about his niece, and leveals in a loud 
soliloquy the reasons for his intended 
disposal of her. Just as the audience 
are getting tired of the realism of the 
old gentleman, Leonora glides in with 
a love of a morning-dress, and says 
coldly, " You sent foivme." 

As she spoke the first words, there 
was a rustle of surprise among those 
who knew the players. Who was 
there in the club with such a rich 
tontralto voice ? That girl with the 
Greek fac6, and waving, golden hair, 
with long eyebrows and heavenly 
blue eyes — who was there capable 
of being transformed by any stage 
art into such a creature as that ? 
They gazed with increasing surprise ; 
and those who knew nothing of the 
change were no less held by her act- 
ing. It is strange how one good 
actor can cast a veil of reality over 
the barest plot, and even light up the 
other performers with a glimmer ot 
his own excellence. Leonora had not 
been on five minutes before the audi- 
ence began to feel for her deeply, and 
to detest the old gentleman as if he 
were their own guardian. When she 
had a scene with her uncle's choice, 
everybody rejoiced in his defeat and 
abject retreat ; when her only lady- 
friend came in and condoled with 
her, there were not a few who wept 
at the story of her wrongs ; and, the 
treacherous servant appearing at ther 



rear with a horrible smile, it became 
almost insupportable. 

Then Harold, having mysteriously 
gained access to the room, appeared ; 
and when she fied to his arms, and 
laid her head on his shoulder with a 
splendid abandon^ even Mr. Arden 
shouted, " Brava ! '' While they ma- 
ture their plans, a lout comes in to 
build a fire, and slips out again. 
Then uncle and aunts and servants 
pour in ; and an agonizing scene fol- 
lows, in which Harold is threatened 
with terrible penalties if he persists in 
his attentions. He departs in scorn- 
ful silence, while all stand back from 
the majestic melancholy of his face. 

Then there was a tavern-scene in- 
troducing a stranger with a deeply- 
mysterious face and manner, and ^so 
the rejected lover, who boasts of his 
revenge, and is promptly put under 
the pump by a farmer, who proves to 
be Harold. * 

Then came the garden-scene, which 
was quite a triumph of scenic art. A 
villa stood at the rear ; and there was 
a fountain playing in a lovely ex- 
panse of green carpet. The trees, all 
trimmed to a beautiful symmetry, 
were silent as in the hush of the 
night-wind ; and the fair, round moon 
appeared in the background, though 
it did not seem to have much to do 
with lighting the place. 

After a sonorous serenade, Harold 
appeared before the house, which, 
though it had seemed quite majestic 
by itself, suddenly dwindled by the 
comparison. Then a diminutive win- 
dow opened ; and Leonora, putting put 
her head (like a very pretty jack-iu- 
the-box), said despairingly, "No, it 
can never be I " Harold persuading 
her that it could be, she presently 
appeared at the back-entrance. Then, 
as they clasp each other at the thought 
of freedom, a party, led by the treach- 



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erons servant, come on at the middle, 
and search in the dark for the fugi- 
tiires; the uncle falling down, and 
making himself generally ridiculous. 
Somebody brings a lantern, and dis- 
covers the pair, who have been flitting 
about in search of some way of escape. 
A tableau is formed. The uncle is in- 
exorable; and a secret dagger has 
already been drawn, when the mys- 
terious stranger appears, and an- 
nounces himself as the long-lost 
father of Leonora, shipwrecked on a 
desert island. He stops the pro- 
ceedings, and, discovering that Har- 
old's father had once lent him five 
dollars in a time of need, declares 
that Leonora shall be his, and bestows 
her on him with much feeling, when 
they re-embrace clingingly. Then the 
rejected suitor suddenly finds, that, 
after all, he prefers his old love, the 
intimate friend, who happens to be 
present; and they embrace. Then 
the uncle declares that he is a weak 
old man, who tried to do for the. best, 
and is instantly forgiven. The faith- 
less servant-girl, coming forward with 
tears of repentance, is rewarded, to 
the agreeable surprise of the audience, 
with the hand of the old gentleman. 
The other two maids took the hands 
of their respective louts; the aunts 
and cousins grouped behind ; the fa- 
ther raised his hands in blessing; and 
the curtain fell amid wild applause. 

The audience was quite carried 
away by Leonora's acting, and per- 
sisted in calling her out at the close. 
As for Mr. Arden, he had long since 
forgotten to smile, and kept his eyes 
fixed on the heroine all the time that 
she was on the stage. Once he fan- 
cied that she looked at him and smiled ; 
and when he cried " Brava " he was 
sure of it. When she clung to Har- 
old, be felt a singular relief in think- 
ing that it was all acting. As she 



came before the curtain, and bowed, 
l^e rose and clapped, regardless of his 
gloves ; and, taking out the little clus- 
ter of rosebuds from his button-hole, 
he tossed it to her. She stooped, and 
raised them to her lips with a bow 
and a smile that was unmistakable in 
its direction. 

A moment afterward she had dis- 
appeared, and all was over. Mr. Ar- 
den and his sister hurried out to find 
their carriage, and heard only mur- 
murs of delight and praise from every 
side. Eliding homewards, Edith asked 
her brother what- he thought of Alice 
Mayton. 

" It's my opinion that she's a sta- 
ver," said Adolphus solemnly. 

" I don't like her showing so much 
attention to your rosebuds." 

Adolphus said nothing, but thought 
that there was no reason why a girl 
should not express her Appreciation 
of what she saw in his face. 

When they got home, he went up 
to his room and lit a cigar. He sat 
by the window, looking out across the 
river to the hills beyond, lying quiet 
and cold in the moonlight. He gazed 
up at the cloudy sky, and watched the 
dusky, spectral shapes, as he had not 
watched them since he was a little 
boy. Years of selfish habits had 
dulled his sensibilities; but now he 
felt a strange flood of romantic feeling, 
which made him half ashamed. He 
could not banish the thought of the 
face and form which had impressed him 
so that night ; and they were somehow 
woven in with every lovely shape 
that took form and faded under the 
magic light. 

He was too used to thinking about 
himself not to know that he was 
already desperately in love with the 
Leonora of the play. He was not a 
bad fellow at heart ; and it was more 
the result of a narrow convention- 



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A Hopeless Attachment. 



ality than of his* own character, that 
he had grown to be so selfish. He 
looked back on bis life ; and a feeling 
came over him that he had been 
strangely blind to the smallness of 
its ambitions and its pleasures; and 
he thought, that, if he had such an 
object as the possession of Leonora, 
he would throw off his mask of care- 
lessness, and try to be worthy of her. 

When he awoke the next morning, 
he did not feel quite so romantic ; but 
his interest in the last evening's per- 
formance was not at all abated. At 
breakfast he asked several questions 
about the Mayton family, — their so- 
cial standing and pecuniary prospects ; 
and he went down to the office, and 
ground over his law-books in a way 
that attracted his uncle's attention, 
and made him thint that there might 
be something in the fellow, after alL 
He was determined to see his en- 
chantress again, and felt that worlds 
could not long keep him away from 
her ; and when Edith, a day or two 
afterward, handed him an invitation 
to a party at which Miss Mayton was 
expected to be present, he felt that 
the Fates were conspiring to bring him 
to his love. 

He dressed for the party with un- 
usual care ; and, standing before his 
glass, he tried a thrilling smile of 
adoration. But something seemed to 
have opened his eyes ; and he turned 
away, for once, disgusted with himself 
and determined to smile no more that 
evening. 

The Fates did seem to conspire to 
prevent his learning of his mistake 
before the crisis came. ^ It was almost 
incredible that nobody should have 
spoken of the change of actresses; 
but nobody did: and, after greeting 
the hostess, he looked eagerly about 
for Leonora. 

While he stood peering about in a 



way that would have given keen en- 
joyment to his old self to see, his sis- 
ter came up, and said she would in- 
troduce him to Miss Mayton. He 
thought she had an odd look, as if she 
were playing some joke on him ; but 
he took little notice of it, for Edith 
was not a joker, and followed her 
quickly across the room ta a group of 
people who were discussing the the- 
atricals. He heard his sister pro- 
nounce* the words of presentation, and 
saw a dark-haired young lady bowing 
to himself. He felt that there was 
some strange mistake ; but his pres- 
ence of mind did not forsake him, and 
he dashed wildly into small-talk. 
Fortunately it does not require a great 
exercise of intellect to begin a party 
conversation ; and he talked airy noth- 
ings while he pondered confusedly on 
the meaning of the affair. He knew 
that it could not have been his com- 
panion who iEu^ted that part ; and at 
length summoned courage to ask, in 
an indifferent tone, who it was that 
had personated Leonora. She laughed, 
and said she would show him. Pass- 
ing through some of the rooms, they 
found a lady and gentleman looking 
at pictures in the library. 

" Mr. Vernon," said she, " Mr. Ar- 
den wants to see the heroine of 
*Why.'" 

Frank looked up brightly, and held 
out his hand in recognition of the in- 
troduction. Adolphus had the readi- 
ness to take it ; and, as he looked at 
him, the whole thing came over him 
like a nightmare. Imagine the feel- 
ings of a lover who finds that the 
adored one can never be his, and add 
to that discovery the sudden and as- 
toimding revelation that she never 
existed at all ; and some feeble idea 
may be gained of the chaotic state of 
Adolphus's mind. His head swam; 
something rose into his throat ; and 



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, the earth seemed to yawn beneath 
him, as is its vulgar and unfeeling 
habit on occasions of great trial 
to men. His ideas were too much 
confused at the time to recog- 
nize these symptoms ; but, as they are 
always present in cases of disappoint- 
ed lore, he must have felt them. He 
managed to stammer out a few con- 
gratulations on Frank's acting, and 
then passed on with Miss Mayton 
still on his arm. His heart, thus 
rudely deprived of its idol, instinc- 
tirely sought another to fill its place ; 
and he looked at his companion, 
though with an odd fear that perhaps 
ahe might turn out to be a man too, 
to see if she could occupy the vacant 
shrine. 

Now, Miss Mayton had level black 
brows, and a lovely oval face, and the 
dearest little retrousse nose in the 
world, — a nose that in its piquancy 
was worth all the straight noses since 
Eve's. But the classic features of 
Leonora had left an impression on 
the heart of Adolphus which nothing 
short of them could satisfy. He 
talked with conscious stupidity for a 
littie time ; then his companion was 
taken off his hands, and he sought his 
sister. 

" Isn't it absurd ! " said she. 

" What ? " 

"Why, our being so completely 
taken in about Mr. Vernon." 

"I'm afraid it is." 

"They say that he is as good as 
engaged to Miss Mayton." 

This information seemed to him to 
be the very last straw. Leonora 
seemed to become, if possible, less of a 
reality than before. He called the 
carriage ; and they were soon on their 
way home. 

His position was ridiculous enough, 
to be sure : but the absurd and the 
pathetic are sometimes so interwoven. 



that it is hard to distinguish them; 
and his blighted affection certainly 
had many of the elements that make 
disappointed love pathetic. He had 
fallen in love with an ideal, which he 
supposed to have been realized by 
Leonora; and he found not merely 
that his passion could never be re- 
turned, and was quite in vain, but 
that the being whom he had idealized 
was a pure fiction. There is a story 
of a microscopist who fell in love with 
the nymph who lived in a drop of 
water. His love was certainly not 
more utterly hopeless than that of 
Adolphus. He had not even the slen- 
der satisfaction of including himself 
in the numbers of those whom Some 
mysterious dispensation has caused to 
love at cross-purposes, and of saying 
" Such is life; " for this was something 
quite exceptional. He had told no- 
body of his infatuation, and so was 
saved from any mortification that 
might have arisen from that source ; 
but he felt quite as uncomfortable as 
possible when he realized how nearly 
he had betrayed himself. He looked 
out of his window again at the moon- 
light with a smile of quiet despair, 
then checked himself with a "Pshaw," 
pulled down the curtain, and went to 
bed. 

In the morning he thought it all 
over, and could not help seeing the 
humorous side of the affair. The case 
was so bad, that he had not even the 
lover's last refuge of harrowing the 
cold bosom of his mistress. It was 
evidently useless to immolate himself 
on the altar of his affections to re- 
venge himself on a fiction of his own 
brain. Having fallen in love with 
nobody, he was to love and be loved 
by nobody all his life, — a highly ar- 
tistic and appropriate ending to his 
little romance. But after all, when a 
thing is absolutely hopeless, there is 



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Republics m the Old World. 



an end of it ; and there is nothing to 
do but to throw up knd tsdce a fresh 
deaL Hope often keeps grief alive ; 
and, if there were not so few situations 
quite hopeless, there would be more 
who could avail themselves of this 
philosophy. We cannot always even 
be romantically miserable when we 
want to ; and so Adolphus found. 

Coming down to breakfast out of 
humor, as he declared, with himself 
and the universe, he found Edith, who 
tried to enliven him with bits of gossip 
about the people whom they had met. 

"They say that Mr. Vernon, the 
other night, looked just like his sister 
Fanny," said she. 

" lias he got a sister ? " cried Adol- 
phus. " Is she in town ? " 

'' Yes, and no. But she will be in 
a few days." 



" Is she engaged ? ^ 

" No." 

" Then it's my opinion that I shall 
marry her," said Adolphus ; and he 
started fer the office, leaving Edith in 
great astonishment. But she said, 
not long after, that she really believed 
he would, and she was sure she hoped 
Fanny would make something out of 
him. 

The courtship must have had some 
original features. One can't help 
wondering what he told her when she 
came to those questions in the Lovers' 
Catechism, " Have you ever loved any 
one before me?" and "How came 
you to fall in love with me ? " — those 
questions which have been the cause 
of so much tender fiction. Per- 
haps he answered with an enigmatic 
smile. 



REPUBLICS IK THE OLD WORLD. 



BY NATHAN APPLBTON. 



The American citizen who chooses 
Europe as his temporary place of abode 
cannot fail to be struck with the fact 
that he is not, generally speaking, 
popular with the natives of the dif- 
ferent countries there. The persons 
whom he meets appear, on the surface, 
to be glad enough to welcome him, 
are happy to enter with him into 
any business relations by which they 
expect to get a profitable return, and 
will be officiously over-polite in many 
of the trivial occurrences of daily life ; 
but only let him go beyond all this, let 
him really try to penetrate the crust, 
and identify himself with the society 
below, he will find, that, unless he 
toadies to its tastes and customs in a 
way repulsive to his own instincts, the 
reception is far from agreeable. The 
longer he remains there, and the more 



he makes the trial, the more thorough- 
ly will he be convinced of this. Al- 
tiiough, at first thought, this seems 
somewhat strange and unaccountable, 
a little reflection will show that it is 
not so. 

Americans in Europe are general- 
ly persons, if not of wealth, at least 
in comfortable circumstances ; and so, 
quite naturally, the Europeans with 
whom they are mostly thrown in con- 
tact are those in a similar condition, 
— those belonging to the upper classes, 
the aristocrats. They meet represen- 
tatives of those, who, privileged by 
caste, wealth, and education, have for 
centuries in Europe held the power of 
government and of the press ; yes, and 
still hold it It is the fear of losing 
this, it may almost be called heredi- 
tary power, which ibakes them suspi- 



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cioua of Americans. They know well 
enough, that if the principles of life 
and government which have made the 
United States a success — the princi- 
ples of the nobility of labor, education, 
and freedom — should be transplanted 
into Europe, and put in operation theroi 
their own position would be different 
indeed. They see, that, if the masses 
of their countrymen can really find out 
wbat America is and means, they 
cannot be prevented from coming for- 
ward to compete with them for the first 
places; and it is just this competition 
they do not want, and will do all in 
their power to put off. It is not to be 
wondered at that their present easy- 
going monopoly suits them better, and 
that the fear of losing it is ever before 
them like a spectre. And so every 
citizen of the United States who goes 
abroad as an independent but unac- 
credited representative of our insti- 
tutions, and a living proof of the result; 
who dashes along from London to 
Naples, from St. Petersburg to Madrid , 
with eyes and ears wide open, compar- 
ing notes, and ready to express his 
opinions frankly to any one he meets, 
— is looked upon by them with distrust. 
As he talks of the great future of his 
own land, of how it is open to all of 
any race, class, or creed, to come there 
and seek their fortunes, take part in 
the government, and probably be 
exempt from all involuntary military 
aervice, he is regarded as the dissemi- 
nator of doctrines which they do not 
want to have preached. 

Americans have, while in Europe, 
but little opportunity of being brought 
into direct contact with those of the 
lower classes there ; but, notwithstand- 
ing this, their presence is felt by them, 
and their value appreciated. News 
from those who have gone to the 
" States " ( that land of promise ), their 
prosperity in their new home, their 



desire for others to come and share it, 
is eagerly discussed in the crowded 
by-streets of the city, at the peasant's 
fireside, and in the ranks of the army ; 
and how great the temptation is to fol- 
low the lead, and how many yield to 
it, cannot be more forcibly shown than 
by the plain statistics of the number 
of emigrants who yearly are landed 
on our shores. At certain seasons of 
the year, there are scarcely vessels 
enough to transport them, in spite of, 
nay, perhaps partly on accoiint of, the 
stringent measures taken in some 
countries to prevent this drain of the 
inhabitants. 

But, to counteract this strong 
American influence in Europe, there 
is a powerful weapon, and, of a 
truth, it is skilfully wielded ; and that 
weapon is ridicule. The attempt is 
made to show up in every way the poor 
Yankees as a laughing-stock, as can 
be judged from the press, literature, 
and theatres of the Old World. Their 
greed for money-making, their eccen- 
tricities in dress and customs, their 
ignorance of foreign languages, their 
supposed fondness for bowie-knives and 
revolvers, and many other peculiari- 
ties which the American has never 
especially noticed at home, are put be- 
fore the public, and exaggerated often 
with great cleverness. Now and then, 
from political reasons or diplomatic 
complications, a nation in Europe will 
affect a tremendous apparent friend- 
ship for the United States, expecting 
from this to derive great advantage for 
itself; and, while this quasi alliance 
lasts, Americans and their institutions 
will be lauded to the skies. But these 
cases are exceptional, and, when they 
occur, can be easily seen through, 
and treated accordingly. No veteran 
statesman should be deceived by thera. 

It is evident that this playing with 
the question, this half shutting the 



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BepubUcB in the Old World. 



eyes against facts, this tacit admission 
on the part of Europeans that they 
are incapable of fairly facing the situa- 
tion, and solving the problem of what 
to do, will not avail them much longer. 
The tendency of the times is steadily 
in favor of republican institutions ; 
and, albeit with many a retrograde 
movement, the forward march bravely 
continues. It is not the purpose here 
to oflTer Europeans any advice on the 
subject, but simply to make some sug- 
gestions to those Americans who hon- 
estly believe in self-government, who 
do not consider education and freedom 
dangerous for the masses, and who 
think; in all sincerity, that the hope 
of generations yet unborn is hanging 
upon the success or failure of our 
great experiment. For now it is safe 
to say that the American Republic is 
everywhere regarded as one of the 
most powerful and prosperous nations 
in the world. It has passed its time 
of probation ; and its well-earned posi- 
tion is universally acknowledged. It 
can pause and philosophically think 
out why this is so, and advantageously 
make comparisons between its own con- 
dition and that of other great nations. 
At the present time * there are three 
important republics in Europe — Swit- 
zerland, France, and Spain — in actual 
working existence ; while several other 
countries are surely inclining towards 
that form of government. Is this 
well ? and should it be encouraged, or 
suppressed ? It is a trite saying that 
the success of the American Republic 
is owing to the fact of the great Ex- 
tent of the country, giving all elbow- 
room to work without crowding each 
other, thereby preventing vexatious 
social questions from rising to the sur- 
face ; and also because there has never 
been any other real form of govern- 
ment there, leaving its traces behind, 

1 March, ISTS. 



which must, but cannot be, obliterated 
for the new order of things ; and 
following this, that, the case being en- 
tirely different in Europe, republics 
are, and will be for a long while, im- 
possible, and are not to be thought o£ 
But this will not satisfy the deep- 
thinking student of history, and phi- 
lanthropist whose sympathies are 
with the masses, as being persons for 
whom good government is much more 
important than for those of the upper 
classes, who are better able to look 
out for themselves. He is persuaded 
that there must be something of good 
in the institutions themselves; and 
he does not see why this good cannot, 
with modifications, be transferred back 
across the Atlantic, and ingrafted 
upon the old stock there. 

Again : he hears it constantly urged 
that nothing shows the folly and im- 
practicability of attempting to estab- 
lish republics in the Old World more 
convincingly than the disturbances 
and revolutions which generally attend 
their rise and fall. But he must not 
forget that the life of empires and 
monarchies does not always flow along 
on golden sands. There are many 
bloody emeutes in their history which 
are, it is true, more easily put down, 
and their publicity prevented; but 
they do occur all the same. Great 
changes in the fundamental principles 
of a nation's government cannot be 
brought about without waves on the 
surface, and displacement of the strong 
currents below. There is the pres- 
sure, perhaps not enough estimated, 
which the rulers of the surrounding 
countries bring to bear against the 
one in the transition state. There is 
the weighty opposition of those who 
have held the reins of government in 
the country itself for the past, and 
who will offer every resistance sooner 
than lose it. There is the ignorance 



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of just what to do most wisely, that 
the new-comers experience in chan - 
ging allthe machinery to the new or- 
der; the distrust of employes, the fear of 
the army, and the excitement of the 
populace. Other side-issues, mainly 
depending upon the old, old struggle 
between capital and labor, which no 
mortal has yet been able satisfactorily 
to grapple with, are sure to make a 
dangerous appearance in such times. 
That scenes of violence, nay, even the 
horrors of a Commune, occur then, is 
"by no means astonishing, but need 
not discourage the believer in progress. 
"The frenzy of nations is the 
statesmanship of fate," said Bulwer ; 
and true enough this saying is : and 
it can be added, that the education of 
individuals is the safeguard of com- 
munities; and certainly the demand 
for education should be surer in re- 
publics than in any other form of go- 
vernment. Let the people know that 
they are to have a voice in choosing 
those who make their lavrs, and govern 
them; let them see that this is ajpri- 
vilege and Siresponsibility ; point out to 
then^ that it is their duti/ to become 
worthy citizens, — and they may rea- 
sonably be expected in time to fit them- 
selves for this, and do what is required 
of them. Show them the prizes which 
education puts in their reach, — the 
prizes of comfortable living, and the 
respect of those about them, to say 
nothing of having their names enrolled 
in the book of fame ; and they will try 
to win them, and in so doing become 
more valuable to their own country 
and the world than if they are per- 
petually treated as children, given to 
understand that blind obedience to 
their superiors is their only aim in life, 
and that they ought to be thankful 
for the little that is given them, and 
ask no questions about it. 
Our people, who are holding the 



American Republic as it were in trust, 
— a glorious trust given to our jealous 
keeping, — should consider seriously 
the importance of watching the flame 
of republicanism now so well lighted 
in Europe. The jspark has been there 
for centuries, never entirely going out, 
sometimes bursting into a temporary 
blaze, always alive. Then let it be 
zealously cared for ; for, if once fairly 
extinguished, it may take ages to re- 
kindle it. May we not, then, as we 
see new republics come into exist- 
ence, if to last only for a time, be 
pardoned in giving them a cheer of 
sympathy and encouragement ? They 
want it ; they have a right to expect 
it; it is of the greatest value to them, 
both in its effect upon their own peo- 
ple, and the silent influence it exerts 
upon Surroimding natfons. They fair- 
ly encounter opposition from aristo- 
cratic governments; but to see the 
young republic of the United States 
lukewarm at their efforts is indeed 
doubly discouraging. 

Let, then, the true-hearted Ameri- 
can, as he travels in Europe, not be 
too much delighted at the over-refine- 
ments of life he sees there among the 
privileged classes,or be carried away by 
the attentions of courts and camps, 
or pay too much heed to what the 
exponents of these institutions will 
tell him, and sigh to have the same 
surroundings in his own land ; for he 
must know that this apparent state 
of happiness and order is brought 
about by sacrificing the interests of 
the many to those of the few. If he 
believes that his own country is 7iot a 
mistake, that the principles which 
are its foundation-stones are the best 
that have yet been put in practice 
anywhere in the world's long history, 
let him manfully and unostentatiously 
show this by his action and his lanr 
guage, wherever he goes. 



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On Duty. 



ON DUTY. 

BT LUCBETIA P. H-AXB. 



'* Why, Cornelius, are you working 
still ? " asked a fresh, cordial voice. 

"Come in, Eleanor!" answered a 
young man from the recess of the win- 
dow, — " come in and talk with the old 
mother a while. I have only a few 
more strokes to make to finish up this 
plate, and I must use the daylight 
while it lasts ; and then I want to go 
to walk with you. My sun does not 
set so soon as yours, thanks to the gap 
in the roofs of those opposite houses ! 
and my day's work is not yet done." 

Cornelius was busy over the engrav- 
ing of some fine lithographic plates ; 
and his table was placed in the plat- 
form of an attic-window, where he 
could secure the daylight from sunrise 
fb sunset. 

He and his old grandmother lived 
in these attic-rooms, at the top of a 
closely-packed house in a narrow 
street of the thickly-inhabited part 
of the city. 

Eleanor and Cornelius were to have . 
been married this summer: indeed, 
they miglit have been married long 
ago ; but Eleanor was one of those who 
are slow to think they have any rigbt 
to take their own happiness in their 
hand. Ever since her sister-in-law's 
death, she had kept house for her broth- 
er in his rooms below, in this very build- 
ing. Whenever there had been any 
talk of her marriage, her brother An- 
drew had brought forward his claims. 
How could she forsake them all when 
ho was forced to be off at his day's 
work the whole day, from morning till 
night, and little Nell not old enough 
to be left, and Jack with a white-swell- 
ing on his knee, and the rest of the 
children to be got off every day to 



their schools ! And Eleanor thought 
that she and Cornelius could wait, es- 
pecially as they could see each other 
every day, and she could still have an 
eye upon the old grandmother when 
Cornelius had to leave her ; and per- 
haps it was selfish of her to think 
of forsaking the children. Andrew 
would never marry again (he ha4 
buried his heart with Mary when she 
died) ; but by and by the children 
would be older, and could take care of 
him, and then she and Cornelius would 
marry. 

And it had come about that the two 
helpless ones of her brother's family 
were able to take care of each other. 
Little Nell could amuse and entertain 
Jack in the long, wearisome days ; and 
Jack liked the occupation of taking 
care of her ; and the oldest girl had 
begun to go out with her Aunt Eleanor 
every day as seamstress ; and the rest 
could fit themselves off for school. 

But it was this very spring that the 
guns at Charleston had fired upon 
Fort Sumter : and it was not quite the 
time to think of marriage ; for Corne- 
lius in a few weeks was to go off with 
his regiment. 

" If I were only his wife now," 
Eleanor wouM think, " how much ea- 
sier it would be to care for Cornelius ! 
I might have a right to go on to New 
York at the same time with the regi- 
ment. I might visit him in camp; 
and then, — oh I then if he were sick 
or wounded, I could go to him ; but 
anyhow I might do that." 

Here, again, Andrew's influence came 
in. He was in trouble ; he had been 
sick, and had lost work ; and his old- 
est boy had gone oft^ without warning, 



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and under age^ to join the army ; and 
Andrew wanted money for him and 
&r liimself ; and Eleanor's earnings 
were needed, as they often had been be- 
fore, for her brother and for his family. 
It would never do for Eleanor to be 
married now. She must wait till Cor- 
nelius came back : she could take care 
of the old grandmother all the same, 
fts she had promised to do during Cor- 
nelius's absence. 

For nobody ever doubted what 
Eleanor could do for herself or any- 
body else. She had the splendid c^ 
pacity that perfect physical health can 
give. She ate well, and slept well, 
and got up early ; was never tired; and 
was always fresh through the day. 

Many people ^oke of this capacity 
as a happy natural gift that she had, 
that accounted for her accomplishing 
what she did. " Oh I Eleanor is al- 
ways good-natured, because she sleeps 
80 well, and has such a good appetite." 
There were not many that noticed 
that this capacity they called her na- 
ture resulted from her religion. 

The children adored her. Some 
of them were growing old enough to 
see that the most generous way of 
showing their adoration was not in 
making fresh demands upon her, but in 
helping her from work. It was the 
invalid boy, perhaps, who came first 
to this appreciation. Aunt Eleanor's 
rubbing and Aunt Eleanor's stories 
were the happy gleams in his day's life ; 
yet her own self-sacrifice had taught 
him to declare that he could get along 
very well with little Nell's nursing, 
and that to read a book stuck up in 
the^ack before him was almost as good 
as to have a story told when he was 
in pain. 

But the greater part of the world 
made constant, fresh demands upon 
Eleanor's goodness from the fact that 
she gave so easily. The dressmaker 



who employed her every day sent 
always to her any choice extra work, 
as she was sure Eleanor would not 
fail to help her out of a strait. The 
charitable committee of ladies, who 
took an oversight over that crowded 
part of the town, always came to her 
to sit with a sick child, or remonstrate 
with a drunken father. " You are so 
near," they would say to her ; " and 
then you know exactly what to say." 
When she came home at night, 
there was always somebody waiting 
on the stairs that wanted to talk with 
her ; there was a wedding or a funeral 
to be prepared for; somebody just 
come home, or going away, to be seen 
to. At table she must spread little 
Nell's bread, because nobody could 
put on just the right quantity of but- 
ter but she ; and only Eleanor could 
pour out Andrew's cup of tea. 

Eleanor is standing on the thresh-, 
old of the door all the time I fun 
making this description of her. But, 
if you had seen her, not a word of it 
would have been necessary. There 
was a beauty of health in her face, 
and of heart in her expression, that 
painted to you exactly what she was ; 
that showed at a glance that she was 
loving, helpful, and strong. As she 
came in, she spread a bit of sunshine 
across to the comer where Cornelius 
was at work, and that warmed up the 
"old mother," cowering up by the 
fire. 

"Cornelius is going to the war," 
said the old woman, looking up to 
Eleanor from her knitting. The 
grandmother lived in a misty region 
betw^n the past and the present. 
She heard the talk of soldiers and 
fighting; and it brought back the 
stories of her youth, — her mother's 
stories of the days of the Revolution. 
" My mother was one of those who 
went out on the Common with her 



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On Dviy. 



spinning-wheel. They spun the wool 
for cloth for the regimentals. What 
became of the spinning-wheel, I don't 
know. Cornelius has promised to look 
it up. But I have got some stockings 
for him ; and I can keep on knitting 
and knitting if I can't do any thing 
else. They do say somebody saw 
Red-coats over the hill at Newbury- 
port; but I believe it was nothing 
but Granny Marchant's cloak." 

Eleanor sat down to listen \xi the 
old woman's talk. But presently Cor- 
nelius was through with his work ; 
and Jeanie, Eleanor's niece, came up 
to take her place in talking ; and she 
went out with Cornelius for a long 
walk, up through the narrow, crowded 
streets, into a green place, where they 
could sit down under the trees, and 
see a bit of the sky, and hear the 
drip of the fountain. This was the 
treat they gave themselves now and 
then, when they felt they had earned 
a right to leisure. 

** Did you notice that carriage, Cor- 
nelius, as we came into the Com- 
mon ? " said Eleanor. " I can't tell 
you the name of the lady that sat in 
it; but I am intimately acquainted 
with her silk dress, and helped her 
try it on the other day, and I do be- 
lieve I have enjoyed the making it 
more than ever she will care for wear- 
ing it. I like the touch of the silk 
and its exquisite color. I liked to see 
it upon her to-day, it suited her so 
well, and seemed to be a part of her 
own beauty." 

" You have not a bit of envy, Elea- 
nor," said Cornelius. 

'* I am afraid sometimes I am too 
vain or proud to be envious," laughed 
Eleanor. " When I see these hand- 
some silks that I shall never be rich 
enough to wear, I think I am happier 
to be working upon them than to put 
them on once or twice, and then lay 



them aside. May be I should not like 
them. I like what I have and earn 
and own, — if only I could hold it." 
Eleanor had begun to talk in her own 
cheerful way ; but she found herself 
breaking down. 

" I believe I have been always too 
confident in myself," she went on. *' I 
used to feel I could easily make my 
own happiness, and could make other 
people happy; but, Cornelius, what 
can we do with a parting, a separa- 
tion I " 

Cornelius did not speak for a little 
while. 

"Do you remember," he said at 
last, "the story we read aloud last 
winter, — « the Fair Maid of Perth " ? 
I have been thinking lately of the 
Highlander Eachin, and how, chieftain 
of noble blood as he was, he turned a 
coward at the last." 

"Well," said Eleanor a little im- 
patiently, " what about him ? " 

"I have been wondering," said 
Cornelius, " what right I have to think 
myself a soldier. Instead of teach- 
ing myself any thing manly all my 
life, I have been bending over mere 
lithographing work. What am I sup- 
posed to know about courage or hero- 
ism ? Look at these thin hands! are 
they fit for any thing like a grasp or 
bloody grappling ? What should you 
say, if I, your hero, came to such an 
end as Eachin's, and turned back in 
the fight?" 

Eleanor looked at him anxiously. 
" Cornelius, you have been dreaming 
lately. I have let you be alone too 
much, with only the grandmother's 
mutterings \o listen to. Corneftus, 
all along it has been so my joy and 
pleasure to strengthen you, that I 
forgot it was my duty ; and so, wrong- 
ly, I have taken up what seemed to 
be my duty instead. Now you are 
going away, I begin to see it is not 



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always sacrifice that mast come first, 
bat love." 

Cornelius looked away ; and a bitter 
smile staid upon bis face. 

Eleanor grew more disturbed. Sbe 
pat her hand upon his sboulder, and 
tamed her face up to his. 

" You are not thinking of staying 
behind, Cornelius, — of not going 
with the army ! " 

"And what would you think ot 
it?" said Cornelius, still refusing to 
look at her. " Are you so heroic you 
would send me, rather than have me 
stay?" 

"Don't try me, Cornelius," said 
Eleanor. " You know we think alike 
in this. You would not wish to offer 
me so poor a gift as a life you would 
not give your country." 

"But if my life is too poor to give 
my country," said Cornelius. " I think, 
Eleanor, it is you have given me all 
the heroism I have." 

"I, Cornelius! I never urged your 
becoming a soldier. I never needed 
to urge." 

"No, no!" said Cornelius quickly, 
and taking both her hands. " As you 
say, we always thought alike x)f these 
things. And for one I can be thank- 
ful for the war ; that it has taught 
OS all what patriotism is; what the 
words, * my country ' mean. Only for 
some, I fear, the lesson comes too late. 
We have been working for our greed, 
or for our own separate homes, not 
all together for all. So, when the 
trumpet-sound comes for the fight, 
perhaps we shall shrink; self and 
home will stand before us dearer than 
our self-sacrifice ; and perhaps we 
shall fail." 

"No," said Eleanor starting up, '^ I 
know we shall not fail ; and then I 
know you cannot. You have not 
fought in vain against poverty and 
want, loneliness and sorrow. I think 



there is no combat fiercer than that 
you have already been victor in. And 
this very self-distrust that tortures 
you I know will bring the self-forget- 
ful ness that gives confidence in bat- 
tle." 

CHAPTER n. 

The weeks go fast. The parting 
was soon over; and the summer of 
anxiety had followed. Cornelius's old 
grandmother had died not long after 
• he had left her; and Eleanof had 
given her all the care of a daughter. 
With the autumn came more sick- 
ness, and Eleanor was busy; for a 
fever had come into the house, and 
she was called upon as nurse, first for 
one, and then another. At last the 
sickness came into their own family. 
One and then atiother was attacked ; 
and so, after she was overworked 
and exhausted with all her nursing, 
Eleanor's own turn came. 

The blow was accompanied by 
another. 

There came the news that Cornelius 
had been killed. "Shot on picket- 
duty," was the first short message. 

Eleanor repeated it to herself as 
she tossed in the half delirium of 
fever : " ' On picket-duty, — on duty,^ 
Yes, that was right ; that was the way 
he would have died. No failure, 
then! It is the life-sacrifice for his 
country." So she kept saying. 

She had been having frequent let- 
ters from Cornelius. He had told of 
his camp-life, of his companions, of 
the weariness of waiting, of the ex- 
citement, of marching, and of attack ; 
but always with hope. There were 
many who were desponding around 
bin), and anxious'; but he would not 
listen to them : and he wrote always 
of something that was to come, — of 
surety of success in the end. 

But now there was a great silence, 



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no letter, no message of good-by, no 
hope of meeting ; only the few words, 
" Shot on picket-duty." 

She passed into a state of continu- 
ous delirium, and lingered many weeks 
between life and death. She had 
cared for so many, that there were 
plenty of friends to watch with her 
and to nurse her ; and night and day 
there was constant tenderness about 
her, and anxious looks of those who 
feared she would not come back to 
life again. 

But she did. Slowly consciousness 
came and a little strength. She was 
weakened and worn ; but the life was 
coming back. By and by some friends 
told her what little had been known 
of Cornelius's fate. There had been 
a severe conflict evidently, and close 
shots had been heard ; and a party had 
gone to his relief, but too late. The 
enemy had retreated; and only the 
body of Cornelius had been left, 
marked with severe wounds. He had 
been buried where he fell. 

For many days Eleanor lay pros- 
trate with weakness and a conscious- 
ness only of desertion, of silence and 
los5. Her own life seemed cut ofif; 
for all its hopes had gone. What was 
there to take hold of? She tried, 
gradually, to call up the old duties, to 
plan beginning upon them again. 
There were still Andrew and the 
children to be cared for, and a busy 
life waiting outside of her sick-room 
door. She had been conscious of a 
face new to her that appeared often 
now in her chamber, — some one who 
gave directions, and seemed to feel 
competent to rule. 

One day when she was alone with 
Andrew, she asked who it was ^lat 
had been in her room so much. She 
had never remembered seeing the face 
before her illness. Andrew at first 
was embarrassed, but presently ex- 



plained, that he had married again ; 
that it seemed sudden, but he had 
been thinking about it for some time, 
on account of the children ; that,' of 
course, he had not any right to claim 
Eleanor's care for them all her life; 
and that Marion Harlow had been his 
wife the last three weeks. She had 
come to the house to stay with a sis- 
ter during Eleanor's illness ; and she 
had seemed to take to the children, 
and to turn her hand so readily to 
work, that he had come to think he 
could not do without her. '^She has 
been wanting me to tell you about it 
for some days," said Andrew ; " but 
you seemed to be living so as in a daze, 
that I did not feel to want to wake you 
out of it. But Marion was thinking 
you had better be roused up some time. 
She is just the kind of woman after 
your own heart. She takes to work ; 
and she keeps us all going, I caii tell 
you." 

And, with Marion's help, Eleanor 
did get to walk about. Her sister- 
in-law was a woman of little senti- 
ment, — a " driver " indeed in work. 
She showed Eleanor how she had 
been cleaning up the rooms ; how she 
had washed out all the closets, and 
had burned and destroyed all the old 
rubbish ; how she had set Jack to 
work, now he was getting too strong to 
be lying about lazily; and how she 
hadf/lsent little Nell to school. 

''It is all right," said Eleanor to 
herself as she went to bed drearily ; 
''but tha little place I used to tiJce 
seems to be filled up now. My old 
life is all washed up, and cleared 
away with the rest of the things. 
Once I used to regret these very cares 
that kept me from Cornelius ; but 
what is there left now for me ? " 

The next day she took an omnibus, 
and then walked slowly to the place 
where she used to sit and talk with Cor- 



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187 



neliofl. It was late autumn ; but there 
was green grass still ; and the water 
of the fountain was prattling gayl^. 

"What is there left for me ?" she 
said to herself as she sat alone, and 
watched some stranger children put- 
ting their boats out to sail upon the 
little pond of the Common. She 
thought of the last talk there with 
Cornelius, and his question of his 
own courage. It had been put to the 
tes^ and he had not failed. 

But herself, but her own life, — why 
had not Andrew married before ? 
Why could she not have been mar- 
ried to Cornelius earlier ? they might 
have bad years of happiness. She 
might have followed him to the 
South. At least she might have 
looked upon his face for a farewell, 
once* more, after death. Instead, 
she had just been working for others, 
and had flung away her own happi- 
ness. She started up as she said 
this to herself ; for suddenly she re- 
called the Words of reproach that 
Cornelius had used for those who 
worked only for money or for their 
own homes ; and she wrung her hands, 
hitter at her own selfishness. With 
a sudden inspiration she hastened up 
to the steps of the State House. 
She happened to know the surgeon- 
general. She made her way to his 
loom ; and so much of her old vigor 
and resolution returned to her that 
she was able to make that impression 
she had always been wont to give, — 
of valuable serviceableness ; and she 
did not leave till she had been engaged 
as army nurse, and her duty and 
place appointed to her. 

At home there was some exclaim- 
ing against her own resolution. But 
her sister-in-law was one of those 
who preferred to be sole in rule ; and 
she helped Eleanor heartily in all her 
preparations for departure. 



CHAPTER IIL 

Health and strength came back 
to Eleanor with her new occupation, 
and cheerfulness too. Her previous 
life served her as training for her 
new work ; and she rose quickly in the 
ranks of hospital nurses, — one of the 
most esteemed, of the most reliable, of 
all the valued band. And the months 
passed away, and summer came again, 
and winter again; and there were 
still the wounSed to care for, and the 
sick and the hospitals were still full ; 
and Eleanor's work never failed her, 
nor did she fail to the work. 

At length she was appointed to 
service upon one of the hospital ships 
that was to bring home some of the 
exchanged prisoners from Anderson- 
ville, with some other wounded men. 
When Eleanor, with her sister nurses, 
came to see the band, the sight was 
almost too pitiful to bear. Weak, 
emaciated figures were lifted upon 
the ship, and laid upon the beds, and 
seemed to be placed there only to die. 
Words of consolation or of cheer 
seemed but bitter mockery. It was 
hard to find strength even for any 
act of sympathy. The suffering was 
all too terrible and real to hope to 
share it even with the tenderest love. 

Eleanor went directly to the duty 
appointed her. She succeeded in re- 
storing a poor young fellow from 
fainting, whose uncared-for wounds 
had broken out afresh in moving. 
He looked gratefully to her after the 
relief she gave ; and she returned 
to him again after she had been 
her rounds of helping others. He 
asked her to lift him up, that he 
might look about; and he tried to 
speak. "I want you to help him 
now." 

" You are looking for somebody ? " 
Eleanor asked. 



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"Yes, you would know him, be- 
cause his face is so scarred,'' answered 
her patient. " I think they will have 
put a bandage over it. I hope they 
will. You must find him to put a 
bandage over his face." 

He was so uneasy, that Eleanor tried 
to soothe him. *' There are enough 
nurses here to look after everybody," 
she said. " You may be sure he will 
be taken care of. But I will find him 
for you, if you can descrUbe him to me." 

" You see, he ought to be saved," the 
young man went on, " because he has 
saved all our lives. We never could 
have lived out our days in prison, if 
it had not been for him. He was 
always so cheerful. There was only 
one chair in prison; and we had to 
take turns about sitting in it. But 
Cornelius had a way of taking us in 
his arms, — any one of us who was 
weak and failing. And he held me — 
oh, so carefully ! — all through a ty- 
phoid fever, telling us stories all the 
time, — stories that he invented him- 
self. Sometimes they made us laugh ; 
or else they were about home : and 
we could never tire of hearing them. 
It was like listening to a long dream 
that we did not like to wake from, — 
like this dream that I am in. Tell 
me, is it a dream ? and must I wake 
again ? " And he plucked Eleanor's 
sleeve, and looked in her face ear- 
nestly, as if fearing she might disap- 
pear before his sight. 

He had been talking with feverish 
quickness. Eleanor listened eagerly. 

** You said it was Cornelius " — 

"Yes: I tell you, you must find 
him, and make him live. And do you 
put his head upon a pillow soft like 
mine; for I tell you we have no 
right to lie here on soft beds, if he is 
not cared for." 

"But tell me what Cornelius is 
this ? " asked Eleanor again. 



" He is the bravest man I ever knew; 
for he faced death for all of us. He 
supported us all, — saved us all from 
death and madness. It is ComeliuB 
Desmond I am speaking of." 

" No," said Eleanor, trying to utter 
herself plainly and distinctly, as though 
she herself were in a dream. " No ; for 
he is dead. He was killed on duty 
as picket-guard." She repeated the 
words that night and day, night and 
day, she had said over to herself. 

Her companion had sunk back again 
upon his pillow as if exliausted with 
his effort ; but he went on talking. " Oh 
no r it was not so. He was on picket- 
duty, and attacked and wounded by 
the Confederates, — across the face, as 
I tell you. But he had knocked down 
one of them in the same way. And, 
when they were surprised, they es- 
caped, and drew away the body of Cor- 
nelius ; and when they found k was not, 
as they supposed, the body of their 
comrade that had been left behind, — 
in our uniform, mark you ; for they had 
disguised themselves, — well, they 
vented their rage on Cornelius. He 
lived ; but he was carried to prison. 
And I tell you he must be found." 

Eleanor had not staid to listen to 
more. She hutried away along the 
row of mattresses and patients, not 
heeding a word that was said to her, 
looking earnestly at each as she passed. 
At last she came to one whose face 
was covered with a bandage. The form 
was still and quiet ; and his long, thin 
hands lay folded over each other. The 
nurse by his side looked up into Elea- 
nor's face. 

"He is not dead, I think," she 
said. 

" No," said Eleanor : " he must not 
die." She spoke in a low tone ; but at 
her words the patient gave a sudden 
motion. Eleanor laid' her hands upon 
his. 



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"I think he must be kept^very 
quiofc," said the nurse. 

*^It is Cornelius," said Eleanor, 
not trying to explain more ; " and he 
will be quiet. He knows me ; for 
be must have been expecting me. 
Of course he would expect me. Let 
me take care of him. I will be very 
quiet and still ; for I see I must. 
^ back to the poor boy I came 
from, and tell him that Cornelius is 
safe." 

She pointed back to the place from 
which she had come, and sat herself 
by Cornelius. She must not say a 
word to him, she must not rouse him. 
As she had said, Cornelius, all this 
long time, had been looking forward to 
such a meeting. She must let it pass 
over him with gentleness, as some- 
thing he had all along expected. She 
must let it come upon him with a calm 
healing, like the cool wet cloths she 
could put upon his poor, wounded face. 
But she herself was in a high fever 
ind tumult of excitement, and needed 
all those great engines of self-control 
that had helped to keep her in cheer- 
fulness in these long days of separa- 
tion. The boon that* was given her 
was so great and unexpected ! — to see 
him once more, scarred and wound- 
ed ; but she could look upon him once 
again. A privilege indeed, even if 
she had found him again only to see 
him die ! 

CHAPTER IV. 

But Cornelius did not die. Eleanor 
got him home safely. He was hers, 
her own. There was 1 ife again for both 



of them, — for both together. What a 
rich, happy life in those same rooms in 
the old attic, Eleanor working now for 
Cornelius ! — a rich life ; though so 
many would consider them both so 
poor, since Eleaftior must still work 
all day long to earn their livelihood. 

Cornelius sat one duy in the attic 
window. The sunlight streamed in as 
it used jusf before setting behind the 
roofs of the houses. Eleanor picked 
a bit of mignonette, and handed him, 
from a box that stood outside the win- 
dow, upon the eaves. 

" Do you know, Cornelius," she said, 
" that they call us in the house, * the 
happy couple ' ? And they say that 
there never was anybody so cheerful as 
you are as I lead you up and down 
stairs.'' 

" I think it surprises them," said 
Cornelius, smiling, "that a blind man 
such as I am can be cheerful at all. 
And they don't know yet that I saw 
a bit of sunshine to-day. I truly did, 
Eleanor; and I think, I do think, there 
is improvement. But if it should not 
be so ; if this new hope of sight must 
darken, — why, then, Eleanor, I must 
need to be the more cheerful ; for 
then I must be your sunshine. Other- 
wise it would be a double failure, — if 
I should fail in cheering you, and you 
should waste your life in nursing me. 
And remember, that day we sat by the 
fountain, it was you who said we could 
not fail!" 

" And I remember too," said Elea- 
nor, with a sound of joy in her voice, 
" who it was that doubted of his own 
heroism, but has not found it to fail^ 
even when tried on dutv." 



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190 An August Sunrise. 



AN AUGUST SUNEISE. 

As waits with worshipping awe a Parsee, facing 

The eastern skies, 
Till his god come ; so stand I, mute and gacing. 

To watch him rise. 

Ah ! see npon the dim horizon's margent 

A pearly glow, 
Where, fosed with night, a kindling fsEunt and argent 

Soars from below. 

It quickens, widens, and ascending ever. 

Sends javelins on ; 
And plants on ebon mount and dusky riyer 

Its gonfalon. 

A shining scimetar is drawn in heaven : 

On it the word 
In mystic characters of fire engraven : 

"Allah the Lord I" 

On some far beach long rosy sui^^, breaking, 

Bear sails of gold, 
Which dip and fly, their airy streamers shaking, 

Fold after fold. 

Not Golgos' nor Idalium's buried beaker, 

Irised by time, 
Displays such hues as tint with magic liquor 

Yon cup sublime. 

The foam of falls, the light in eyes when dying. 

The sheen of shells, 
Aurora's footprint shall surpass, defying 

All lustre else. 

With burnished rods of gold, day's heralds clearing. 

And making room, 
Proclaim to earth and heaven his swift appearing, 

Whose loss is doom. 



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391 



They hang their banderoles on azure highlands 

And cloudy knolls ; 
WhHe a dim music thrills the attentive silence, 

As on it rolls. 

The small birds hear it, and in slumbrous dreaming 

Begin to sing, 
Till Kature feels the pulsing glory streaming 

Through every thing. 

The vassal earth stirs ; and the gentle breezes, 

Which are its breath, 
Lift from itd heart the stupor that releases 

From night-long death. 

Elneel ye in homage ; swing your censers, flowers I 

In welcoming, 
To him who is your sovereign and ours ; 

For, lo! the King I 



T. G.A. 



COUNTRY SIGHTS AND SOUNDS. 



BY M. H. HINCKLEY. 



At no time is our brook more inter- 
esting than of a morning in the early 
wunmer, when all those little dwellers 
along its banks are so busy and fresh- 
Toiced. The brook itself is a quiet 
little stream, formed by several tum- 
bling, gurgling trout-brooks, that 
We their sources from springs at the 
foot of the Blue Hills. These chat- 
tering threads of water unite in the 
meadow below the hills. Something 
in this quiet, sunny place almost 
hushes that " music of the liquid lip ; " 
and on the stream flows, only whis- 
pering to itself until it comes to a 
locky pathway. Here, as it jumps 
from rock to rock, or rushes around 
and under the maple-roots that reach 
out to find a hold somewhere among 
these bowlders, the little- trout-brooks 
find their voices again. But, as they 
huiry out to the meadows beyond, 



again they catch its drowsy spirit, and 
flow on quietly under the bridges 
thrown across the roadway, past the 
willows, swamp-oaks, maples, button- 
bushes, and alders, where the feathery 
lint of the twining clematis still 
clings among the dark green leaves, 
under the willow-tree blown across 
the stream, and out of whose side 
the young fresh growth shoots up, 
still asserting the old tree's vitality. 
Along the edge of the brook here 
and in the meadow, the golden cow- 
slips grow in abundance. The effect 
of these flowers among the grass, when 
it has assumed that tender green hue 
of late spring, is singularly beautiful ; 
and, as alternate cloud and sunshine 
chase each other across this gold- 
embossed field, it seems to throb in 
answer to the varying light and shade*. 
But the brook steals silently by all 



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this loveliness, down past the tangle of 
azalea, wild-grape, and osier, through 
the sturdy cat-o-nine-tails that crowd 
out into the stream ; and finally, after 
all this shy, pleasant wandering 
from its dark underground sources 
among the hills, loses itself in the 
river below. Just before reaching 
this point, as if unwilling to meet this 
fate, the brook fretS, whirls, and mur- 
murs: but the descending pathway 
hurries it on ; and soon the river 
sweeps it away, and merges it in it- 
self. 

Back in one of the meadows 
through which the brook flows, now 
almost hidden from sight by the 
bushes, tall flags, and meadow-grasses, 
is a favorite spot for the red-winged 
black-birds to build their nests. 
These birds come when shy Spring 
has scarcely made her presence known 
in their old haunts. The brook is 
then so swollen, that it overflows the 
fields far back, leaving on the grass, 
when tlie water recedes, a scalloped 
edge of old brown rushes, grasses, 
and seeds, with here and there a 
bleared, frozen-and-thawed cranberry 
that has drifted down from the mead- 
ow above. When this water-soaked 
meadow shows that pale, greenish hue, 
moved by that knowledge birds pos- 
sess, come the snipe, so suddenly 
and mysteriously, that their appear^ 
ance is spoken of as a fall of snipe. 
Up out of the grass starts the bird ; 
his striped, brownish back so harmo- 
nizing with the surroundings of dead 
grasses and brown meadow-mould, 
that to detect the bird on the ground 
is next to impossible. His flight is 
smart. and quick, but uneven at first. 
" Skeep,". he says ; and, flying farther 
up the meadow, again drops in the 
grass. Their stay here is short ; and 
•then they move on to their nesting- 
places, leaving us in the same sud- 



den manner as they came. In tlie 
dusk of the spring evenings, they 
are sometimes heard, crossing, flying 
over, not high up, and occasionally 
giving this *'skeep." So great is 
their power of flight, that they can 
travel long distances without stop- 
ping to rest : and it is no hap-hazard 
move they make ; for only when the 
meadows offer them their peculiar 
food do they appear. At this season, 
also, comes borne to the ear from far 
up in the clear blue sky the slirill 
cries of a pair of hawks, as they soar 
up-stream to the pine -woods above. 
Now loud and clear comes the cry ; 
and again, as the breeze bears it 
away, we catch it but faintly, like an 
echo answering back. On they soar, 
in over-lapping circles, gaining, by 
but one or two firm strokes of theiif 
wings, sufficient impetus to carry 
them an entire circle; and as tbey 
veer around, swaying the body slight- 
ly sideways, their under-parts flash 
and glisten where the sunlight strikes 
them ; the dark bars under the wings 
showing so clearly even at that far 
height As they near the pine- wood, 
their cries are mingled with the caw- 
ing of crows, who fly out, and dash 
spitefully at the two strangers, driv- 
ing them still farther on, until they 
are lost in the hazy distance. 

The red-winged blackbirds tell of 
a hawk*s presence by a peculiar note, 
followed by a clear, plaintive whistle ; 
and will often fly after the bird for a 
long distance, giving this alarm. They 
do not seem to dare to dash bravely 
at him, like the king-bird, but merely 
follow, as^if jeering liim, until he is 
well out of their neighborhood. It is 
the male birds who fill this office of 
guardian. 

Although these blackbirds live to- 
gether, to some extent, jealousies are 
often seen ; confined, however, to the 



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WS 



jnale portion of the family. When 
they return from following a hawk, it 
seems to be a rule with them to have 
a brush with the cowards and lazy 
ones who staid at home; and you 
will see them dashing through the 
boshes, their epaulets of orange and 
crimson flashing as they angrily chase 
one another. There is a marked 
difference between the plumage of 
the male and female, her dress seem- 
ing of a rusty black color, as if the 
dust of travel still clung to her ; while 
ber mate wears a glossy black suit, 
with brilliant spots of orange and 
, crimson on the wings. Many of the 
notes of the red-winged blackbirds 
sound like the rush and gurgle of 
running water. When the female is 
sitting, the male bird frequently sta- 
tions himself in a tall tree near hy, 
where, at intervals, he utters these 
peculiar inimitable notes; but, let 
danger approach the nest, he is ready 
to protect home and its belongings to 
the best of his ability. The female, 
when frightened from her nest, flies 
off with a chattering sound ; and hoth 
birds keep about the spot almost re- 
gardless of their own safety. In this 
meadow they huild in the tussocks 
of tall, coarse grass growing at the 
brook's edge, binding together, most 
ingeniously, enough of these to hold 
the nest securely, and at the same 
time very effectually concealing it 
The nests are built of coarse grass, 
with a wadding of material that looks 
like decaying rushes, and lined inside 
with fine round grasses. The eggs 
are of a faded green, oddly marked 
with lines and figures in black and 
dark brown. 

Here across the brook are placed a 
few worn planks, which tilt and jostle 
at every step as you cross, sometimes 
dislodging a shy miller hidden he- 
tween them. The soft, sleepy thing 
18 



drops into the stream below, where, 
as quick as it strikes the water, it 
flutters, spreads its wings, and tries 
to fly; hut the little currents and 
eddies bear it on in circles and whirls, 
until just as it reaches the alder-bush, 
whose gnarled roots grow out into the 
stream. As the current carries the 
fluttering insect past, suddenly you 
see the gleam of a trout, a quick 
splash, and the miller is gone, leaving 
only a few bubbles floating off with 
the widening circles. 

Near this foot-bridge a wall 'runs 
down to the hrook, separating this 
pasture from that adjoining. Lead- 
ing from an old bam on the hillside to 
this place is one of those queer crook- 
ed paths that some quiet old cow first 
laid out hy stooping on this side and 
that to snatch up a tempting mouth- 
fril of grass as she led the way to 
drink. 

One sunny morning in summer, 
down this pathway, still sparkling 
with the dewy moisture, came stealth- 
ily moving the long, lithe form of a 
mink. Her fiir looked worn and rusty 
when the sunlight struck her as she 
skulked hetween the tussocks of 
grass. Occasionally she halted to 
look about her, alert for anything eye 
could see, or ear could hear ; but hear- 
ing nothing but the sweet notes of a 
song-sparrow, and complaining cry of 
a cat-bird among the alders, she again 
moved on. As she reached the muddy 
edge of the brook, she trod more dain- 
tily; then, winding among the pickerel- 
weeds, swam down-stream, hardly dis- 
turbing the water, only making a long, 
wedge-shaped wake as she stole into 
the shadowy edge of the brook. Sud- 
denly she disappeared under water; 
but soon came up, struggling with 
something that swayed and pulled 
her about, disturbing the quiet of the 
stream, and sending a muddiness down 



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with the cnrrent. But she bore the 
almost unmaDageable wriggliDg eel 
(for this it was) to the stone wall, and, 
drawing herself and burden up out 
of the water on the large stone, re- 
adjusted her hold, and seized the 
creature back of the head. Then 
bracing herself to suck the blood, 
the thrashing, struggling eel grew 
gradually weaker and weaker, until 
it looked perfectly limp and lifeless. 
Then she jumped from the wall, drag- 
ging this eel, longer than herself, up 
through the grass, taking a different 
and more concealed way than the one 
by which she came, and soon disap- 
peared altogether. In the thick 
banked wall of this bam on the hill- 
side, she had her young; and, dfter 
they grew, large enough to require 
something more substantial than Na- 
ture's first provision, the mother used 
to bring them fish of different kinds, 
— eels, ducks, and like prey. So sly 
and stealthy did she keep herself, 
that she was not seen until the young 
were half grown, and looked like lit- 
tle fawn-colored weasels; when she 
betrayed herself by bringing this food 
which impeded her movements. By 
travelling the same way so many 
times, she grew bold. 

These minks are very destructive 
to fish ; and, when the brook is low, 
they can often be tracked for a long 
distance by the dead eels, pickerel, 
shiners, and sometimes trout, left ly- 
ing along the bank; the mink only 
sucking the blood, and leaving the 
fish unmutilated. One autumn some 
small shiners, meant for bait in pick- 
erel-fishing through the ice, were kept 
in an old tub set in a spring near the 
brook ; and in one night all these fish 
were killed by a mink, who left them 
laid in a row on the ground. They 
looked precisely as if some person had 
so arranged them. But through the 



back of each fish, near the head, were 
four tooth-marks that told who had 
been there ; this being frequently the 
only mark the mink makes on his 
victim. 

But this summer morning, instead 
of a mink coming down to the muddy 
edge, we hear " Peet-weet ; " and here, 
in a scaling, quivering flight, comes 
a fresh-water peep with its snowy 
white breast, brownish speckled back, 
and long delicate legs, so capable of 
pretty, graceful runs and moves. But 
the bird never seems used to its legs, 
or else the body is not well balanced ; 
for, as soon as she alights, she begins 
tilting forward and back, until yoa 
find yourself becoming as unsettled 
as she, if you watch the bird for any 
length of time. It seems as if life 
must become a burden to the poor 
thing, compelled as she is to tilt and 
waver about ; but, in all this unsteadi- 
ness, there is nothing but grace. 

An Irishman, after watching one 
of these peeps, very aptly called it a 
" steelyard bird ; " for he said, every 
time it took a worm, he saw him 
weigh it. 

The peep wades along the little 
shallows, where the small fry collect 
to be out of the way of the larger 
fish ; and, after she has seized one of 
the darting mites, a song-sparrow 
comes flitting down for a morning 
bath, but, objecting to the peep's pres- 
ence, darts at her, until the pretty, 
sensitive thing scales away in that 
beautiful quivering flight, saying 
again, '' Peet-weet I " 

The song-sparrow then dips her 
head, flirts and splashes the water over 
herself, making a great fuss for so 
small a body. After pluming and 
smoothing her feathers, away she flits. 

The fresh-water peep usually builds 
among the stubble of old fields, often 
near a dead mullein-stalk or corn- 



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196 



stump; but this peep that has just 
flown away has her nest in a straw- 
berry bed on the hillside. It is noth- 
ing but a few leaves and straws drawn 
together in a slight hollow in the 
ground ; and surrounded by the ripe, 
glowing fruit (some of which almost 
rests in the nest) are her four eggs, 
drab-coloredy flecked with spots of 
dark brown. One might think here 
was food for the birds right at hand. 
But no : there will never be one straw- 
berry the less for the presence of this 
peep £Ekmily : some crawling worm or 
insect is what they seek. As soon as 
these eggs are hatched, the young will 
keep hidden among the strawberry- 
plants for some little time. A young 
peep is a most singular^fEdry-like thing. 
The body seems like a downy nothing 
in your hand ; the head is most deli- 
cately formed; and their legs look 
about the size of common steel knit- 
ting-needles. The color of the down 
is a light delicate gray* 

But the poor mother seems almost 
beside herself until you put her little 
one down again, and leave the place. 
She will flutter about your feet, almost 
a? if begging you not to injure it ; and, 
long before you can find the phantom- 
like birds, she will try all those pretty 
deceits to mislead you that birdsj^now 
so cleverly how to manage. These 
peeps, in their desire to protect their 
young, seem to lose all sense of self- 
presenration, at other times so strong, 
and will frequently flutter in a dog's 
face to draw his attention from their 
little family. It is only during the 
season of nesting and rearing their 
young that they are found at the brook. 
After this they leave for the salt water, 
where they are found until they mi- 
grate South. 

To this old bam of which I have 
spoken, has come for many years in 
the early spring, long before the peep 



dares trust its delicate legs to our cold 
east winds, a pee-wee. Some bright 
sunny morning you hear a sharp chirp, 
and then somebody calling, first pleas- 
antly," Phoebe ! " and then impatiently, 
" Phoebe ! " emphasizing the first, and 
trilling the last, syllable of her name. 
He flits under the barn where the 
cellar is open ; looks about; comes out 
and pertly seats himself on the fence, 
where he looks the color of the old 
lichen-covered rail on which he sits. 
Still he calls to "Phoebe; " but it is 
evident Phoebe was not ready to start 
when he left, and perhaps, vexed that 
he would not wait for her, will not 
hurry to come to him. He leaves the 
fence, and flits to the old spout on the 
bam ; looks in and about this ; then 
flutters against the barn-window to 
snap up some droWsy fly, who, coaxed 
out from his hiding-place by the warm 
spring sun, is buzzing and bumping 
his head up and dowh the stained, 
cobwebbed pane inside. But, after a 
while, Phoebe comes ; and tlien the old 
cellar is examined and re-examined 
until a satisfactory place for the nest 
is found. Granite posts support the 
barn ; and on a piece of timber placed 
between each post and the long joists 
above is a spot they often choose. 
The nest is built of a mass of mud in 
which are bits of greenish moss and a 
few straws and fine roots : this struc- 
ture is then lined inside with huirs, 
and often some of the hemp-like 
material the oriole uses. The eggs are 
white. The nest is quite deep, so that, 
when the bird is sitting, you only see 
her long tail, and bright mouse-colored 
head, slightly raised as if to ask what 
you can want here. The male bird 
spends most of his time, then, among 
the trees by the brook, still repeating 
Phoebe's name as he darts out in 
graceful whirls, and turns to catch 
som ehovering insect, which, if large, 



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he beats against a branch, and then 
holding it under one foot, disposes 
of it by piecemeals. Occasionally he 
flits under the bam to carry some 
tempting fly to this patient sitter, who, 
consciously or unconsciously, — who 
can tell ? — awaits the coming of her 
four wee helpless little ones, whose 
only thanks for being are almost 
incessant demands for something to 
eat. 

These pee-wees come so early, and 
choosing, as they frequently do, nest- 
ing-places which show so much confi- 
dence in our kindly treatment, become, 
with most every one so favored, spe- 
cial objects of regard and interest. 
Many years ago, the pee-wees — possi- 
bly the ancestors of thesd very birds 
who now come to the old bam — used 
to build over the windows of the old- 
fashioned house across the road. The 
legend then was, that these birds would 
only come to those homes where the 
master of the house was a good man ; 
and in this instance the fancy held 
good. At that time, almost every sun- 
ny day the year round, might be seen 
a gray-headed old man sitting at one 

MiLTOH, Mass. 



of the windows that faced the south, 
silently watching the shadows as they 
moved around the sundial fastened to 
the window-sill outside. Each spring 
that came brought the pee-wee*s nest 
overhead, with its good omen ; and, 
although there seemed such a renewal 
of life and youth to the fresh landscape 
before him, returning spring only led 
the old man gently back a few steps 
nearer to the helplessness of childhood. 
So passed this dreamy old age in al- 
most daily contemplation of this shad- 
owy flight of time ; the hours, days, 
months, and years of his life, like the 
shadows on the dial, all going by in 
the same silent, positive way. But 
there came a spring when the pee- 
wees missed that snowy head at the 
window, and perhaps, feeling a loss 
of something familiar, gave truth to 
the legend by seeking a new nesting- 
place. Still the old house nestles 
under the hill ; but the pee-wees have 
never returned to it. But, regardless 
of all the changes Time has brought, 
the brook here remains unchanged, 
following the same old nooks and 
turns as it steals along to the river. 



PHILIP GILBERT HAMERTOK 



BY HORATIO N. POWERS. 



Phuip Gilbert Hamerton, who 
Alls to-day so eminent a place in the 
world of practical art and its litera- 
ture* descended from the De Hamer- 
tons of Hamerton, Wigglesworth, and 
Hellifield Peel, — one of the very old- 
est families of Yorkshire, whose male 
line is unbroken from the twelfth cen- 
tury. Joh n Hamerton — his near rela- 
tive, and the present representative 
of the family — lives now in Helli- 
field Peel, an old battlemented tower 
in the most beautiful part of Craven. 



This peel, or tower, was built by Liaw- 
rence Hamerton early in the fifteenth 
century ; and the fact that it is still a 
comfortable habitation, after standing 
some four hundred and fifty years, is 
proof of the honest work put into it 
in the beginning. The house at 
Hamerton, which is much older, yet 
exists; but the great house of the 
family at Wigglesworth — a grand old 
Gothic structure with pointed Gothic 
arches — ^ was in great part destroyed 
by fire in 1849. The painful sight 



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was witnessed by Philip, the artist, 
who, though then in his boyhood, 
was old enough to feel deeply the 
calamity. 

Sir Eichard Hamerton, who died in 
the year 1480, married first a daugh- 
ter of Sir John Assheton of Assheton- 
nnder-Ligne, who was a Knight of 
Bath at the coronation of King Henry 
lY. Sir Eichard's second wife was a 
dangbtef of Thomas Lord Clifford and 
Westmoreland, and sister of John the 
bloody Lord Clifford, who was slain at 
Towton field. His son. Sir Stephen 
Hamerton, was made a knight ban- 
neret by Eichard, Duke of Gloucester, 
in 1482. He rode with the Earl of 
Northumberland to meet King Henry 
VIL in his progress to York. The 
grandson of this knight, another Sir 
Steplien Hamerton, was one of the 
leaders of the great northern insurrec- 
tion against Henry VIIL, called the 
" Pilgrimage of Grace." He and his 
friends equipped an army of forty 
thousand men with cavalry and artil- 
lery, and met the royal forces on the 
banks of the River Don. It hap- 
pened, just at this juncture, that, a 
flood arose, which postponed the battle, 
and gave time for re-enforcements to 
strengthen the royal troops; 'after 
which dissensions occurred amongst 
the rebel leaders, who finally dis- 
persed. Sir Stephen was taken pris- 
oner a short distance from his house 
at Hellifield, and sent off to the Tower 
of London, the inevitable receptacle 
of all disloyal spirits. In due. time 
he was tried in Westminster Hall, 
attainted of high treason, and exe- 
cuted at Tyburn ; all his estates being 
confiscated, according to custom, to 
the crown. Dr. Whi taker's History 
of Craven, a curious book, gives a 
list of all his manors, which is, 
sufBdent evidence of his large pos- 
Mssions. It is one of the pathetic 



events of those stormy times that his 
only son died of a broken heart, and 
was buried in York Minster the very 
day Sir Stephen was beheaded. In 
the time of Queen Elizabeth his 
nephew succeeded in recovering the 
tower and manor of Hellifield ; but, 
of course,' the remainder of the vast 
estates was never restored to the 
family. 

On the female side, the Hamertons 
are descended from the royal families 
of Bourbon and Plantagenet, and 
from the principal families of the old 
peerage. It may be added, that among 
the nearer ancestors of the Hamer- 
tons was Col. Chisenhall of Chisen- 
hall, who was conspicuous as one of 
the gallant defenders of Lathom 
House under that intrepid woman, 
Charlotte de la Tr6mouille, Countess 
of Derby. 

The father of the subject of my 
sketch, being a younger son of a 
younger son, entered the profession 
of the law, where, with good talents 
and industry, he achieved honorable 
reputation and success. He married 
the daughter of a cotton manufac- 
turer living not far from Manchester ; 
and thus his son became closely con- 
nected with some of the principal in- 
dustrial families of Lancashire. 

Philip Gilbert Hamerton was born 
Sept. 10, 1834. His mother, a lady 
of fine temperament and rare virtues, 
died when he was only a fortnight 
old. Ordinarily the loss of a mother 
at an early age acts injuriously on 
the character of the child; but in 
this case, so far as tender nursing, 
care, and the most conscientious and 
affectionate tutelage were concerned, 
the maternal place was supplied by 
his father's sisters, who were persons 
of high breeding and intelligence, and 
towards whom Mr. Hamerton, to this 
day, cherishes the most profound and 



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reverent gratitude and love. They 
did all that was possible to make his 
childhood happy, and to direct it 
aright ; and it is a pleasure to record 
the pure and lasting influence which 
they exerted over him. When ten 
years old his father died; and the 
oldest of his paternal aunts was ap- 
pointed his legal guardian. She was 
a person of elegant culture and very 
superior gifts and character, — the com- 
plete ideal of an English gentlewo- 
man, — and she took the greatest pains 
with the education of her nephew. 
He appears to have been docile enough 
in the hands of his masters, applying 
himself earnestly to what was set 
before him, but manifesting an invin- 
cible repugnance to Latin and Greek. 
What he learned of these languages 
in his early days he seemed easily to 
forget; indeed, it was a peculiarity 
of his to acquire rapidly and retain 
what he loved, but to lose rapidly 
what he hated. His strong repug- 
nance to the ancient languages, not- 
withstanding his fair acquaintance 
with them, has continued, to a great 
extent, through life ; though, in later 
years, he has taken them up as a 
part of general literature. His poetic 
temperament showed itself at an 
early age ; and, while a child at school 
at Doncaster, he read all Scott's poe- 
try with the greatest delight. So, 
too, while a pupil in Bamley, still a 
mere lad, he used to steal away to read 
an old black-letter copy of Chaucer, 
which he found there in the library. 
What his early youth most lacked was 
a regular discipline in harmony with 
his genius. But here he was more 
fortunate than some fine spirits, who 
have been repressed and embarrassed 
by either poverty or unsympathetic 
and cruel masters, or both. Mr. Ham- 
erton was always exceedingly fond 
of science and art, and the modern 



languages ; and in his boyhood began 
to practise English composition with 
great enthusiasm. At Bamley he 
took a prize for con position ; many of 
the competitors being his seniors. 
This success was a healthful stimulus 
to his youthful ambition. After his 
connection with this school was dis- 
solved,, he was received by its head 
master, Dr. Butler, as a private pupil, 
and pursued his studies very much 
after his own liking. In fact, the 
good doctor had so much affection for 
him, that he did not hold him down 
closely to the classics ; and so, when 
the time approached for sending him 
to Oxford, he was behindhand in 
these studies. In this emergency 
an old Oxford tutor (who happened 
to be a relative of his), famous for 
drilling backward young men for the 
university, took him in charge with a 
vengeance. For a whole year he 
trained his pupil in Latin and Greek, 
all other studies being suspended; 
giving one half of each day to one 
language, and one half to the other. 
The fact that Hamerton consented to 
such discipline speaks well for his 
tractability and temper. He evident- 
ly appreciated the importance of work 
as a step to success. There is reason 
to suspect, however, that he went 
through the drudgery with a pretty 
strong mental protest, and some dis- 
gust; for his artistic tendency was 
beginning to assert itself by a good 
many positive indications. By the 
time that this year of drill was ended, 
he became so passionately interested 
in landscape-painting as to decide 
upon pursuing it as a profession. So 
instead of Oxford, with its academic 
shades, its lectures, society, studies, 
and pastimes, he chose the seclusion 
of a studio in London, where, under 
the instructions of Mr. Pettill, — a 
prominent artist whose acquaintance 



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he bad made in the Lake District, 
— he went vigoronsly to work. The 
time spent here was industriously em- 
ployed, and with such advantage, that, 
afterwards, Mr. Hamerton regretted 
that he had not continued longer with 
his excellent teacher. Going back to 
Lancashire, he lived in an old mansion 
— a " house of seven gables " — belong- 
ing to one of his uncles, and sur- 
rounded by the most picturesque scen- 
ery. The place had many charms for 
him, and he was deeply attached to 
it; and this kept him lyorking there 
alone, but in a kind of solitude which 
he greatly enjoyed. A beautiful 
stream behind the house made the 
valley musical; and here along its 
course the young artist used to take 
his easel, and study and paint amid 
the most delightful inspirations. 
Years passed, — pleasant and profitable 
years, — in which he struggled on to- 
wards artistic and literary expression ; 
for he had a passion for literature as 
well as for painting, and verse was a 
natural outlet to a temperament like 
his. It was here that the poem en- 
titled ** The Isles of Loch Awe " was 
written, a work on heraldry finished, 
and a good deal of anonymous matter 
produced for the public prints. He 
was yet in his teens ; but his industry 
and systematic application had the 
method and muscle of vigorous man- 
hood. His poem was published in 
1855, when he was twenty-one years 
old, and is sparkling with bright tal- 
ent Mr. Hamerton is a real poet as 
well as a painter, and, by devoting 
himself to the Muses, could achieve a 
distinguished fame in this field of 
art 

This year (1855), Mr. Hamerton 
went to Paris to study French and 
art He became intimate there with 
Mr. Leslie the painter, — whose name 
is well known in this country, — whose 



kindness and ability very favorably 
impressed him*. He acknowledges 
thankfully the good offices and influ- 
ence of this artist ; though they did 
not agree by any means in their 
views of landscape ; Leslie's favorite 
master being Constable, wbo was little 
to Hamerton's taste. He had also 
very pleasant and close relations with 
William Wyld, who lived in Paris, 
and in whose studio he worked a good 
deal ; in fact, he regarded himself as 
Mr. Wyld's pupil. From this distin- 
guished English landscapist, to whom 
it may be mentioned he dedicated his 
"Painter's Camp and Thoughts about 
Art," Hamerton derived much benefit ; 
but from this master, too, he widely 
diifered. His passion was for a kind 
of scenery and motive that Mr. Wyld 
was not partial to. Wyld liked rich, 
sumptuous, Italian subjects, — Genoa 
or Venice in her pride. Hamerton's 
passion was for rock and heather, and 
lonely lakes. Wyld's paradise was 
the Corniche or Como ; Hamerton's 
paradise was Loch Awe. 

For two or three years, our artist 
pursued his studies assiduously in 
Paris, and then entered upon the ro- 
mantic but fruitful expeditions de- 
scribed in his " Painter's Camp." This 
book has been extensively read in 
England and in this country ; and is 
much admired for its fresh spirit, its 
dvid descriptions of nature, and the 
gracefulness of its narrative. It is 
very rare that a work so thoroughly 
good is produced at an age when this 
was written. But what is more re- 
markable is his instructive volume 
of essays, entitled "Thoughts about 
Art," which was published at the 
same time. To get the latter work 
well afloat on the sea of literature, 
there was attached to it, as sails to 
waft it out, "The Painter's Camp 
in the Highlands/' which has the 



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more popular character of the two; 
the books being originally issued as a 
single venture. They were both very 
successful, and have taken their place 
in the first rank of productions jt 
their class ; though in the later edi- 
tions tliey are printed as separate 
works. 

Hamerton's life in the Highlands, 
while intensely studious and labori- 
ous, — it was undertaken not as a pas- 
time, but with the most profoundly 
serious aim and motive, — has a breezy 
freshness and novelty which render 
it exceedingly fascinating. In the 
movable camp which he invented, and 
whieh he could transport from place 
to place without difficulty, to suit his 
taste or convenience, he could paint 
in all sorts of weather, — when even 
the hardiest mountaineer dared not 
venture out, and when the sheep per- 
ished in the snow and cold. His 
camp and its equipments comprised 
every contrivance essential for actual 
work and comfort; having separate 
quarters for his servant and for cook- 
ing, with ample accommodations for 
painting, writing, and sleeping. By 
this method of life much valuable 
time was economized that otherwise, 
in that wild region, would have been 
consumed in travelling back and forth, 
from subjects which he wished to 
paint, to a lodging-place ; to say noth- 
ing about the seclusion, independence^ 
and pleasure of such an arrangement. 
In fact, without his camp, to study 
certain aspects of nature would have 
been impossible. The literary habit, 
which constantly grew upon him, was 
usefully indulged here ; and some of 
his most vigorous descriptive pieces 
and essays were produced in alterna- 
tion with painting, when tired of the 
palette. He has Shelley's passion 
for the water, with a sterling good 
sense about practical affairs which 



Shelley did not have ; and so, on the 
Lochs of Scotland, — which he navi- 
gated 80 much, and which were so 
unsafe in stormy weather, — he used 
tubular boats constructed under his 
own direction. 

In his twenty-fifth year, Mr. Ham- 
erton married a French lady, with 
whom he became acquainted during 
his residence in Paris. She was the 
daughter of M. Fr^d^ric Gindriez, who 
had been prefect of the Doubs, but 
had resigned his post when Louis Na- 
poleon's government began to under- 
mine the republic, and had sent 
orders which a republican officer could 
not consistently execute. M. Gindri- 
ez was also a member of the National 
Assembly, where he represented the 
Department of Sa6ne et Loire. This 
accounts for Hamerton's final settle- 
ment at Autun, the chief town of that 
interesting region which he has 8# 
beautifully described and illustrated 
in the " Unknown River." Mrs. Ham- 
erton is a lady of charming manners 
and many accomplishments. She won 
the heart of one of her husband's 
aunts, who had a very intense British 
prejudice against every thing French, 
by tenderly and skilfully nursing her 
during a sickness which the physi- 
cians could not relieve; completely 
captivating her affections, and curing 
her malady. Mrs. Hamerton speaks 
English with elegant precision and 
fluency, indeed, she is very familiar 
with literature ; has written a novel 
called "Jeanne Laraguay," published 
by Chapman and Hall; and contrib- 
utes to the English periodicals. Mr. 
Hamerton's wife enters into his studies 
and pursuits with a keen, ^11 sympa- 
thy, and, in the mean time, performs 
the duties of a good housewife with 
scrupulous and exemplary fidelity. A 
family of interesting and promising 
children make their home bright 



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After the appearance of " The Paint- 
er's Camp," published in 1862, the pen 
of Mr. Hamerton was in great request 
by the English periodicals ; and his 
contributions began to appear, first 
regularly in "The Fine Arts Quar- 
terly Review," then in " The Saturday 
Beview," "The Fortnightly," «' Corn- 
hill " and '^ MacmDlan's " magazines, 
and « The Pall Mall Gazette." Arti- 
cles by him have also appeared in 
^* Atlantic," "Putnam's," and "Old 
and New," on this side. For three 
years he was the regular art-critic 
on "The Saturday Review;" but, 
disliking travelling by rail so hearti- 
ly, — he had to go from Autun to 
London to see the pictures in the 
Academy, — he resigned his position. 

On the 1st of January, 1870, he 
founded "The Portfolio," an artistic 
publication which has firmly estab- 
lished itself in the favor of the public. 
"The Portfolio" has made the sub- 
ject of etching a prominent one, and 
has done a great deal to encourage and 
advance the practice of this beautiful 
art by giving commissions to the best 
etchers of the day. 

Mr. Hamerton has lived for the last 
nine years in the vicinity of Autun. 
The ancient town and its environs are 
the delight of antiquarians, as the soil 
is full of precious marbles, bronzes, 
statues, and mosaics. Here, by the 
picturesque Arroux, fragments of Ro- 
man wall, nigged and venerable, stand 
yet, with rich branches, heavy with 
foliage, hanging over, and drooping 
towards the stream . Towers rise h ere 
and there ; and one arch of the grand, 
old mediseval cathedral remains. The 
etcher could not have a more attrac- 
tive field than this dilapidated town. 

After leaving Loch Awe in 1861, 
and before settling in this pleasant 
region, Mr. Hamerton lived a while in 
Sens, where he painted more than 



during any other equal period of his 
life. Several of these pictures were 
exhibited in the Royal Academy, 
where he has been frequently repre- 
sented. That his life has been won- 
derfully industrious his works amply 
testify. By a happy division of labor 
he carries on painting, etching, and 
writing, without the exhaustion that 
would result from constant applica- 
tion to a single pursuit. From the 
year 1862 to 1873, we have from his 
pen "The Painter's Camp," "Thoughts 
about Art," " Wenderholme" (a novel 
in three volumes), "Etching and Etch- 
ers," "Contemporary French Paint- 
ers," "Painting in France after the 
Decline of Classicism," "The Un- 
known River," " The Etcher's Hand- 
Book," and his latest work, " The In- 
tellectual Life." He has given^ lately, 
particular attention to etching, of 
which he is passionately fond, and 
•in this art has invented a new process, 
which he regards as a complete suc- 
cess. Formerly et<!hing was done by 
protecting the copper with a black 
ground, which was removed with the 
etching-needle, so that the lines showed 
as copper on a black ground. By his 
process the line shows black on a per- 
fectly white ground, whilst the artist 
is at work. Etchers have been seek- 
ing for this for generations ; and it is 
confessedly a real triumph to have 
achieved the method, which he calls 
the positive process. This he em- 
ploys now altogether, and never in- 
tends to go back to the old method. 

The habit of his life is regular ; and 
each day«he devotes three Jiours to 
painting or etching, three to writing, 
and two to the study of the best lite- 
rature. He has wisely given up all 
literary work at night. Occasionally, 
for recreation, he takes a run to Paris 
or London or Switzerland ; but these 
visits are turned to good account. 



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His republican sympathies are strong ; 
and he has watched the political events 
of France and Europe with profound 
interest, and a strong faith in the 
gi-owth of liberal principles and insti- 
tutions. 

Though Hamerton's pictures have 
a remarkable excellence, and some of 
them have been much praised by emi- 
nent landscapists, he does not regard 
his paintings generally as of a popu- 
lar character, and perfectly under- 
stands the reason why they cannot 
be. In the first place, he likes sub- 
jects that are devoid of human asso- 
ciation, — remote, too, from the obser- 
vation of most people, — singular, or 
even unique phases of myriad nature, 
whose features concentrate meanings 
with which the common mind is not 
familiar. In the next place, these 
subjects are not only exceedingly dif- 
ficult to paint, but, from the tran- 
sient nature of the effects, do not 
possibly afford adequate opportunities 
for tranquil and ' regular study : so 
memory has to be depended on more 
than such a conscientious artist as he 
is could desire. Among his larger 
oil-paintings which are much admired 
are " Kilchum Castle," owned by 
Henry Milne, Esq., of Crompton Hall, 
and " Sens from the Vineyards," and 
" The River Yonne," the property of 
Robert Handsley, Esq. While his 
sincere devotion to literature has no 



doubt interfered with his progress as 
an artist, it is clear enough that his . 
attention to practical art has vastly 
increased his power and usefulness as 
a writer. Such are the inevitable 
compensations in the world of mind. 

In person, Mr. Hamerton is well 
formed and athletic, with a noble 
head, regular features^ a very fine eye, 
and a superb beard, which is worn 
fiill. Like George Macdonald, he has 
the American type of face, rather 
than the English. 

It is not my purpose to discuss his 
literary performances; and yet this 
brief sketch would lack an essential 
feature, without an assertion of their 
great utility, a& well as their graphic 
force and beauty. You are not mere- 
ly stimulated by his thought, but are 
helped in the field of art, just where 
you need assistance. His style has 
the prime excellence of pleasing while 
it instructs. Instead of astonishing 
and bewildering you with a maze of 
splendid words, or a cloud of such pic- 
tures as Ruskin sometimes puts before 
you, he gives you the clear-cut con- 
ception which throbs with vitality. 
You feel that you are in the leader- 
ship of a guide who knows his ground, 
and exactly what he is about. Ab he 
is now only in his thirty-ninth year, 
we have good reason to expect more 
work &om him^ both in literature and 
art 



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SCBOPE; OE, THE LOST LIBRAEY. 

BY FREDERIC B. PERKINS. 
PART V. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

The see-ance to which Adrian was 
to escort Civille was appointed for 
early Saturday evening, and the visit 
to The Germ was to follow it ; so Adri- 
an waited on his cousin accordingly, 
in good season. As they left the 
door, -Civille asked Adrian who Mr. 
Bird was. 

'* A reporter, I believe," said Adri- 
an,— "why?" 

" He called this morning," was the 
young lady's answer ; " — rather an 
odd thing, I thought." 

"Odd? How?" 

"Well — I never saw him except 
the other evening when Mr. Scrope 
brought him, and once more at the 
Solidarite." 

" But if he has been properly intro- 
duced, he may call again and try to 
establish an acquaintance, may he 
not?" 

" Yes 1 guess the thing that 

puzzled me was, his taking such an 
interest in all of us. I didn't think of 
it until he had gone, but he had got 
me to talk about almost everybody I 
know ; father, Mr. Button, Ann, her 
mother — even their4iired girls ; Mr. 
Scrope, yourself, the Solidariti, Mrs. 
Babbles, Miss Griggs " — 

" Griggs !" -^ repeated Adrian, a 
little startled — . " What Griggs ? " 

" Amelia Griggs the medium. 
Why?" 

"Oh," said Adrian, with an eva- 
sion which was upon a perfectly true 
pretext, — " it's a rather odd name. 
Yoa know there*s an old saying, ' as 
merry as grigs.' A medium, is she ? " 
He remembered the allusion to spirit- 



ual endowments in the letter Mr. 
Button had given him. 

"Yes. She's miserably poor, but 
she is an excellent test medium. We 
shall see her to-night." 

" But now, cousin Civille, what did 
you tell Mr. Bird? About me, first 
of all, of course ? " 

An innocent young woman has just 
the same sweet helpless beautiful 
gravity that is so inexpressibly touch- 
ing in a little child ; not an affecta- 
tion, but only a perfect seriousness 
and earnestness of direct purpose. 
The transparent purity of intention 
makes up a million-fold for the funny 
ignorance and — not foolishness, but 
— inexperience, that is exhibited. 
Adrian, was not remarkably aged, 
neither was he wise enough to do 
any harm; but he had lived more 
" amongst folks " as they say in the 
country, and the solemn satisfaction 
with which his cousin now went on to 
tell the unwise' things she had done 
caused in him a curious mixture of 
emotions and reflections, which how- 
ever with a reserve partly natural and 
partly acquired he did not utter in 
words. 

" Oh," observed Civille, her sweet 
heartfelt low-pitched full-toned voice 
giving a wonderful additional inten- 
sity of attractiveness even to the 
baby-like simplicity of her confession, 
" Oh, you know I go by intuitions. 
Mr. Bird is good. I wanted him to 
know all about my friends. I gave 
you a very nice character indeed, 
cousin Adrian. I told him how un- 
selfish you are, and how you don't 
care about money, and how you are 
not calculated to succeed in this world^ 



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unless you should find some mission- 
ary work that would call out all your 
energies." 

"AH that, Civille?" said Adrian, 
laughing, — "it's more good than I 
know of myself, at any rate." And 
he thought in his own mind, " A nice 
recommendation for a business man ! 
But Bird will see what it amounts to, 
of course I " 

"Many thanks for the favorable 
diagnosis," he resumed aloud, — 
"now tell me all you said of the 
rest." 

So she did ; she had, so to speak, 
opened her mental photograph-album 
to her visitor, and confided to him her 
whole private collection of portraits. 
Wliat she had told was not very 
much ; the innocent observation and 
judgments of a very intuitively acting 
mind, exalted^ moreover, in degree 
and intensity of action by the very 
nature of the state of physical ailment 
or feebleness or susceptibility which 
was for the time at least fastened 
upon her; but without much real 
knowledge of good, and with none of 
evil. Adrian, somewhat astonished as 
he was at their unreserve, was startled 
by the truthfulness of some of the 
points, while he was sure that some 
others were quite mistakes. However, 
he made very little comment, but 
when she ended asked what she had 
said about herself? 

"Myself? — nothing." 

" And yet," said Adrian, " was it not 
you that he wanted to know about ? " 

"Perhaps it was — he called on 
me." 

" Well, — don't encourage him and 
then pretend to be astonished at his 
-taking encouragement." 

"That would be flirting," decreed 
Civille with much majesty. " I am 
sure you would not say so to me in 
earnest" 



Adrian hastened to disclaim. But 
still, he took the liberty of intimating 
to his cousin that she was quite at- 
tractive enough to make Mr. Bird, or 
anybody else, in love with her. This 
idea the young lady put aside with a 
great deal of decision, and when Adri- 
an would have persisted, she told him 
plainly that she didn't want to hear 
any more such nonsense. So he held 
his peace ; but he was none the less 
and very naturally, of opinion that 
Bird's interest in her was the sole, as 
it was a suflScient, reason of his visit. 
Adrian was right, too. And he added 
in his own thoughts another comment, 
no less just : that she was a person 
of much too ethereal make to be a 
suitable companion for the police re- 
porter, good fellow and man of sense 
though he was. 

Civille, after an interval of silence, 
spoke first, as if she had in the mean- 
while been pursuing a train of thought 
by herself — like the River Arethusa 
coming up again after going under- 
ground : 

" I shall never marry." 

The solemn tone of absolute con- 
viction would have been funny enough 
if Civille had been a hag of a hun- 
dred. Being a singularly attractive 
young woman, it was very much more 
so, and Adrian, who was quick enough 
to see the ludicrous side of things, 
had to pull very hard to pull a long 
face. He wished, moreover, to quote 
signior Benedick; "When I said I 
would die a bachelor I did not know 
I should live to be married." But ho 
held in with all his might, and suc- 
ceeded in coming down to a tone of 
grave and cousinly counsel. 

" My dear cousin," said he ; " every 
young woman who is worth marrying 
at all, has exactly that conviction 
some time or other, just as, they say, 
any one who can become an orator has 



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the awfullest frights lest he cannot. 
It may be true of yourself; but you 
are so good and so nice and I like you 
80 much that I promise you when 
you do fall in love I won't bring up 
your promise against you." 

" Don't talk so, cousin Adrian ! 
* Fall in love ! ' If you could under- 
stand how disagreeable the phrase is. 
I can see how a woman might sacri- 
fice herself to make another person 
happy. But to risk a whole life — 
and other lives too — on the chance 
of an emotion ! I don't think I am in 
much danger of it ! " 

^'I don't think so either/' said 
Adrian. '^But an intuition may be 
both emotional and correct. And a 
self-sacrifice such as you speak of 
might be as much of a blunder as 
gambling on emotions. The truth is, 
there is no blinder emotion than self- 
sacrifice. It is as sightless as anger." 
An immense deal of comfort is 
taken by young persons of about as 
few years and as little experience as this 
couple, in comparing their profound 
maxims and reflections. The conversa- 
tion of the present occasion was thus 
felt It continued until they reached 
the place of the see-ance, with no 
result in particular for Civille, who 
only spoke whatever came into her in- 
nocent fearless mind, and whose igno- 
rance of things and people in general 
was only exceeded by her ignorance 
of herself Adrian, on his part, was 
a little older and wiser — but he was 
talking with a purpose. For the first 
time in Mxa life he was talking and 
watching in order to form a deliberate 
judgment on the nature and condi- 
tion of a human soul. 

But he could not feel that he dis- 
covered much, and as he put questions 
or suggested distinctions or listened 
to replies, he kept thinking over and 
over again of that vast spring of living 



water in the wild Florida woods, where 
the visitor looking over the edge of 
the boat is frightened, because the 
water is so absolutely transparent that 
he sees no water. " Is her soul so 
shallow ? Is her soul so deep ? Is it 
only utterly transparent ? " he kept 
asking and asking, — and his inter 
est in her as a fellow-being in peri^ 
as a relative who might be endanger- 
ing the reputation and happiness of 
a large circle of friends, began to 
take the special additional interest ^ 
— to him excessively attractive, — of 
a living and new problem in practical 
psychology. Was she really such a 
solitary-hearted thing? It might be. 
The suspicions pointed at Civille bad 
not made the least lodgement in the 
honest young fellow's clear mind ; and 
this being so, he now begaii to feel that 
they were to be interpreted as the re- 
action of low souls against another too 
high for them ; that perhaps she was 
really too good to live happily amongst 
human beings. He instinctively rev- 
erenced women ; he had not seen so 
very much of Civille, it is true ; but 
all that he had seen was most lovely ; 
and he was almost ready even now to 
conclude that in good faith she ought 
always to live single, because nobody 
would ever be fit to possess her. 

While they talked, and he consid- 
ered, they had — on foot or by street- 
car — reached that dreary block of 
houses on the south side of Bleecker 
Street between Thompson and Sul- 
livan some distance west of Broadway, 
called Depau Row. This block, in 
times gone by, was a centre of magnifi- 
cence, having a paved archway pier- 
cing the building between each two 
tenements by way of porte cochlre ; 
separate wings in the rear for offices 
and servants' rooms; immense big 
parlors and chambers with heavy old 
fashioned plaster cornices and great 



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floriated dabs of the same in the mid- 
dle of the ceiMngs arourd the gas 
chandeliers, as if piercing the ceil- 
ing had made a very bad plaster of 
Paris sore with granulations ; faded 
fresco work in abundance ; and the 
like remainders of departed glory. 
The great merchants of past ages —for 
the grandeur of these houses belongs 
to a remote New York City antiquity 
of at least twenty-five and perhaps 
thirty years ago ! — whose households 
once enlivened these abodes, are dead, 
or are inhabiting far more gorgeous 
abodes on Murray Hill or Fifth Ave- 
nue ; for the city builds itself north- 
ward, and its rich people evacuate 
place after place, leaving each locality 
deserted, as the inhabitant of the nau- 
tilus does the successive chambers of 
his shell. Thus the great Depau 
Row houses are rented to boarding- 
house-keepers or to tenants of single 
rooms. The lofty comfortless caverns 
are depressing and horrid ; it is like 
living in a deserted city of giants ; one 
is tempted to suppose that rich men a 
quarter of a century ago were all twelve 
feet high. The dismayed tenant tries 
in vain to secrete himself in a comer 
of the room like Ulysses in the cave 
of Pol3rphemu8 ; he feels as if some 
mighty ghost would stride forth upon 
him in the night and eat him'; and 
he soon flees away to seek a smaller 
and snugger abode, terrified into the 
nou-payment of even the insignificant 
rent which is all that such ill-adapted 
premises will bring. 

Such mystical and ghostly associa- 
tions however, it is obvious, make such 
quarters fittest of all for the necro- 
mantic marvel-shop of the Medium. 
It stands to reason that to this spectral 
person, a real ghost would be a real 
godsend — that is, supposing the Me- 
dium not to be frightened. 

There are diflerent kinds of mediums 



as there are of spirit communications. 
But they are almost all alike in one 
thing — ^they sell their revelations for 
fifty cents apiece. There is the Heal- 
ing Medium, whose office is to discern 
diseases and to cure them ; the difler- 
ent kinds of Test Mediums whose mes- 
sage from the spirit land may always 
be stated thus : " I show you a puzzle. 
If you can't say how it was done, 
then it follows that it was by a spirit. 
Price fifty cents.'' There is the Psy- 
chometrist, who reveals character from 
inspecting a toe-nail or a lock of hair. 
There is the Spirit Artist, who paints 
or draws or photographs spirit-por- 
traits. There is the Inspirational 
Medium or Trance Speaker; the 
Consulting Business Medium, and so 
on. 

The roeetingofthis evening at Mrs. 
Babbles' room, was however not of 
any of these sorts, although mediums 
of more than one of these established 
varieties were present. It was of still 
another kind, comparing with the 
others somewhat as a theological sem- 
inary or medical school compares with 
the settled clergyman's or the estab- 
lished physician's operations. It was 
a sort of school of the prophets, or Col- 
lege de Propaganda Fide; and the 
technical spiritist name for it is, " a 
developing circle." Like all activi- 
ties, the spiritist phenomena depend, 
for fulness and readiness of manifesta- 
tion a good deal upon practice and 
habit. Moreover, Spiritism, as thus 
far practised, has a good deal of the 
vampire in it. This is because it has 
worked on and through the nervous 
system, which of all the human sys- 
tems draws most directly from life- 
sources. Wh atever acts by excitement 
of the nerves, sucks close from the 
very spring-heads of life. This is the 
reason why so many spiritists dry up 
80 and grow skinny. Let the nerve- 



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excitement cease, and they will be- 
come as fat as Christians. 

Kew mediums must be found, of 
course, from time to time, to preserve 
the apostolical succession and to spread 
the true doctrine. An approved mode 
for this purpose is, to set up a " devel- 
oping circle," presided ovor by persons 
of experience, and in a series of ses- 
sions to try all comers, and as good 
subjects shall appear, to train them in 
the manifestations and work them 
gradually into the regular professional 
order. 

Civille, even in perfect health, was 
naturally as sensitive as a healthy hu- 
man bei n g could possibly be, from mere 
purity of temperament, and fineness 
of fibre and organization. Unhealthy 
conditions of life — want of exercise, 
of sunlight, of fresh air, for instance 
— had recently caused her to drift be- 
yond the line of healthy susceptibility, 
both in mind and in body, and the quick 
wits of her spiritist friends had with 
considerable delight recognized in her 
the qualities for a medium of rare and 
perhaps unequalled powers. Experi- 
enced as they were in managing their 
afiairs, they had said nothing directly 
to her of any ulterior purpose, but 
had with much shrewdness confined 
themselves to discussions and expla- 
nations of the subject generally and. 
of such phenomena as she had herself 
undergone or witnessed ; the proper 
method being, so to arrange that the 
novice shall seem to acquire by her 
own seeking and her own finding, 
the mysterious powers or knowledges 
which are to fascinate her into a pro- 
fessor. Acquirements thus made 
are most treasured ; convictions thus 
reached are as nearly impregnable as 
human convictions can be. 

Adrian and Civille, passing under 
one of the archways, stopped at a 
door midway in one side of it, that 



looked very dark and mysterious in 
the deep shadow of the place. Open- 
ing this door, they entered a roomy 
and deserted-looking hall, ascended a 
broad staircase along one of the walls, 
and after onaor two turns in corridors, 
knocked at the door of a rear room 
and were admitted. The room was 
one of the great empty gloomy cham- 
bers proper to the place and the occa- 
sion. Its fioor was matted instead of 
carpeted, though it was winter. The 
furniture, which would have been suflS- 
ciently abundant and comfortable for 
a small room, seemed like a few for- 
lorn sticks of things neglected in a 
vast lumber-gariet. Only one light 
was burning ; not a gas-light either, 
but one of those very ingenious pa- 
tent solar somethings that burn petro- 
leum or an extract of it, that always 
smell bad, and smell the worse as you 
turn them down. This one was burn- 
ing very dim indeed, and consequently 
" smelt like fury," as Adrian couldn*t 
help saying to himself. He was des- 
perately tempted to ask Civille if it was 
a spirit that he smelt. Indeed, in this 
investigation of his, one of his worst 
terrors was, the constant recurrence 
of things that were ridiculous, and 
that kept distressing him with stifled 
laughs and jokes. But he watched 
his thoughts as closely as Christian 
in passing through the Valley of the 
Shadow of Death ; for one jeering 
question or observation would have 
hopelessly destroyed his whole enter- 
prise. Of course the funnier it was, 
the harder it was to be grave, and the 
graver he was, the funnier things 
became ; and the poor fellow passed 
through some awful struggles accord- 
ingly. 

Several men and women were sit- 
ting in silence round a table at the 
further side of the dim room. The 
woman who had admitted them, recog- 



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nized Civille, greeted her in a quiet 
half-whisper, and looked at Adrian. 

" My cousin, Mr. Chester," explained 
Civille, also in a low tone; "he is 
much interested in our inquiries. 
Adrian, this is Mrs. Babbles." 

Adrian fell readily into the solemn 
manner and almost soundless utter- 
ance which he recognized as the con- 
ventional fashion of the place. How 
could he without impoliteness do other- 
wise? So he briefly expressed his 
assent, and his expectations of en- 
lightenment 

"Come and be seated," said Mrs. 
Babbles. She led them towards the 
table, and made room for Civille be- 
tween two men and for Adrian a little 
way off between two women. Was 
this a precaution against any possible 
conspiracy ? It is the invariable rule 
to divide companies in this way at 
these meetings, at any rate. 

The company, eight or ten in num- 
ber, were sitting round the table, each 
with 'the right hand* lying on the 
table, the left being superimposed on 
the right hand of the next neighbor. 

The session occupied about an 
hour. Most of this time was occu- 
pied in gravely and earnestly sitting 
perfectly still very hard in the dark. 
Once or twice the people sang some 
verses, of an indeterminate hortatory, 
kind, about loving and so on, to such 
old tunes as Balerma and Golden 
Hill. From time to time, Mrs. Bab- 
bles, who seemed to be tile ruler of 
the feast, would ask in a low tone, 

" Is any spirit present ? " " Does 
any spirit wish to communicate with 
us?" 

Adrian could not sing, as he. did 
not know the words used ; but he 
could hear Civille's clear sweet full 
voice amidst the nasal head tones 
that all the rest of them used. Ever 
and anon^ in the dimness, one or an- 



other of the patient sitters drew a 
long breath, or changed posture. The 
noises of the street came only muffled 
and dulled, to the remote room, in 
such a way as almost to show off and 
heighten the silence. Adrian, not 
expecting any thing in particular, 
and not very credulous, was however 
imaginative and impressible. The 
darkness and silence, the mysterious 
expectancy of the rest, seemed to 
intensify his senses. More than once, 
at Mrs. Babbles' questions, he fan- 
cied he heard some faint knocks or 
snaps in the table before him, or in 
the floor beneath; but he held bis 



peace; 



no one else seemed to hear 



them ; he judged that it was his own 
excited fancy. 

All at once Adrian was aware that 
there was a commotion within the 
breast of his left-hand neighbor, a 
woman. She gave three or four deep 
and vigorous sighs, almost groans. 
Then she wij;hdrew her hand for a 
moment from under Adrian's, and 
smote her breast therewith repeated- 
ly. Then she turned to Adrian and 
spoke with awful solemnity, but in 
the low voice which was the rule : 

"I have a communication for you." 

'' It will give me great pleasure to 
receive it," murmured the favored 
youth, with equal gravity. 

"I am impressed," continued the 
fair speaker, "that you are in near 
relations with the lady who came 
with you." 

"That's very extraordinary," an- 
swered Adrian, throwing into his 
voice a tone of as much astonishment 
as he could assume — " very extraor- 
dinary, indeed. We are cousins — 
not very near though, and we like 
each other very much." 

This was a sufficiently presumptu- 
ous claim, no doubt, in its assertion 
as to Civille's sentiments; but the 



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artfol young man had on the moment 
conceived the wicked idea of furnish- 
ing the medium a hint for more rev- 
elations, just to see how it would 
v-ork. 

" Yes," resumed the medium, with 
a self-satiflfied manner, " all commu- 
nications from the spirit-land through 
n»e have always been perfectly relia- 
[>le. I have great power of discern- 
^g truth. You would try in vain to 
conceal it from me. I am impressed 
that you are to be very happy with 
your chosen companion." 

^' That is a very pleasant message,' 
observed Adrian, gravely, but amused 
at the success of his little trick. He 
did net notify the seeress that his 
chosen companion was Miss Ann 
Button. 

As no further messagea»or manifes- 
tations could be coaxed from the spirit- 
land, the chief priestess after a time 
suggested that as the conditions were 
in that respect apparently unfavora- 
ble, the exercises of the occasion 
should be varied. 

" Many lovely things " observed - 
Mra. Babbles, with seriousness, '^ have 
already come to us through inspiration 
in the trance state. It has been strong- 
ly impressed upon me, to-day, that 
such revelations are now about us, and 
ve awaiting a suitable medium. Per- 
h^ our dear friend Miss Van Braam, 
will consent to permit any communi- 
cations which may be offered through 
her ? Professor Pawson Clawson said 
Miss Van Braam was a seer already. 
I am sure she* will not refusid to help 
forward the great cause ? " 

CiviUe, slowly, and, Adrian thought 
reluctantly, arose from her place at the 
^ble, and took an arm-chair which 
^^ Babbles placed for her, and a 
little more light was now turned on. 
^e of the* two men between whom 
CiviUe had been sitting, a big fellow 
li 



with a red face and straight hair, got 
up, somewhat as if it were a matter of 
course, placed a chair before Civille, 
and seating himself in it, would have 
taken her hands. She however looked 
to Mrs. Babbles and then toward Adri- 
an, saying, 

" I prefer my cousin, Mrs. Bab- 
bles." 

The big man rose up readily enough. 
Adrian had experienced a pretty sharp 
shock of anger at the idea of this rath- 
er greasy-looking person touching Ci- 
ville, and he was extremely pleased to 
find that she felt the same prejudice. 
It did not occur to him that he him- 
self took a liberty in touching her. 
Few people reason in that way. The 
definition of right and wrong which 
the Bushman chief gave to his cate- 
chising spiritual father the missionary 
— net result of many anxious lessons 
— is more or less the rule for most of 
us — ** It is wrong for another man to 
take away my wives ; it is right for me 
to take away his." 

Adrian sat down, and under the 
instructions of the experienced Mrs. 
Babbles, first made a few magnetic 
passes from Civille's forehead, down 
her arms ; and then took her hands in 
his, crossing arms however, so that 
right held right and left left. The 
grasp which he was shown is peculiar ; 
thumb is laid against thumb, and the 
fingers of each hand clasped over the 
other, lying across its back, so that 
the palms are firmly pressed together, 
as magnetic surfaces. 

" What am I to do ? " asked Adri- 
an ; '' do I make no motions ? " 

*' No ; sit still, and be perfectly 
calm," said Mrs. Babbles ; *' let your 
thoughts be concentrated upon the 
subject, and your will be firm and stea- 
dy that she shall pass under your con- 
trol, and sleep. Look steadily at the 
point between her eyebrows. And let 



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your thoughts be kind and well wish- 
ing; and be open to all good influen- 
ces from aty spirits that may be near 
you ; in a peaceful harmony with the 
universe around." 

Adrian did so. It was easy enough 
to wish well to the spiritual and love- 
ly girl who reclined before him. As 
if any human being could wish her 
otherwise than well I he said to him- 
self. 

So he collected his consciousness, 
and substituted ibr the ordinary swift 
successions of his thoughts, one single 
quiet, but steady and concentrated 
volition. " Sleep, Civille ! " he con- 
tinuously willed. 

The others sat around in silence, or 
with a few scarcely audible words, now 
and then. Adrian, although he pro- 
jected — so to speak — much of his 
conscious life in the effort of will which 
he directed toward his lovely cousin, 
yet had abundance of consciousness 
left to consider the situation in which 
for the first time in his life, he found 
himself: close to a singularly attractive 
young woman, in actual contact with 
her person, and aware that she was 
deliberately surrendering herself to 
him, to receive his commands, to do 
his will, to obey him. For a few mo- 
ments, the large soft pathetic deep 
gray eyes looked straight into the 
strong clear blue ones. , Then, while 
Adrian looked, very slowly, very steadi- 
ly, under his gaze the translucent 
white lids floated downward over iris 
and eye, and were sealed shut. Civille 
smiled faintly, and with a little sigh 
and a nestling movement laid her 
head upon the back of the chair ; she 
whispered, " I'm so sleepy I " and was 
silent : and then her breathing became 
regular, like a pulse, and with the 
smile still on her lips, she was asleep. 

Is this magnetizing ? Adrian asked 
himself — it is more like being mag- 



netized!* — for a feeling utterly new 
to him — such as he had never 
dreamed could exist in any one, or for 
any thing, — a warm living breath, 
as it seemed, but it was a deep throb 
of emotion too, swept over him or 
around him, as if from some infi- 
nite depth ; or it was as if he felt 
that in those moments his own life 
budded and bloomed as a flower be- 
fore his eyes, into its perfect opening. 
" What excess of sweetness," the feel- 
ing was — for it could not reach words, 
nor be contained in them — " What 
excess of sweetness, to be permitted 
so near to one so lovely ! " Nor was 
that all ; for even while he felt this 
ineffable influx, as it seemed to him, 
from some unheard-of spiritual Eden, 
from a yet farther distance, from a 
depth infiriltely within that other 
depth, a still profounder throb, a still 
more moving emotion, a still lovelier 
consciousness opened and bloomed and 
arose upon or around or within him 
— " We are one ! " was this thought. 
And for the time being,, it was assur- 
edly so. The magnetic union is even 
mystically perfect. It required a na- 
ture as intuitional as Adrian's, how- 
ever, to feel it so instantly and so fully. 

But it was not his office to experi- 
ence emotions or delight himself in 
dreams of his own ; and with a reso- 
lute effort he directed his mind as 
wholly as he could to the beautiful 
passive girl before him, and away 
from his own consciousnesses. Per- 
haps ten minutes passed in this si- 
lence, the soft pulses of the joined 
hands throbbing against each other 
until Adrian fancied that streams of 
vital force intermingled and ex- 
changed through the magic ring of 
their arms almost as perceptibly as 
running water. 

"Ask her if she is asleep," said 
Mrs. Babbles, softly. 



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" Are you asleep, Civille ? ^' 

There was an effort to speak ; but 
the delicate lips framed no distinct 
word. In a few moments more how- 
erer, repeating the question, enforced 
with a special volition and command 
*o J*P^y> ao articulate "Yes" was 
given, and the sensitive was fully en 
rapport with the magnetizer; sur- 
prisingly fully, considering the short 
time and extent of their magnetic 
relation, A number of questions were 
suggested by the company, put by 
Adrian, and answered with more or 
less coherence by Civille. They were 
sufficiently commonplace ; — Were 
there any spirits about ? What sphere 
had she got into? What is old 
Mr. Brown doing now, at No. 666 
Eleventh Avenue? Can you go to 
Europe ? to the North Pole ? What 
are the prospects of the Cause ? Adri- 
an couldn't help thinking that his 
charming victim — for the feelihg that 
she was helpless, a victim, kept com- 
ing up in his mind, — showed ex- 
cellent good sense in her replies ; for 
they were little, exceplf " I can't see ; 
it is all cloudy; there is somebody, 
that I don't recognize ; it is cold ; " 
and so on ; for, he said to himself, I 
should have said just about the same I 
But the company were still more 
edified; for, Mrs. Babbles said, it was 
beyond all expectation that in so 
short a time any one should become 
80 strongly clairvoyant ; and the sub- 
ject, she observed, would obviously 
very soon become an independent clair- 
voyant investigator. 

"Independent how ?" asked Adrian. 

"Can go into the trance state by 
herself, whenever she wishes," was 
the reply. " You are so good a mag- 
netizer, and your magnetism is so con- 
genial, that you will carry her forward 
T^ry rapidly." 

Now while these vague or merely 



curious questions were being put, some 
others all at once occurred to Adrian, 
which he proceeded to put for him- 
self, and to which he received answers 
unexpectedly definite. It was rea- 
sonable to suppose, Adrian however 
reflected, that these questions, being 
put with a vivid actual interest of the 
asker's own, may have carried a great 
deal more power with them for that 
reason, and thus may have evoked a 
corresponding exertion of mind in the 
clairvoyant. Still, the replies, though 
remarkably pat and terse in wording, 
were articulated in a slow difficult way, 
as if the speaker were impeded or 
weighed down or held back. 

" A business offer has been made to 
me," asked Adrian. " Shall I accept 
it?" 

"No." 

" I am interested about another bus- 
iness matter, involving much money 
abroad. Will it succeed ? " 

" No money will come." 

Then* the thought occurred to Adri- 
an — if he could veil his questions so 
as to be safe before these strangers, 
to ask his prophetess about matters of 
far other importance than even the 
great Mr. Button's publication busi- 
ness, or the vast Sbfope Estate in 
England. 

" There is still another matter in 
which I am interested, along with a 
person who is concerned with both 
those other affairs. That person I 
dreamed about, Wednesday night." 

" CarCt catch you I " 

At this reply, which was not so much 
an answer to any thing at the mo- 
ment in Adrian's conscious thoughts, 
as it was a solution to the excessively 
disagreeable problem of his dream 
about being chased by Miss Button, 
Adrian was much startled. But he 
asked again, with a distinct sense of 
running a risk : 



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''Some one has been stealing. 
Who is it?" 

" The other oneP 

Adrian could make nothing out of 
this; the very clerk who had de- 
nounced her, it might mean — or the 
yery detective who was shadowing 
her. But in spite of him these four 
answers delivered in the slow calm 
way, and with the delaying articular 
tion of the magnetic sleep, impressed 
him exceedingly. He could not help 
' a conviction that they might, whether 
or not they actually did, convey 
knowledge from some source or by 
some channel other than the ordinary 
ones. But he judged it not best to 
venture any further ; and so he let go 
of his cousin's hands, and after leav- 
ing her alone for a few moments, sum- 
moned her out of her sleep by the 
usual mode of reversed passes. After 
congratulations from the company, 
Adrian and Civille took leave, as they 
had* still to visit the Philosopher of 
the Germ, and devote another hour 
to investigating the New Universe. 
Does a truly philosophic mind require 
more than an hour to investigate a 
universe ? 

They reached the abode of the great 
and philosophic being whom they were 
to meet, without difficulty, Civille, 
to Adrian's pleasure, and somewhat \k 
his surprise, saying in reply to an 
inquiry, that she was not only not 
fatigued, but refreshed rather, by her 
excursion into dreamland. And she 
inquired in turn if he were not tired 
in consequence of sending her thither. 
No, not at all. 

CHAPTER XVn. 

Great and exceptional souls natu- 
rally gather into great and exceptional 
communities. Where vast numbers 
of human beings are crowded, heaped; 



rammed together as the enormous 
forces of human passions and pursuits 
drive and compress them in great 
cities, there are stirring the immense 
powers that great administative minds 
love to wield, there are living the in- 
quiring and waiting souls that great 
teachers yearn to instruct, there are 
heaped and heaping treasures such 
as the ambitious merchant longs to 
amass, which the ambitious thief or 
gambler or stock-speculator longs to 
get away from somebody else. Napo- 
leon, Cuvier, Laffitte, Cartouche, each 
could not but come to Paris. Roths- 
child, Carlyle, Miller, Zadkiel, could 
not but reside in London. And Astor 
and Stewart, or Jacob Little and James 
Fisk, Horace Greeley or Bill Tweed, 
Doctor Brandreth or Mr. Vanderbilt, 
Mr. Barnum or Mr. Tarbox Button, 
or that great and profound genius S. 
P. Quinby Anketell, A.M., the Elu- 
cidator of the New Universe, could not 
but live in New York. The vaster 
the ambition, the loftier or more strange 
the doctrine, in like proportit>n is it 
more indispeihable that it come to 
the great city. If your teachings can 
be received by only one soul in a 
thousand, then in a whole state of a 
million of population you could have 
but a thousand followers, and you can 
neither find them nor assemble them. 
But in a city of a million, they can all 
meet you any evening. Mr. Anketell 
was therefore most of all impelled to 
come to New York; for his views 
were — if there is any truth in arith- 
metic — one hundred times as vast as 
any just referred to. For the Anke- 
tellicalists were at the time of Adrian's 
visit not over about ten in number. 
New York is reckoned — suburbs and 
all — at a million souls. Hence, it is 
obvious, Mr. Anketell could find but 
one mind in a hundred thousand, in- 
stead of one in a thousand, that was 



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able to receive his doctrine ; he was 
accordingly exactly a hundred-fold 
the more pressed and driven into New 
York. Could reasoning be more con- 
clusive ? 

Mr. Anketell's residence was a re- 
sp^table-looking house on a cross 
street, not very far from Madison 
Sqoare, and between Madison and 
Fourth Avenues. It was what is ealled 
an " English basement " house, having 
a door only one step above the sidewalk 
instead of at the top of a long flight 
of steps, and having within this door 
a small sitting-room at the front, 
while the hall led past it back to the 
stairs, and past them to a larger room 
filling the rear half of the ground 
floor. This was occupied at preseni? 
as a dining-room and sitting-room 
both ; for the exigencies of the cause 
to which Mr. Anketell was devoting 
his life had at the moment somewhat 
crowded the establishment. To tell 
the truth, besides the philosopher's 
own family, he was at present pre- 
siding over the whole band of his 
declared followers, assembled within 
his household. 

"S. P. Quinby Anketell," read 
Adrian as they reached the door — 
« 8. P. Q. A. — Senatus Populus Que 
Americanus. Not a had set of initials 
for the leader of such a movement as 
this." — And between the ringing of 
the bell and the opening of the door 
he told Civflle of a sign he remem- 
bered to have seen at a silversmith's 
in Fulton Street. Its four initials, 
the mighty ancient quaternion of S. 
P. Q. R. had attracted him ; but on 
approaching, instead of the sonorous 
"Senatos Populus Que Romanus," 
he found the practical business an- 
nomicement " Silver Plate Quickly 
Kepaired." " It was like the dust of 
Alexander stopping a beer-barrel," he 
laid. But after bis fashion, he irrev- 



erently figured to himself another 
meaning for Mr. Anketell's initials, 
but which he did not think proper to 
repeat to his companion, nor, — he 
hoped — must she necessarily be re- 
ferred to in the same. This was, 
" Silly People Quickly Attracted." 

While he moralized, they were 
shown into the waiting-room, and 
asked to sit for a few minutes. 
Adrian improved the occasion to ask 
Civille about the position of Mr. 
Anketell's doctrines as related to those 
of Spiritism. 

" Anketellicalism," answered the 
young lady, with the exceeding fiinny 
gravity of a young lady's metaphysi- 
cal utterances, '' neither asserts nor 
denies. It includes and reconciles all 
other beliefs. Its roots are so much 
deeper than any, that from it they 
«an all be traced, and by it can all 
be explained and combined." 

"Then it goes yet deeper," com- 
mented Adrian, "than the famous 
preacher'* statement that * every great 
truth is composed of two incompatible 
extremes ' ? " 

" I never heard that thought," said 
Civille. "But it is Mr. Anketell's. 
All truth is his." 

"Well," said Adrian, "yes. All 
truth is every man's. In that wealth, 
monopoly is not to be feared ; we 
may all amass our utmost. So that 
even Napoleon's saying of * The tools 
to him that can use them,' loses its 
bad meaning if truths are the tools. 
Then one can believe in the spirit 
doctrines and in Mr. Anketell's too ? " 

"Why, of course," said the young 
lady; "but they are truths — facts 
— not doctrines. But let him tell 
you himself," she added, for steps 
approached, and a tall man entered 
from the rear room. 

" My dearest child," he said, in a 
solemn clear voice, "welcome. The 



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spirit of the place lacked you." And 
taking her hand, he pressed it; and 
held it, as Adrian observed, longer 
than was absolutely necessary. 

Civille introduced Adrian, as her 
cousin, and a sincere inquirer after 
new truth. 

" Most rejoiced to.receive you," said 
Mr. Anketell, in the same solemn clear 
voice. " But, my child," — he turned 
to Civille, "there is no new truth. 
All truth is eternal; without begin- 
ning or end." 

" But," suggested Adrian, " until 
our existence becomes unconditional, 
we must use conditioned words, must 
we not ? Is it not practically correct, 
therefore, to have a word ' new ' ? 
It means, as to truths, not truths 
just manufactured, but truths just 
found ; — New to me, if I never found 
them before ? " 

While Adrian spoke, he and Mr. 
Anketell looked straight into each 
other's eyes. The great Reformer 
was a tall and rather slender person, 
decently enough clad .in black, fair, 
with light blue watchful eyes, a blood- 
less face, a sharp high projecting 
forehead, thin features, intelligent 
enough, marked with thought, and 
with a look of preternatural gravity. 
Adrian, summing him up in his swift 
intuitional way, felt, rather than 
thought, that he disliked him. But 
this may have been because the Re- 
former was so very paternal with 
Civille. However, the watchful face 
smiled as Adrian ended, and the great 
thinker condescended to approve. 

" Ah ! " he said, " this is a singu- 
larly acute mind. A just distinction. 
But the New Language — which Mr. 
Jobraker is advocating in my behalf, 
will obviate such questions. My new 
categories of thought and speech will 
forever prevent any confusion be- 
tween the absolute and the relative. 



One word per thought, — one thought 
per word." 

" Ah," said Adrian, " Then the new 
language is yours ? " 

" Yes," assented Mr. Anketell, with 
visible unobtrusiveness — " merely 
one of the departments of the New 
Universe. But, my young friends, 
The Germ was upon developmjent 
when*you rang. Come in and take 
part in our little conference. I was 
just setting forth the sum of the 
New Universe, as it reached mo this 
morning at half past ten precisely. 
I have improved two epithets and a 
definition since last week." 

And while Adrian considered briefly 
within himself, how deep and broad a 
Universe that could be which two 
epithets and a definition could im- 
prove, Mr. Anketell showed them into 
the dining room, where, around the 
extension table — now only set with a 
common red damask cover on which 
lay a few papers and writing materials 
— sat the whole stren^h of the 
company, so to speak : a whole New 
Universe in one dingy back room. 
Such is the concentrative ipight of 
Mind! 

The little band who were here incu- 
bating, — if one may say so — upon 
the Egg of the Future, seemed to 
Adrian, glancing round the room as 
he took his seat, like a rarefied ex- 
tract of the Solidariti de VAvenir. 
Indeed, most if not all of them were 
members of that extremely respectable 
body. The chief difiorence between the 
two assemblages was in their spirit; 
for while the units of the Solidariti 
were even ludicrously centrifugal in 
their tendency, there was evident 
here an equally predominant spirit 
of perfectly unconditional acquiescent 
discipleship. The two conditions may 
just as well cO-exist in the same mind 
as the uproar of the boys in recesS| 



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215 



along with their stillness in schpol- 
hoors. 

Mr. Anketell took a chair at one 
end of the tahle. 

"Perhaps/* he said, with his grave 
manner and clear articulation^ Mr. 
Morue will read my summary once 
more firom the beginning. We have 
a new friend on this occasion ; and it 
is well that ^iiss Van Braam should 
receive the new statement as com- 
pleted. Great things depend upon it; 
and upon her." 

Mr. Morue, a good looking young 
fellow with a sweet expression and 
fine soft dark eyes, bowed and com- 
plied. The statements which he read 
contained very much that was — but 
is it not impertinent to assume to 
praise such things ? Let a few sen- 
tences suffice; and write for circulars* 
containing summary of the New Uni- 
verse, to S. P. Quinby Anketell, New 
York City, enclosing Fifty cents. 

MR. MOBUE'S BEADINa. 

All that exists is either Action or 
Result. 

This is true throughout the Uni- 
verse. 

Therefore it is true in symbol as 
well as in fact. 

Voice is a symbol of fact. 

In Voice the sound is Action ; it 
terminates in Result. 

Therefore all Language falls into 
these two : 

1. Sound. 2. Stop. 

The first, because the easiest of all 
possible Sounds is the open Ah! — 
when the mouth opens, and we vocal- 
ize. The first of all possible stops is 
'm I — when the mouth shuts and we 
are silent. 

We have therefore the One Eternal 
Word; 

ahmI 

(This the speaker vocalized with 



much power, giving a good broad 
long Ah! and bringing his lips to- 
gether with almost a slap at the 
end.) 

As a single instance corroborative, 
take the Sacred Syllable of the plu- 
rality of worshipping humanity, the 
Buddhists — Om! 

All the rest of Real Language must 
of necessity be developed from this 
one word, by modifications. These 
are of course only such as the vocal 
organs can supply. 

Here the reader gave a carefully 
arranged series of modifications, such 
as: 

1. Of the Vowel: ee'm ! au'm! 
oo'm! 

2. Of the Consonant: ah'p ! ah'fl 
ah'g! 

3. Of the Effort : ahbabah'm ! ah- 
gagah'g! 

And he briefly showed the infinite 
number of combinations — that is, 
of words, deducible from this single 
syllable ; which must include not only 
all the existing words of the present 
languages — collectively termed the 
Scatterary or Inartistic — but that 
inexhaustible remainder of vocables 
on which the New Universal Lan- 
guage can draw at sight and without 
end for expression of the whole New 
Universe of Ideas. 

The Name of the New Language is 
that which could not but arise in the 
rightly constituted mind. It em- 
bodies beginning, sound, end, thus : 

^ m'ah'm. 

And for instance corroborative of 
the justness of the choice, observe 
that this name embodies the first call 
of the human being to its mother, and 
the accepted expression of the man's 
reverence for the woman. 



With like reasonings and illustra- 



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tions did the exposition proceed. As 
the first part, that relating to lan- 
guage, drew to a close, Mr. Anketell 
spoke a few words aside to Civille, 
andboth^ arising, disappeared into the 
small ante-room. Mr. Morue went 
on, explaining that the only emenda- 
tions had now been read, and that the 
Teacher was not required for the rest, 
which he should however repeat 
" chiefly " he said, " for inculcation." 
This was however if any thing still 
more interesting to our neophyte 
Adrian than what had preceded it ; 
for it contained the explanation of the 
development, not merely of sound or 
language, but successively of Matter, 
Life, Thought, Society, and Perfec- 
tion. This whole system, thus set 
forth, constituted the New Universe. 
No considerations but those of Space 
and Time prevent their being here 
given in full. At present (the state- 
ment went on), men are scarcely ad- 
vanced beyond that base and sordid 
condition of scattered life in disjunct 
item, which the pre-Anketellical but 
only half-enlightened Fourier so well 
designated by calling them "misera- 
ble civilizees." Even in the dawn of 
our New Universe, even in the first 
unfolding of The Germ, must we 
make allowances for the weakness, for 
the unwisdom, for the slavishness of 
mind, so long locked down upon the 
ages : even the New Universe itself 
must not clash too violently with the 
recognized forms of thftught and feel- 
ing. The old religions, as well as the 
old political and social conditions, 
will swiftly fade as our dawn opens 
into the coming day. Yet the wise 
Teacher ordains not to diverge too 
far, and he chooses for the present 
. name of the New System, one which 
shall express his Greatest Discovery, 
the Identity of All Forces by the mar- 
riage of the Material with the Divine. 



I have thus revealed to you the 
Elements, — the reader ended, — of 
the New Universe : Let its Spirit re- 
ceive the New Baptism : what Anke- 
tell teaches — what the Anket^llical- 
ists believe and propagate, let them, 
until the New Language shall afford 
its full and real and mysteriously 
significant name, mention and pro- 
claim abroad as 

ELECTEO-CHBI8TIANITY ! 

At this magnificent climax there 
was quite a sound of delighted ap- 
plause, and some offered thanks to 
Mr. Morue, while others eagerly en- 
tered into discussions on the many 
questions that every one can see aris- 
ing from these immensely fruitful 
propositions. In the midst of this 
happy excitement, Adrian, who was 
sitting with his back towards the door 
where they had come in, heard a 
quick step, a rustle of garments ; a 
hand was laid on his shoulder, and 
Civille, in a gasping whisper, said in 
his ear, 

" Adrian, take me away quick ! " 
Astonished beyond measure, the 
young man sprang up and turned to 
look at his cousin. Such a froasen 
white horrified face! It was fright, 
grief, indignation, all awful pain in 
one. Without another word, she 
stepped to the door leading not to the 
ante-room, but to the hall, and so 
towards the outer door. Adrian, 
with an indistinct feeling as if mur- 
der had been done, but without a 
word, hurried after her. So swift 
were their motions that they were 
both out of the room before the 
stream of chattering congratulatory 
talk could fairly subside. As Adrian 
got into the hall, Civille had already 
reached the front door, and was hur- 
riedly endeavoring to open it. At 
this moment, the great Mr. Anketell 



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tppeared from the hall-door of the 
little ante-room, looking, as nearly as 
Adrian coold see in the rather weak 
gas-light, somewhat flustered for a 
pMosopbic teacher. He went straight 
to Civille, without observing Adrian," 
and promptly putting one arm round 
her waist, said, 
"You mistake entirely. Come 
' back a moment." 

"Jfo!" she said vigorously, "I 
don't mistake ! Let go I " • And she 
gave him a pushj. Adrian gave him 
something more effectual — a tremen- 
dous straight right-haild hit under the. 
left ear, that lifted him with a bang^ 
against the door, and then dropped 
him in a limp heap on the carpet. 
With one jerk the angry fellow slung 
the Great Teacher backward into the 
hall, just as one or two startled disci- 
ples opened the door of the dining 
room. 

" Pick up that dirty dog ! " he said : 
and opening the front door, he hurried 
his cousin out She had kept on her 
honnet, and he had as it happened 
kept his hat with him, so that they 
made no unconventional display in 
the street. 

The night was bright- and cold, and 
patches of a slight snow that had 
fallen in the morning, were still pure 
and white in corners along the side- 
walk. Adrian felt Civille grow heavy 
on his arm. 

" Don't faint," he said, and snatch- 
ing up a handful of clear snow, laid 
it promptly on her forehead. The 
shock, along with her own keen reso- 
lute will, helped her. 

"I won't," said she, with her teeth 
set tight — and she didn't. But it 
was a pretty near thing. An ^mpty 
hack drove by, and Adrian, hailing it, 
took Civille directly home. She sat 
silent the whole way, leaning back as 
if exhausted, and Adrian, though he 



thought industriously, said not a 
word. 

When they reached the old shabby 
white house it was quite late, and no 
light was visible except a dim one 
througlf the front door fanlight. The 
door however, as it appeared on trying 
it, was to their surprise not fast. 
They entered the hall together ; — for 
Adrian thought best to see that noth- 
ing was wrong. A female form arose 
from a chair at one side of the hall 
and came forward, bearing a bundle. 

"Who's that? "said Civille, star- 
tled. 

" It's me, 'm," said a sharp voice. 

"Why, Katy, what are you up 
for?" 

" Yis'm, I think as much," was the 
reply, with obvious wrath. — " Misther 
Van Bram he says he was tired out, 
and I was to set up for yez, and he's 
gone to bed sure, and I've done it, 
haven't I?" 

" You have, I should think," said 
Civille, gravely. 

"An good night to yez, *m. I 
didn't hire out for a watchman at all, 
so I didn't I" 

And the enraged Irishwoman made 
for the front door, with the energy — 
and reason -*-of one million Fenians. 

"Why," said Civille, "you only 
came this noon. My father's old j he 
didn't know." 

"And sure he'll know next time 
thin ! " 

" Hold on," interposed Adrian 
sternly ; " let's see what you're carry- 
ing off there ! " 

"An it's a woman's duds, sorr. 
There ; will ye plaze examine I " 
With fingers that shook in an extraor- 
dinary access of fury, she untied her 
bundle and spread it out on the hall 
table. 

" Oh, tie it up and go," said Civille. 
" Don't stop her, Adrian. You can 



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have one day's wageS; Katy, if you 
choose." 

" No, thank ye 'm. And thank ye 
sorr," returned the furious serving wo- 
man. " An it's moighty little there's 
to stale in this house any way." 

" You've looked, have you ? " hroke 
in Adrian, coolly. 

*• And the curse o Cromll on sich 
naygurs ! " went on the fury, not find- 
ing a perfectly handy parry to this 
hit ; and out she hounced and off she 
went, a long stream of scolding dying 
away as she passed down the street. 

" Sit down a few moments," said 
Adrian : " rest you a little ; then we'll 
look round the house and see that 
every thing is safe ; it will do no harm, 
and you'll sleep better." 

So they went into the parlor, lit the 
gas, and Civille took her own chair by 
the fire-place. After a few moments 
Adrian said, 

" Cousin Civille, please to tell me 
if you think proper, what happened 
at Anketell's." 

She started ; " Oh no ! ." Then she 
considered a moment, and then — re- 
considered. "Yet why not? It was 
very considerate of you. Cousin Adri- 
an, not to ask me before. Thank you. 
And perhaps you ought to know. But- 
what did you do to him, Adrian? " 

"Broke his jaw, I hope; I know 
I lamed my knuckles," replied the 
young man, examining his right hand, 
which was in fact scarified a little 
as will happen when one strikes very 
straight and hard on a sharp bone. 
" I can't write for a week, to judge 
from the sensation." 

Civille was about to run for arnica, 
but Adrian wouldn't let her, and she 
then proceeded to describe her inter- 
view with the philosophic Mr. Anke- 
tell. He had asked her into the 
ante-room, she said, on pretence of 
wishing to consult her about a fur- 



ther and .still 'more my^jterious doc- 
trine upon which, he said, his soul 
had been deeply pondering for a long 
time. The statement had begun with 
some rhapsodies about the ancient 
•idea of an outer and an inner doc- 
trine ; about Civille's wonderful quali- 
ties; about the Platonic theory of 
souls made in two halves, which be- 
longed to each other by the very fact 
itself if they happened to meet, and 
so on. Then he went into a theory 
of right and wrong as applied to him- 
self, which ended with a series of 
propositions in substance somewhat 
like these: "A truly organized life 
'would be immortal in this body. Tlie 
society of our other half soul is the 
one first greatest requisite for this im- 
mortality. No law can be permanent 
to such a truth as that. And more- 
over, the New Universe is developing 
so swiftly that my laws will very soon 
be received all over the earth. This 
earth is the brain of the Universe ; I 
am the brain of this earth. In less 
than one year, you will sit at my feet 
and worship me as a God. In three 
years I shall be ruling all this earth 
from the eternal centre of earthly 
power in ^ome. And," concluded 
Civille,- with a great effort, — "he 
insisted upon it that I was his Queen ; 
that the right way for me to learn 
his doctrine was to be his; and — 
ugh ! — before I could get away ho 
kissed me ! " 

In spite of his anger, Adrian could 
not help laughing at hel: disgust ; for 
at the recollection, she gave her cheek 
and her mouth a terrible scrubbing 
with her handkercliief. 

" Augh ! " she repeated, — " and 
he's y cold and damp as a toad ! " 

" So you just ran away ? " queried 
Adrian. 

" Yes : I told him to ask Mrs. An- 
ketell about it, however." 



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" Mrs. Anketell ! Is the old scoun- 
drel married!'* 

"Why yes; long ago. He said 
something about his wife being per- 
fectly willing; but I ran out." 

" Good riddance/' commented Adri- 
an. He was on the point of adding 
the dangerous suggestion that he 
hoped she might escape as well from 
the rest of her psychological investi- 
gations ; but he stopped just in time. 
He recommended instead that noth- 
ing should be said to her father about 
the adventure, as it would only dis- 
tress him, to which she agreed, — not 
knowing however, poor girl, how 
much distress she had already occa- 
sioned him : and now they made a 
hasty inspection of doors and win- 
dows, which were found all safe; and 
Civille, as they came round again to 
the front door, shyly invited Adrian 
to occupy their " spare bedroom " and 
breakfast with them in the morning. 
He however excused himself, in part 
because he suspected what was indeed 
true,' that Civille would have to get 
breakfast herself and ought not to 
have the additional bother of a visi- 



tor ; and partly because he had prom- 
ised to spend the next day — Sunday 
to wit — with Mr. Button's family, 
and somehow he preferred lo go 
thither from his lodgings. As Civille 
came in with him, in readiness to lock 
the door, he turned and said, 

" Good night." 

"Good night," she responded, with 
sleep already drooping cloudily over 
her lovely gray eyes, and a smile at 
her own fatigue. Some impulse — a 
wholly inscrutable one, — was it the 
example of the philosophic Mr. An- 
ketell? — suddenly sprang up in the 
young man's mind. So quickly that 
she could not resist, he had one arm 
round her waist, the other round her 
neck, and had pressed a long hearty 
kiss upon her flower-soft lips. They 
trembled under his. 

" Gx> quick," she said. He could 
not understand whether there was 
sorrow or displeasure in her voice ; 
there was something. But without a 
word he opened the door and departed ; 
and all the way to his boarding house 
he was saying to himself 

"I wonder what I did that for?'' 



[To be oontinued.] 



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The law prohibiting free exchanges and free circulation to news- 
papers is a tax on knowledge, a direct attack on intelligence and 
literature. 

Men dislike to have privileges taken away ; and, if they can obtain 
no compensation for what they are deprived of, they are pretty likely 
to try to take something away from the depriver. Thus Congress, 
feeling that public opinion demanded the discontinuance of the 
franking privilege, discontinued it, and took two compensations, — one 
an increase of their own pay ; and the other, a retributive depriva- 
tion, namely, the discontinuance of free exchanges and free home 
circulation of newspapers ; for the newspapers had stirred up this 
very public opinion. Of these two discreditable performances, the 
former is an ex post facto measure, which is wrong on the same prin- 
ciple that forbids penalties to be inflicted on crimes committed before 
the making of the law. This principle is simply. Laws may not 
take men by surprise. Even a wrong-doer must have ample notice 
that he is to be punished. In like manner should a paymaster have 
notice what he is to pay his servant ; but our congressional " servants 
of the people " propose, it would appear, both to carry the bag, and 
to help themselves to what is put therein. It is morally wrong, as 
well as politically inexpedient, that a congressman should have the 
power of altering his own pay, for the same reasons that have caused 
its absolute prohibition to the President ; and the Constitution should 
be amended so as to prevent it m future, by adding to the first sen- 
tence of the first paragraph of the sixth section of the first article 
the words given below in Italics, which would cause that sentence 
to read as follows : " The senators and representatives shall receive 
a compensation for their services, to be ascertained by law, and paid 
out of the treasury of the United States ; and which shall neither be 
increased nor diminished for any senqtor or representative during the 
period for which he shall have been elected.'^'* This would allow full 
swing to patriotic restitutions by those feeling themselves overpaid. 



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The Examiner. 221 

There are suflScient and substantial reasons for the re-enactment of 
the repealed free exchange and free home circulation laws. This 
repeal is a positive advance in a tendency — already obvious, and, for 
various reasons, bad — towards an extinctiob of local newspapers to 
make room for large monopolizing city newspapers. Accordingly, 
anybody who has observed the opinions of the press on the repeal 
will recollect, that, the larger and more powerful the paper, the more 
decidedly did it approve the repeal. It has long been an established 
policy of the great city papers to set forth the duty of the local papers 
to scrape together their local news, and leave great affairs to great 
men. It is natural that a city newspaper manager should covet a 
large circulation and great influence. It is his very obvious policy 
to make the country papers mere local reporters for him. The only 
thing he would like better would be to discontinue them entirely, 
add their circulation to his, and substitute a local correspondent, or 
occasional reporter, for the local editor. A curious phenomenon, of 
late frequently observed in divers quarters, is another instance of 
this same policy : Newspaper after newspaper, ** local " or '* provin- 
cial," will be found, having in its telegraphic column an item like 
the following : " " The New York Blowgun ' of to-morrow will say 
so and so ; " and then follows a paragraph, not of news, but of 
editorial. This, of course, has a direct tendency to discredit the 
local paper ; for the reader says, " Ah 1 then the important thing is 
not Tvchat my editor says, but what * The New York Blowgun ? man 
savs. I guess I'll stop my paper, and take ' The Blowgun.' " There 
never was a more ingenious device to induce men to cut their own 
throats for the good of somebody else. 

The additional expense imposed by the repeal — twenty, or fifty, or 
a hundred, or two hundred and fifty dollars, or more, a year — is far 
more important in the country than in the city. Money cpsts in the 
country, but time in the city. The powerful city paper with a 
capital of a million or three millions does not mind thousands of 
dollars more or less ; but, in the country, no man — farmer, lawyer, 
or editor — can afford to waste or to lose a single dollar. 

But there is a far more important consideration. The policy of 
centralizing power is the one anti-American policy. The policy 
of maintaining numerous small centres of power is the one heart and 
soul and life of our American social and political order. De Tocque- 
ville's fame rests, in great measure, on his recognition of the impor- 
tance of our local centres of political action. The secret of the ill 
success of all the French republics is simply that they have no 
town-meetings. The local newspaper is the American intellectual 



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222 The Examiner. 

town-meeting. The centralizing metropolitan monopoly may be 
strong at Washington ; but it is in danger of partaking of the 
weaknesses of Washington. It is certainly on the side of Congress 
on the free exchange question : it is for its interest to be so. But it 
is for the interest of the American sort of intelligence and morality 
that the local newspapers should continue, and that they should take 
particular pains to discuss the great and important questions of the 
day ; not to leave them for city papers to discuss. 

The American newspaper doctrine is, Multiply local papers, and 
improve them. It is as distinctly anti- American that there should be 
great newspaper monopolies as great transportation monopolies ; and 
the tendency is even more dangerous, just in proportion as independ- 
ent thought is more important than cheap fares and freights. 

Again : it is just as proper to favor a newspaper in regard to the 
public revenue as it is to favor a library, or a school, or a church, 
or a steamship line, or a public land-railroad. The rule for such 
favors is not a rigid application of a mere theoretic idea, but a com- 
mon-sense view of what is safe and expedient. In proportion as any 
enterprise or investment is of universal importance, and beneficial in 
its aims, in a corresponding proportion should a wise government 
endeavor, within safe limits, to deal liberally with it. And the fact 
that selfish interests may be promoted by granting favors to a church, 
or a library, or a railroad, or the newspapers collectively, is no reason 
for refusing the favors. 

Every means for the diffusion of mental activity, knowledge, and 
morality among men, should b© encouraged by government as far as 
is safe. No more should be charged for letter-postage, for instance, 
than is necessary. In proportion as telegraphing takes the place of 
mail correspondence, it necessarily and properly tends to pass under 
government management. When this happens, it will be the duty 
of government to charge as little for telegraphing as is safe, pre- 
cisely on this principle of encouraging intercourse. It is perfectly 
safe to allow newspapers their exchanges post-free, and their home 
circulation post-free. To do so would directly promote the increase 
and diffusion of knowledge jimong men. This would be done on a 
principle peculiarly American ; to wit, that of decentralization and 
the maintenance of numerous local centres of influence. 



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The InteUeduai Life. 



223 



THE INTELLECTUAL LIFE.* 

Many extracts from this finely 
conceived series of brief essays in the 
form of letters have for some time 
appeared in magazines and newspa- 
pers, very deservedly. They have much 
of the brevity of structure, the direct- 
ness and clearness of expression, the 
pleasant suggestiveness of thought, 
that entitles them to that infinitely 
broad career of usefulness. Two or 
three sentences from the Preface will 
show pretty clearly the spirit of thrf 
work : — 

. . . *5 All who are born with con- 
siderable intellectual faculties are 
urged toward the intellectual life by 
irresistible instincts. . . . The life of 
a wild duck is in perfect accordance 
with its instincts ; but the life of an 
intellectual man is never, on all 
points, perfectly in accordance with his 
JQstincts. . . . The intellectual life is 
always a contest or a discipline, . . . 
The school of the intellectual man 
is the place where he happens to be ; 
and his teachers are the people, books, 
animals, plants, stones, and earth 
round about him. . . . Any man or 
woman of large natural capacity may 
reach the tone of thinking which may 
justly be called intellectual, even 
though that thinking may not be ex- 
pressed in the most perfect language. 
The essence of intellectual living does 
not reside in extent of science or in 
perfection of expression, but in a con- 
stant preference for higher thoughts 
over lower thoughts ; and this prefer- 
ence may be the habit of a mind 
which has not any very considerable 
amount of information." 

All this is capital good sense. * The 
eleven parts into which the seventy- 
one letters that constitute the volume 

* The Intellectual Life. By P. G. Ilamerton. 
WHb a Portrait of Leonardo da Vinci. Boaton : 
Eoberu Brothera. lOmo. Cloth. $2 00. 



are divided are as follows : The Phy- 
sical Basis (viz., of intellectual life), 
The Moral Basis, Education, Power 
of Time, Influences of Money, Cus- 
tom and Tradition, Women and Mar- 
riage, Aristocracy and Democracy, 
Society and Solitude, Intellectual 
Hygienics, Trades and Professions, 
Surroundings. The quaint particu- 
larity with which Mr. Hamerton takes 
aim — like those speakers who pick 
out one hearer, and talk straight at 
him — will appear from the captions 
of one or two letters ; as, " To a young 
man of the middle class, well edu- 
cated, who complained that it was * 
difficult for him to live agreeably with 
his mother, — a person of somewhat 
authoritative disposition, but unedu- 
cated.'' " To a friend (highly culti- 
vated) who congratulated himself on 
having entirely abandoned the habit 
of reading newspapers." 

In short, it is a capital fifteen-min- 
ute book. You can begin almost any- 
where, spend your brief leisure well, 
and stop without loss. 



BUILDING ASSOCIATIONS.1 

The real chief difficulty in all the 
business enterprises which have been 
attempted association-wise is the prac- 
tical and central one of business man- 
agement. A business manager, con- 
ducting a business enterprise under 
the stimulus of making money out of 
it, is a perfectly intelligible phenome- 
non. In theory, so also is a business 
manager conducting a business enter- 
prise under the stimulus of benefiting 
other people by it ; but it is in theory 

1 How to Manage Buildfng Aaeodatlona. A 
Director's Guide and Secretary's Aeeistant. With 
Forma for Keeping the Books and Accounts. To- 
gether with Rules, Examples, and Explanations, 
illustraUng the Various Plans of Working. By 
Edmund Wrigley. Philadelphia: James K. Bhnon. 
Cloth. $2.00. 



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Mr. BryanPs OraUons. 



only. In fact, as society is organ- 
ized at present, it is no more safe to 
expect a missionary cause to produce 
a business efifeCt than it is to expect, 
by going through a georafetrical calcu- 
lation in a box, to fill the box with 
fresh eggs. 

Many a good-looking organization 
for mutual benefit — Phalanx,Co-oper- 
ative Store, Building Association, or 
what not — has begun well, and failed 
entirely for want of this adaptation of 
means to ends. The building asso- 
ciations, of which so many have existed 
in Europe and this country, have en- 
countered a full share of such difficul- 
ties. The object of Mr. Wrigley's 
manual is not so much to instruct 
trained business men how to handle a 
mutual benefit association as to en- 
able a man whose purposes are benevo- 
lent to go through the necessary busi- 
ness operations. Of its two parts, the 
first discusses the various principles 
and modes of organizing and mana- 
ging building associations ; and the 
second is a manual of book-keeping 
adapted to this particular kind of bus- 
iness. It contains abundant practical 
detail for the purpose. 



ment. They are full of friendly emo- 
tion and admiration, and contain 
many graceful anecdotes, and careful 
and sensible criticisms. The book, as 
a whole, is a real and considerable 
addition to our literature. Any one 
who, as happened to the present writ- 
er nearly twenty years ago, has had 
occasion to obtain a verdict from Mr. 
Bryant upon a poetical composition, 
will smile, if he does not laugh, at 
reading the following good-natnred 
passage from the paper on Fitz* 
tjrreene Halleck : — 

" If what I write should fall under the eye 
of any persons of either sex poetically inclined, 
and ambitious of renown, I would strongly 
advise them against sending their yerses to a 
poet for his judgment. In the first place, it 
does not follow, that, because he passes for a 
poet, he is therefore a competent critic; in 
the second place, they may be sure that he 
will have little time to look at their verses ; 
and, thirdly, he will naturally he so desirous to 
treat their case tenderly, that his opinion wiU be 
of little value." 



MR. BRYANT'S ORATION'S.* 

Nineteen addresses : the first five 
funeral-orations on the painter Thom- 
as Cole, the autlftrs Cooper and Irving, 
the poet Halleck, and the gentle- 
man-virtuoso Verplanck ; the rest on 
divers public occasions. The biograph- 
ical ones are extremely interesting 
and genuinely valuable, as able and 
kindly and just estimates of eminent 
men by a competent critic at once 
their personal friend and a man of 
rare loftiness and justness of judg- 

1 Orations and Addresses. By WilUam Cullen 
Bryant. Portrait. New York: O. P. Putnam's 
Sods. 12nio. $2.00. 



MY CLERICAL ^RIENDS.* 

The four papers which form this 
very jolly anonymous Bomanist po- 
lemic purport to be the history (by 
himself) of the conversion of the son 
of a Church-of-England dignitary 
(himself a clergyman) to Komanism. 

They are written by a scholar, a 
man of the world, and a gentleman, 
and are entertaining enough, con- 
taining a good many smart sayings 
and anecdotic matters, and a still 
greater supply of neat digs at weak 
points in the doctrinal and practical 
edifice of the Anglican Church ; 
though there seems to be nowhere a 
denial that that church possesses a 
clergy by virtue of an unbroken apos- 
tolical succession. Underneath tlie 
satire and the merely polemic argu- 

1 My Clerical Friends and their Rdationa to 
Modem Thought. New York : Catholic PabUcar 
tion Society. 12ino, Cloth. ^ 



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225 



ment, there is a sc^d substracture, -* 
an assumption that the Boman Cath- 
olic Church is the true church, that 
the pope is infallible, that private 
judgment is damnable. This sub- 
structure is 80 obvious, — that is^ 
there is so clear an omission to argue 
the real questions in issue, — that, able 
and good-natured and entertaining as 
it is, the book is, in effect, {mmariljr 
an attack only, and secondarily an 
assertfon of faith, without even an 
attempt at constmctive demonstration. 



INNOCENT IIL> 

li. De Oasparin's new book, a 
series of lectures, is especially valu- 
able from its thoroughly Protestant 
tone. The first part contains a 
sketch of the first century of the 
Christian era, from which he passes 
to the fourth century, and a study 
of Constantino. The third part takes 
np the theme of the Middle Ages. 
It affords a most healthy, and, as we 
have said, truly Protestant contrast to 
the brilliant and specious pictures 
of the Middle Ages given by Monta- 
lembert "Do you dare to speak 
to as," Gaaparin asks, " of the poe- 
try of the Middle Ages, the move- 
ment in thought, its liberty, its indi- 
vidnalism ? In the midst of all these 
manrels there is one theory I fail to 
discover, — a free conscience, or self- 
supported intellect What remains 
of a society where this is wanting ? " 
He ventures into a greater defence 
of the Albigenses than modem, even 
Protestant, writers have allowed them- 
selves. He justifies himself in this 
by relating, that, after having been 
too much prejudiced in favor of the 
Albigenses,^ historical writers have 
Men into the opposite extreme. He 

i iMiofent III. Zt SiMe Apostoll<|ae, Con- 
■teoUa. Par le Comte A. de Osspariii. Paria: 
VidnlLeiir. Bottoo: Sdioenbof and If oeller. 
U 



had reason to believe, that while 
this persecuted people were in error in 
many ways, and their asceticism led 
them in a wrong direction, it remains 
to be proved that Manicheism was 
universal or decided among them. 
He brings forward the fact that none 
of their books exist, and that their 
inquisitors alone give their history, 
founded upon vague reports. They 
were reproached with discarding the 
Old Testament It is proved, on the 
contrary, that they possessed it ; and 
the New Testament was found in their 
hands, which could not be said of 
the Catholic populations, their accus- 
ers. Their principal crime, then, re- 
solves itself into their repelling the 
inventions of the Bomish Church, — 
purgatory, prayers for the dead, the 
temporal power of the pope, the 
wealth of tie clergy, every thing that 
was remote from the primitive simpli- 
city of Christianity. As Protestants, 
we should acknowledge, that with 
them arose one of the earliest protests 
against Komanism. The whole life 
of Innocent III., so full of incident 
and action, the crowning period of 
papal sovereignty, is written with a 
careful and impartial discrimination. 



ENIGMAS OF LIFE.* 

Seven thoughtful and remarkably 
independent, candid, passionless, and 
suggestive essays on subjects of great 
and present interest, viz. : — 

'^ Realizable Ideals,'' on some pos- 
sible and practicable sociological im- 
provements. 

" Malthus Notwithstanding," on the 
rules of the increase of the human 
species. 

"Non-survival of the Fittest," ar- 
guing that civilization has at present 

i Bnigmat of Ufe. By W. R. Qrcg. Boston: 
J. B. Osgood ft Go. 12mo. Oloth. 



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Love in the Nineteenth Century. 



(not to deny its good qualities) a ten- 
dency to perpetuate bad strains of 
blood. 

" Limits and Directions of Human 
Development," " The Significance of 
Life/' whose titles define their sub- 
jects. 

" De Profundis ; " queries, rather 
than discussions, as to what can be 
fully understood about religious obli- 
gations. 

"Elsewhere ; " similar queries about 
a future state. 

Almost every thoughtful " general 
reader " will find much that is stimu- 
lating and interesting in all these 
papers. 



LOVE IN THE NINETEENTH 
CENTURY.* 

A HEARTFELT and cordial historiette, 
with abundance of bright thoughts all 
very genuine and healthy. The story 
is enough to string the thoughts on 

— who would want more ? Julius the 
newspaper man meets Clara the 
teacher, both on vacation in the coun- 
try. He is " smart," and she is re- 
served, — oh ! call it reserved, not prim, 

— and he rather precipitately pops ; is 
refused, though pleasantly : they cor- 
respond, and grow sincere ; compare 
views, suit ; he repops, and is accepted ; 
and they organize a defb and happy 
homelet May there be millions I 



MONOGRAPHS.' 
Very pleasantly written and anec- 
dotic reminiscences of eight eminent 
and notice-worthy persons : Suleiman 
Pasha, Humboldt, Cardinal Wiseman, 
Walter Savage Landor, the Misses 

1 LoYo In tbo Nineteenth Oentury. A Frag- 
ment. By Harriet W. Preston. Boston : Bol»erts 
Brothers. 16mo. Cloth. $1.25. 

* Monographs, Personal and Social. 67 Lord 
Honghton. PortraiU. New ToA: HoHftWil- 
Uams. lemo. Cloth. $2.00. 



Berry, Harriet Lady Ashburton, Syd- 
ney Smith, and Heine. The portraits 
woodcuts, — pretty bad. The sketches 
most agreeable reading, intell igent, well 
mannered, pictorial, and often spar- 
kling. Lady Ashburton's bright sar- 
casms in particular are extremely jol- 
ly ; and one wishes one could now and 
then quietly say silly things to her so 
as to '^\^atch it'^ back again. 



OTHER NEW BOOKS. 

FiEST Love. A Comedy, in One 
Act. By Eugene Scribe. Adapted 
from the French. By L. J. Holle- 
nius. New York: E. M. DeWitt. 
16mo. Paper. 15 cents. 

The Parting W0ED8 of Adolphb 
MoNOD TO HIS Friends and the 
Church. October, 1855, to March, 
1856. Portrait. New York : D. Ap- 
pleton & Co. 12mo. Cloth. 

The Sermons of Henry Ward 
Bbecher. Seventh Series : Septem- 
ber, 1871 -March, 1872. Eighth 
Series: March -September, 1872. 2 
vols. New York : J. B. Ford & Co. 
8vo. Cloth. Per voL $2.50. 

The Dead Sin, and Other 
Stories. By Edward Garrett. New 
York: Dodd&Mead. 12mo. Cloth. 
$1.75. 

Cogitationes Vespertine. *' Eve- 
ning Thoughts.^' Book 1. Con- 
taining Dramas, Pen Effigies, Poems. 
By Unicus [William Bush]. Chicago: 
Best & Carson. 12mo. Boards. 

The Passions in their Rela- 
tions to Health and Diseases. 
From the French of Dr. X. Bourgeois. 
By H. F. Damon, MD. Boston: 
J.Campbell. 12mo. Cloth. $1.25. 

Count Kostia : A Novel. From 
the French of V. Chedbuliez. By 
0. D. Ashley. New York : Holt & 
WiUiams. 12mo. Cloth. $1.26. 

All for Love ; on, The utlaVs 



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Other New Books. 



227 



BiUDE. Bjr Miss Eliza A. Dupuy. 
Philadelphia: T. B. Peterson & 
Brothers. Cloth. $1.75. 

Play and Profit in mit Garden. 
By Rev. E. P. Roe. New York : 
Dodd&Mead. 12rao. Cloth. $1.50. 

The Childhood of the World ; 
A Sfmplb Account of Man in 
Early Times. By Edward Clodd, 
F.R.A.S. London and New York : 
Macmillan & Co. 12mo. Cloth. $1.00. 

Ferdinand de Soto, the Dis- 
coverer of the Mississippl By 
Jolin S. C. Abbott Illustrated. New 
York :Dodd& Mead. 12mo. Cloth. 
$1/50. 

Ups and Downs: an Every- 
day Novel. By Edward E. Hale. 
Bo:»ton: Roberts Brothers. Cloth. 
16mo. $1.50. 

Babolain. » By G. Droz. New 
York: Holt & Williams. 16mo. 
Cloth. $1.25. 

London's Heart. A Novel. By 
B. L. Farjeon. Illustrated. New 
Yurk: Harper & Brothers. 8vo. 
Paper. $1.00. 

Jesus op Nazareth: a True His- 
tory. Given through the mediumshipT 
of Alexander Smyth. Chicago: Re- 
ligio-Philosophical Publishing House. 
12ino. Cloth. 

The Knightly Heart, and 
Other Poems. By James F. Col- 
man. Boston: Estes & Lauriat. 
Cloth. $2.00. 

1 go a-fishino. By W. C. Prime. 
New York: Harper & Brothers. 
12mo. Cloth. 

Education in Japan. A Series 
of Letters addressed by Prominent 
Americans to Arinori Mori. New 
York: D. Appleton & Co. 12mo. 
Cloth. $1.50. 

Boston Illustrated. Boston : J. 
E. Osgood & Co. 12mo. Paper. 50 
cents. 

Theisk, a Poem. By E.S.San- 



born. Published by the author. Rock- 
ford, 111. 18mo. Cloth, pp. 52. 

Report on the International 
Penitentiary Congress of Lon- 
don, July 3-13, 1872. By E. C. 
Wines, D.D., LL.D., U. S. commis- 
sioner. With the Second Annual Re- 
port of the National Prison Associa- 
tion of the United States, containing 
the Transactions of the National Pri- 
son Reform Congress, Baltimore, Jan. 
21-24, 1878. Washington : Govern- 
ment Printing Office. 1873. 8vo. 
Cloth. 

Absolute Religion. A View of 
the Absolute Religion, based on Philo- 
sophical Principles and the Doctrines 
of the Bible. By Thomas C. Upham. 
New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons. 
12roo. Cloth. $1.50. 

Outlines of German Litera- 
ture. By J. Gostwick and R. Har- 
rison. New York : Holt & Williams. 
12mo. Cloth. $2.50. 

Life in Danbury. By James M. 
Bailey. Portrait and Illustrations. 
Boston : Shepard & Gill. 16mo. 
Cloth. $1.50. 

Old New England Traits. Ed- 
ited by George Lunt. New York : 
Hurd & Houghton. 16mo. Cloth. 
$1.50.- 

.What to Wear. By Elizabeth 
Stuart Phelps. Boston: J. R. Os- 
good & Co. iGmo. Paper. 50 cents. 

Wit and Wisdom of Gkorgb 
Eliot. Boston: Robert Brothers. 
Square 18mo. Cloth. $1.25. 

Landscape Architecture as 

APPLIED TO the WaNTS OF THE 

West. With an Essay on Forest 
Planting on the Great Plains. By 
H. W. S. Cleveland, landscape archi- 
tect Chicago: Jansen, McClurg, 
& Co. 12mo. Cloth. 

What the Swallow Sang. By 
F. S'pielhagen. New York : Holt & 
Williams. 16mo. Cloth. $1.25. 



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^a0rb jd! |Pr00wss* 



AMERICAN SOCIAL SCIENCE AS- 
SOCIATION. 

DEPAKTMENT OF PUBLIC HEALTH. 

The department of public health 
of the American Social Science Asso- 
ciation was organized anew last Jan- 
nary by the choice of Edward Wig- 
glesworth, jun., M.D., as chairman, 
and I). F. Lincoln, M.D., as secretary. 
It now numbers eighteen resident 
members, and three associates ; most 
of whom are medical men. Six busi- 
ness-meetings have been held, at 
which a variety of investigations rela- 
tive to sanatory science were set on 
foot ; and two papers have been read 
upon special subjects. The first of 
these papers — upon "Pharmaceutical 
Education " — was repeated by its 
author (Prof. Markoe) at the Annual 
Meeting of the Association in May; 
the other — read at a business- meet- 
ing of the department by T. Sterry 
Hunt, LL.D. — is here presented in 
abstract. The paper is itself mainly 
an abstract of part of the recent work 
by K Angus Smith, M.D., on " Air 
and Rain," — a voluminous and ill-ar- 
ranged, but most valuable treatise. 

"air and ventilation.'' 

Composition of the Atmosphere. — 
The most careful analyses of Reg- 
nault and others show, that, in the 
purest air, the quantity of oxygen 
varies from 20.99 to 21.08 parts in 
a hundred. In the streets and parks 
of London, in summer, 20.95 parts 
are found; in crowded court-rooms 



and theatres, 20.74 to 20.65; in 
mines, 20.14. Candles cease to bum 
when the proportion sinks to 18.50 ; 
and breathing becomes very difficult 
when it stands at 17.20. It is some- 
times very convenient to express the 
proportion by stating the number 
of parts per million. In this mode 
of representation, we find that air 
which is proper to be breathed con- 
tains from 209,000 to 209,999 parts 
of oxygen in the million ; and any 
variation too great to be expressed 
in the last three figures is not per- 
missible. 

Carbonic acid (COj) is normally 
present in the amount of three parts 
in ten thousand of atmospheric air. 
More exactly, it varies from 332 to 
341 parts in the million. In the 
streets of London, 380 parts are 
found; in Manchester, during still, 
foggy weather, 679; while in thea- 
tres and crowded work-rooms it is in- 
creased tenfold, — from 3,000 to 3,200 
parts being present. In mines it 
averages 7,850 ; and, in one mine in 
Cornwall, 25,000 parts, or 2^ per 
cent. Pettenkofer found in Muniih, 
in ordinary dwellings by day, 540 
parts of COj ; in partially open bed- 
rooms, 820; in the same rooms by 
night, with closed windows, 2,300 ; in 
schools, 2,000 to 4,100 parts per mil- 
lion. 

It is curious, that the air on moun- 
tain-tops contains more than double 
the proportion of carbonic acid found 
at lower elevations, viz.; from seven 



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229 



hundred to nine hundred parts. This 
fiact is due to the presence of organic 
matters, which become oxidized at 
those Tery high levels, producing car- 
boDic acid. It is doubtless also due, 
in part, to the decarbonising action 
exerted by large masses of living ver- 
dure upon the lower strata of air. 

Id all the above statements refer- 
ence is had to ,the volume, not to the 
weight, of the gases. 

Ewj Carbonic Acid affects Health, 
— Good ventilation implies that the 
air shall not contain more than seven 
hundred parts per million of this gas. 
But the injury done by the presence 
of excessive amounts depends on many 
circumstances. Animal exhalations 
are more distressing, sometimes, than 
carbonic acid ; for we are quite com- 
fortable in winter, in places which 
in- summer oppress us, unless the ven- 
tilation is increased. In sleeping, it 
is of advantage to reduce the quantity 
of oxygen a hundred or two hundred 
parts in the million. The habits of 
men and animals illustrate this fact, 
and suggest that it has become an in- 
stinct, as it were, to correct the stimu- 
lus of pure oxygen by increasing the 
amount of carbonic acid, which, of 
course, is accomplished by simply con- 
suming part of the oxygen. Miners 
do not suffer perceptibly from the hea- 
vy charge of this poisonous gas which 
they have to inhale. The human 
frame is certainly capable of accom- 
modating itself to such abnormal con- 
ditions, just as it does to the use of 
tobacco, alcohol, and coffee, and even to 
the inhalation of sulphuretted hydro- 
gen and the vapors of prussic acid. 

It is incorrect to ascribe the poison- 
ous effects of carbonic acid to the sim- 
ple fact that its presence excludes a 
certain portion of the oxygen requisite 
to sustain life. It is possible to breathe 
for a time in a close chamber contain- 



ing the enormous proportion of four 
per cent : one roust only take a deeper 
inspiration. The symptoms of actual 
poisoning by this gas are not those of 
asphjrxia. The patient, in other words, 
is not " drowned," but is subjected to 
a narcotic influence. It is probable, 
that, if the carbonic acid formed in 
breathing could be removed immedi- 
ately from the air, a person would not 
suffer much from a partial diminution 
of oxygen, except after a lapse of time. 

The carbonic acid and the oxygen 
must, in any case, enter the system 
through the lungs, by absorption into 
the current of the blood. It is proba- 
ble that the physical laws governing 
this process, by which gases are dis- 
solved in a fluid, do not differ greatly 
from those which have been estab- 
lished by Bunsen's observations upon 
water. He has shown that water ex- 
posed to an atmosphere containing 
the normal ingredients, but in vary- 
ing proportions, absorbs carbonic acid 
in a very different way from oxygen ; 
for the former gas is taken up pretty 
nearly in proportion to the amount 
present; so that from air containing 
forty parts in a thousand, forty times 
as much carbonic acid is absorbed in 
a given time as from air containing 
one part in a thousand. With oxygen 
the case is very different. The water 
absorbs rather less from the heavily- 
charged atmosphere than from the 
one which contained a smaller quan- 
tity.. 

These rules cannot be exactly ap- 
plied to the case of respiration. The 
temperature of the water in Bunsen's 
experiments was 68° ; while that of 
the blood is 98° ; and the chemical 
constitution of the blood must contri- 
bute to alter its capacity for absorp- 
tion. 

Eegnanlt and Eeiset found that 
animals could live twenty-four hours 



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230 



Aimriean Social Science Association. 



in an atmosphere containing from 
seventeen to twenty-three per cent 
of carbonic acid, and from thirty to 
forty per cent of oxygen. It is 
presumable that a larger amount of 
oxygen was absorbed by the system 
in these experiments, and acted as a 
stimulus to counteract the effects of 
the carbonic acid. 

Other Impurities. — Carbonic oxide 
need only be alluded to, as a source 
of impurity in the winter season, 
when stoves of bad construction are 
used. Some sulphuretted hydrogen 
is pretty generally present, as evinced 
by the tarnishing of silver. Coal-gas, 
if properly made, should contain none ; 
but sulphide of carbon is almost inevi- 
tably present, which gives rise, by com- 
bustion, to sulphurous acid, produ- 
cing the foul odor characteristic of gas- 
flames. 

The test for organic* impurities 
consists in shaking a certain quanti- 
ty of a solution of permanganate of 
potassa with a measured quantity of 
the air to be tested. The amount 
of decoloration produced in the fluid 
gives a criterion for estimating the 
quantity of organic matter present. 
In a hundred cubic inches of air from 
the Alps, from 1.4 to 2.8 grains were 
found ; in the like quantity of sea-air, 
3.5 grains ; in London air, from 22 
to 45 grains ; and, in air from pigstys, 
from 03 to 70 grains. 

Disinfection is accomplished oy 
Nature in various ways. Plants as- 
similate carbonic acid and some other 
gases. Ozone, a disinfectant of the 
most active character, is generated in 
many ways, especially under the in- 
fluence of the sun's direct rays. Bain 
washes the air clear of carbonic acid 
and other gases, and of organic im- 
purities, which are then brought im- 
mediately in contact with vegetable 
life; and assimilated. 



Animal effluvia remain very long 
recognizable by the smell. A portion 
is slowly deposited, as a sticky film, 
on surfaces of glass and wood in a 
room ; but, if a portipn of air from a 
** close " room is bottled up, it retains 
its odor (of perspiration) a great 
while. 

Flame-Test for Carbonic Acid, — 
When a candle goes out in foul air, 
it is far too foul to be breathed : when 
a candle burns dull, a man feels a 
little depression, which he can over- 
come by taking a deep breath. It is 
not altogether the deficiency of oxy- 
gen that puts out the candle, but the 
absorption of the radiant .heat from 
the flame by the carbonic acid, pre- 
venting the melting of the wax or 
tallow. Steam acts in a like manner. 
If twenty-one per cent of oxygen 
is present, a candle is nevertheless 
extinguished when four per cent of 
carbonic acid is added to the atmos- 
phere it burns in. With three per 
cent of carbonic acid, the candle will 
go out if the percentage of oxygen 
falls below eighteen. Men can work 
for ten minutes at a time in air as 
foul as this. At the top of Mt 
Blanc, a candle burns perfectly, but 
slowly, and with a large blue flame. 

In pure air of ordinary dryness, a 
candle will bum one hundred and 
twenty grains of itself in a certain 
time : if the air contains twenty-two 
hundred parts of carbonic acid per 
million, only a hundred and ten grains 
will be consumed in that time. And 
80 a rude measure of the purity of 
the air may be established. 

Minimetric Analysis is a method 
for estimating the quantity of carbon- 
ic acid in the atmosphere by ascer- 
taining how small an amount of the 
air will give a precipitate, when shaken 
up in a bottle with half an ounce of 
lime-water. In applying this test, 



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231 



boHles of given sizes are used, into 
which air is forced by a bellows : 
the above quantity of lime-water is 
introduced with a pipette: and the 
bottle is stopped^ and well shaken. 
Wlien the precipitate indicated by a 
slight turbidity of the water occurs 
in a bottle holding ten ounces and a 
half, the air contains six-tenths of 
one per cent carbonic acid, — six hun- 
dred parts in the million, — and may 
be called a practically pure air ; but, 
if the precipitate can be produced by 
the quantity of air which a nine-ounce 
bottle holds, the air contains seven- 
tenths of one per cent. The follow- 
ing table gives the tests for carbonic 
acid up* to the proportion of one per 
cent: — 

(^pAcityof. Percent Capacity of Percent 
bottles. CO» Bottles. CO» 



»^ox OT 



8.!'.! 



M 
.05 
.00 
.07 
.06 
.09 



a^ox 1 

3« Jt 

2H 3 

2 4 

IM 

i}i .8 

IHo 1.0 



Ventilatioru — In ordinary cases 
carbonic acid is what we have to get 
rid of. One twenty-fifth of one per 
cent is a normal quantity : five times 
that, or one-fourth per cent, affects a 
candle, as tested by the photometer. 
The human frame is apparently less 
sensitive ; and we do notifeel the pres- 
ence of three or four times the normal 

' quantity of this gas, although the or- 
ganic exhalations that often accompa- 
ny it may compel us to ventilate for 

the sake of comfort 

A man would expire a quantity of 
carbonic acid in an hour sufficient to 
impregnate a thousand cubic feet of 
air to the extent of one twenty-fifth 
of one per cent (.(H p.c.) ; but, as the 
air already holds that amount in a 
normal state, he will, of course, expire 
sufficient to raise the percentage of 
two thousand cubic feet from .04 to 



.06, which we have stated to be the 
limit that ought not to be passed: 
therefore we must supply two thou- 
sand cubic feet of firesh air hourly per 
man. Donkin's estimate of the car- 
bonic acid given off is one-half greater 
than the above : he therefore states, 
thai three thousand cubic feet per man 
are required. De Chaumont concludes 
that our standard of purity ought not 
to be lower than .06 ; and, assuming 
Smith's estimate to be Correct, we 
ought to add one-half to the number 
of feet stated by him, and demand 
that three thousand cubic feet per 
man be introduced hourly. This ad- 
dition is made on account of the fact 
that the gases diffuse themselves very 
slowly and unequally, and, when the 
draught is.strong (as in a small room), 
not at all. If, now, we could change 
the air of a room at the rate of once 
every ten minutes, we should renew 
the air six times in an hour ; and each 
man, if allowed five hundred cubic 
feet of space, would get his three 
thousand cubic feet of air per hour. 
But the fact is, that such rapid ven- 
tilation is not to be expected ; and the 
least space that it is safe to allow per 
head is a thousand feet. To provide 
for the supply of three thousand feet 
per hour, so that the velocity of the 
current at the point of entrance shall 
not exceed five feet per second, forty- 
eight square inches of total inlet and 
outlet area should be provided. In 
cold weather we can endure much 
more than .08 per cent of carbonic 
acid ; and this is an important point 
in our cold climate, when the air must 
be warmed before it is introduced. 

Foul air, when generated by the 
body, is apt to ascend on account of 
its warmth. The same is true of the 
gases (including sulphurous acid) 
which are formed in the combustion 
of coal-gas. Of this fact the books 



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Indian A fairs. 



in the library of the British Mnseum 
furnish an illustration ; the bindings 
of the backs of those in the upper 
part of the room having rotted more 
or less from impregnation with the 
acid just named, which was imbibed 
by the leather from the atmosphere. 
This consideration is of importance 
in deciding where the ventilation- 
holes shall be put. 



INDIAN AFFAIRS.* 

These two reports are printed by 
the General Government, and are well 
enough set up ; though footnotes and 
papers of details, if intended to be read, 
ought to be in type uniform with the 
text, even if the text should be less 
conspicuous. The argument of the 
eyes : changes are hurtful. 

For hundreds of blunders in spell- 
ing, grammar, rhetoric, taste, the print- 
er is not responsible. They were 
made in the manuscripts by men select- 
ed for work rathfer than for scholar- 
ship ; and by some well-educated men 
amidst hurry, noise, inconvenience; 
by some in magnifying their own 
works, in rising into rapture, or in 
tumbling into pique and prejudice. 

The first book is the report 9f the 
salaried commissioner of the Bureau 
of Indian Affairs to his immediate su- 
perior, the Secretary of the Interior, 
and is chiefly interesting for the sta- 
tistics and hints of history given of the 
tribes and bands in detail. A book 
of 471 pages, it might be reduced to 
200, without sacrificing any thing 
worthy of circulation to the average 
reader of documents. 

Men want facts, results, more than 
methods and journals and complaints 
and self-gratulations ; and the Bureau 

1 Report of the Commissioner of Indian Attain, 
1872 ; and 

Fourth Annual Report of Board of Indian Com- 
miMloners, lb72. 



ought to save the country the expense 
of printing Gen. Howard's wordiness, 
and the multitude of reports of agents 
and of special commissioners. How- 
ever much an agent, or a commissioner 
on special duty, may enjoy seeing his 
brightness and his errors darkle to- 
gether in governmental type, and how 
much soever the small circle of the 
writer's friends may be interested in 
his performance, the best place, un- 
doubtedly, for such matter is the pi- 
geon-hole, whence it can be drawn for 
the press whenever needed. Excepting 
cases of rare interest, from uncommon 
difficulty or marked improvement, the 
report of one agent is an example of a 
hundred. Indeed, if Emerson's ad- 
vice had been followed generally in 
this volume, " Write what yo.u know," 
even the commissioner's work would 
probably have occupied much less than 
105 pages. Still — with all his fond- 
ness for the verb "depredate," for 
" ranch," "rancheria," " canon," " offi- 
cials," "little rift" of settlement 
"sporadic acts of outrage," with the 
clumsiness of " to the 96*^ west lon- 
gitude " (an ordinal number), &c. (p. 
33), of the Winnebagoes being 
" wholly disconnected with that out- 
break" (p. 27), of "that all lawless- 
ness is not confined to Indians " (p. 
23), of " provision 7aill still require to 
be made by law" (pp. 13, 7), of 
" small-arms fire of squibs " — he has 
given us really praiseworthy para- 
graphs on "The Claims of the In- 
dian " (p. 10). I quote two. 

" The people of the United State? can 
never, without dishonor, refuse to respect 
these two considerations: Ist, That this 
continent was originally owned and occu- 
pied by the Indians, who have on this 
account a claim somewhat lai-ger than the 
privilege of a hundred and sixty acres of 
land, and ' find himself in' tools and 
stock ; which is granted as a matter of 
, course to any taewly-anived foreigner 



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233 



^10 declares his intentioii to become a 
citizen ; that something in the nature of 
an endowment, either capitalized or in 
the form of annual expenditures for a 
series of years, for the benefit of the In- 
dians (though at the discretion of the 
government as to the specific objects), 
should be provided for every tribe or 
band which is deprived of its roamins 
privilege, and confined to a diminished 
reservation : such an endowment being 
not in the nature of a gratuity, but, in 
common honesty, the right of the Indian 
on account of his original interest in the 
soil 2d, That inasmuch as the progress 
of oar industrial enterprise has cut these 
people off irom modes of livelihood en- 
tirely sufficient for their wants, — and for 
"which they were qualified, in a degree 
which has been the wonder of more civi- 
lized races, by inherited aptitudes and by 
long pursuit, — and has left them utterly 
without resource, they have a claim, on 
this account again, to temporary support, 
and to such assistance as may be neces- 
sary to place them in a position to obtain 
a livelihood by means which shall be 
compatible with civilization. . . . 

** Can any principle of national morali- 
ty be clearer than that — when the ex- 
pansion and development of a civilized 
race involve the rapid destruction of the 
only means of subsistence possessed by 
the members of a less fortunate race — 
the higher is bound, as of simple right, to 
provide for the lower some substitute for 
the means of subsistence which it has de- 
stroyed?" 

Could such sentiments but be fol- 
lowed, and faithfully pushed into prac- 
tice, instead of practically dying where 
the ink dried ! 

See how an Indian may flourish 
with the will and the opportunity I 
^An instance is furnished from the 
Tuscarora reservation, of one Indian 
who realized a profit of over two thou- 
sand dollars on the sale of peaches 
alone during the past year." Again : 
" Favorable reports are given of the 
annnal fairs held upon one or more 
of the reservations, at which the dis* 



plays of fruits, home-manufactures, 
&c., were quite creditable." 

Among the tribes of the Indian 
Territory, he pays this coiripliment to 
the Caddoes: "The Caddoes rank 
among the best Indians of the conti- 
nent, and set an example to the other 
bands affiliated with them worthy of 
being more generally followed than it 
is. In physique, and in the virtues 
of chastity, temperance, and industry, 
they are the equals of many white 
communities." 

The Cherokees generally deserve a 
good record. They naturally enough 
took their great sin, negro-slavery, 
from the whites nearest them, and 
followed their sinning neighbors into 
the mill which ground slavery into 
powder. Now they take the other 
" white man's road," and with their 
neighbors, the Choctaws and other 
long-settled Indians^, are making hope- 
ful efforts to acquire property and 
information. The statistics look well 
for them. Those of the Cherokees 
alone are : population, 18,000 (8,955 
males, 9,045 females) ; schools, 60 ; 
teachers, 62; pupils, 2,032 (1,063 
males, 969 females) ; wealth in indi- 
vidual property, horses, cattle, sheep, 
buildings, $4,995,055. Only approxi- 
mate accuracy, however, can be expect- 
ed even in the statistics of the most 
improved tribes : how * vague must 
they be regarding the wild bands of 
Sioux, Apaches, Utahs, which are 
seldom seen in entire bands, never 
as whole tribes ! The population of 
the Cherokees, for instance, turns out 
a singularly round number, which 
even the Indian Commissioner dis- 
trusts; though it is an exceptional 
case. Still, allowing an error in sta- 
tistics as great as twenty-five per cent, 
which is a safe allowance for exag- 
geration in the local estimate of 
the population of Western cities, the 



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Vidian Avoirs. 



Cherokees would make a credita- 
ble exhibit. Keep away squatters 
and desperadoes, and these Indians 
will soon make ample provision for 
their largest needs. Statistics run 
to a point, and drop off, wlien you in- 
quire about the Southern Bannocks, 
Manaches, She-be-reechers, and Clat- 
sop " renegades." Why should they 
not ? IIow could they stick to such 
names ? The statistical anticlimax, 
then, may be, from the Six Nations 
to tlie Clatsop renegades. Neverthe- 
less the tables — beginning at pp. 
68, 383, with the recapitulation on 
pp. 416, 417 — are convenient and 
interesting ; though one looks in vain 
for a list of superintendents and agents. 
Tables of lands, stocks, incomes, afford 
little help to one who inquires what 
part of their nominal dues the Indi- 
ans actually receive. 

The commissioner estimates the 
number of Indians " within the limits 
of the United States, exclusive of 
those in Alaska" at, approximately, 
300,000; of whom, regarding their 
^* antecedents and traditions," 97,000 
may be accounted civilized, 125,000 
semi-civilized, 78,000 "wholly bar- 
barous." 

The erratum after the titlepage 
ought to have a companion from p.94. 
The " slight skirmish " in New Mexi- 
co took place' not at Aliquien, but at 
Tierra Amarilla; and one soldier was 
shot in the leg, while one Indian was 
reported killed, and a Mexican herder 
was murdered by the retreating Indi- 
ans (see p. 299). 

Tije Apaches who stay with the 
Muache Utahs at the Cimarron 
agency are all Jicarilla Apaches, — a 
confusion of names ; and the commis- 
sioner would find the mere pursuit of 
Indians bred among the mountains a 
bootless chase with heavy, corn-fed 
horses. The " grass-fed ponies " woul4 



scud away in the rare atmosphere over 
steeps which '* American horses " 
could not climb ; and would find time 
enough, scattered and concealed in the 
valleys, to refresh their "flabbiness," 
and save their "paltriness" from en- 
tire contempt. Mountain grasses are 
very nutritious (p. 81). 

" The Executive " did not originate 
the plan of religious management of 
agencies. The Friends gave him the 
suggestion, and illustrated its advan- 
tages (p. 72). 

The statements regarding the Utes, 
or Utahs, are not without inaccuracies 
and exaggerations. The Muaches and 
Capotes undoubtedly have received 
annuities and provisions in* limited 
quantities as " benefits," both at Den- 
ver, and at the spurious Los Finos 
agency; and, at the latter, the 
We^minuches and even Jicarilla 
Apaches have shared with the Tdh- 
be watches. The treaty of 1808 pro- 
vides for the Muaches, Capotes, and . 
We^minuches, as well as for the 
Tab be watches. The reservation be- 
longs to all Utahs who will use it, — 
all east of Utah Territory. 

The commissioner does not state 
how culpably remiss the government 
is in allowing miners to trespass upon 
a reservation which the treaty of 1868 
expressly forbids unauthorized whites 
from even passing over ; and he gives 
the popular exaggeration of the size of 
the reservation. To crowd the Indian, 
and wink at trespassing, is popular — 
with white barbarians (see attempts 
to " extinguish " titles and rights of 
Utahs and Shoshones, pp. 89, 90, 
where the government ought first to 
have extinguished the miners and 
squatters). In one short article the 
fancy-prices of Navajo blankets, and 
many other little matters, cannot be 
touched ; but, if the affairs of the Utahs 
are so darkly treated, what may be 



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the general trustworthiness of the 
hook? 

Looking at the hottom of p. 3, and 
t)ie top of p. 8, I am reminded of a 
statement hy a hreyet major who had 
been in Arizona and South-western 
Xew Mexico among these " treacher- 
ous and vindictive Apaches/' to this 
effect : Some years ago, the father of 
Cochise was induced to go into a mili- 
tary encampment. The oflBcer in 
charge showed the chief a tent, in 
which he would "be safe if he kept 
still.'* The soldier left to guard him 
— the oflScer out of sight — pricked 
the chief through the tentcloth with 
his bayonet, and then shot him for 
starting up, on the pretence that the 
Indian was going to run away. How 
many sons of white men, especially 
on the rough frontier, would not seek 
retaliation at any cost ? And should 
Cochise be lamb-like and forgiving? 
The story of the Apaches has two 
sides. We seldom hear what they 
suffer; mostly how .they retaliate,^ 
'• murder, and rob." 

On pp. 8, 9, is matter not so rough. 

'^ It must be considered that the 
Indians of the plains have, up to a 
recent date, really believed that they 
outnumbered the whites. How, in- 
deed, should they have thought other- 
wise ? Most of them had, at one time 
or another, seen as many as five thou- 
sand, some as many as ten thousand, 
of their people camped together, one- 
third fighting-men. Of the whites 
what had they seen ? A few ranches 
miles apart, a few hunters and trap- 
pers, a few soldiers. The stories that 
had been brought to their ears of a 
country where the whites were like the 
sand on the seashore, where houses 
were piled on top of houses" [houses 
of several stories], " and where houses 
stood side by side with houses for miles 
in every direction, were received by 



them as the merest fables invented to 
amuse or deceive them. Even when 
the first delegations that visited the 
East, though composed pf their own 
trusted chiefs and braves, returned, 
and reported what they had seen, they 
were not believed; but it was said 
among their tribes that the white men 
had put 'bad medicine' upon their 
eyes to make them see things that did 
not exist It has only been the con- 
current testimony of many chiefs and 
braves out of many bands and tribes, 
that has dissipated this happy conceit 
of the Indian of the plains, and made 
him appreciate, as he is beginning to 
do, the power and resources of the 
whites." This is the effect of delega- 
tions to Washington and other cities. 

"By act of March 3, 1871, it was 
declared Hhat hereafter no Indian 
nation or tribe within the territory of 
the United States shall be acknowl- 
edged or recognized as an independ- 
ent nation, tribe, or power, with 
whom the United States may con- 
tract by treaty;'" and, practically, 
"since 1868, no Indian treaty what- 
ever has been ratified." 

The numbers connected with reli- 
gious denominations by allotment of 
the President are thus estimated : — 



Denominations. 


Agen- 


No. OF In- 




CIE8. 


dians. 


HickBitc Friends, 


6 


6,598 


Orthodox Friends, 


10 


17,724 


Baptists, 


6 


40,800 


Presbyterians, 


9 


38,009 


Christians, 


2 


8,287 


Methodists, 


U 


64.473 


Catholics, 


7 


17,856 


Reformed Dutch, 


6 


8,118 


Congregationalists, 


8 


14,476 • 


Episcopalians, 


8 


26,929 


A. B. C. F. Missions, 


1 


1,496 


UnitarUns, 


3 


3.800 


Lutherans, 


1 


273 




73 


238,899 



Let no denominational enthusiast 
indulge in boasting of so many thou- 
sands of Indian converts. 'I hey would 



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236 



Indian AJmrs* 



generally like a little bread and wine ; 
but the ffreat majority of tbem is not 
prepared to take these things as sacra- 
ments. Why have the Universalists 
no assignment ? The President ought 
still to have room for them. 300,- 
000—238,899 — 61,101 Indians not 
included in the above statement : yet 
25,000, by estimate, have no reser- 
vation; and 30,000 others are but 
little under the control or patronage 
of the government 

The second of these reports, direct- 
ly to the President, is made by the 
Voluntary Board of Ten Special Com- 
missioners, of which Felix R. Bru- 
not of Pittsburg is chairman, Thomas 
K. Cree of Washington secretary. 
The Board has no direct connection 
with the Indian office, nor any official 
subordination to the Secretary of the 
Interior. Its work is advisory and 
pacificatory; while its members are 
privileged to visit agencies, and ex- 
amine accounts; and are sometimes 
clothed with discretionary power to 
negotiate with Indians, and correct 
abuses. The Executive Committee no 
longer audits the accounts of the In- 
dian office ; though the Committee on 
Purchases aids the Commissioner of 
Indian Affairs in the purchase of an- 
nuity-goods and provisions. Since the 
establishment of the Board, many 
financial abuses have been corrected. 
The weight of beeves for the Sioux 
Indian district in 1868 and 1869 was 
made to average from 1,500 to 2,000 
pounds. In 1872 the average dropped 
to 1,150 and to 1,000 pounds. In 
1870 contracts for 27,850,000 pounds 
beef amounted to $1,222,615; but in 
1872 the same number of pounds cost 
only $764,804: a saving of $457,810. 
Flour at "a remote agency" was 
turned in at $14 a sack (a sack con- 
tains half a barrel, or 98 pounds) ; but 
the committee rejected the voucher. 



The next lot was put at $11 ; "and 
the same agency is now supplied by 
contract after public letting, at $4.90 
and $5.90 per sack." Reductions 
might be cited which are not report- 
ed ; but these are sufficient examples. 
The index and tables are convenient 
in this book. 

A striking comparison of territo- 
rial statistics occurs on p. 13, whence 
" the Indian Territory, in population, 
number of acres cultivated, products, 
wealth, valuation, and school-statistics, 
is equal to any organized Territory of 
the United States, and far ahead of 
most of them. It baa a smaller area 
than any other, and a larger popu- 
lation than any excepting Utah and 
New Mexico. ... It raises six times 
as many bushels of the grains as any 
other Territory ; and the value of its 
live stock is almost five millions of dol- 
lars." Again : " The partially civil- 
ized tribes, numbering about 50,000 
souls, have, in proportion to popula- 
tion, more schools and with a larger 
average attendance, more churches, 
church-members, and ministers, and 
spend far more of their own money for 
education, than tbe people of any" 
[other] "Territory of the United 
States. Life and property are more 
safe among them, and there are fewer 
violations of law, than in the Ter- 
ritories. Specimens of the cotton- 
crop of 1872, exhibited in St. Louis, 
drew three premiums of $500, $25^), 
and $100." 

The testimony to the capacity of 
Indians for improvement and civili- 
zation is overwhelming ; and yet the 
greedy frontiersman says, "An Injin 
ain't no better 'n a cayote " (see pp. 
178, 179 : Judge Swan and Gen. Sully 
on Capacity of Indians). 

"Almost the only impediment" to 
working among the Cherokoes is, that 
"nearly all who do not speak English 



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237 



read and write the Cherokee in the 
character invented by Sequoyah ; " 
and, '* though such may learn to read 
and write English, they do not under- 
stand it ; and the work of teaching 
them is lost for lack of a manual of 
translation/' 

In this report are many little errors, 
with some not so small. A merely 
English reader would pronounce ure 
your ; bat the spelling is Mexican : and 
Qordy, head chief of the Utahs, would 
not know his name spoken otherwise 
than Ooray. Numbers must often be 
mere guesses; and altitudes, when 
not guesses, are chiefly barometric 
approximations. Distances are accord- 
ing to one's freshness and another's 
weariness, or according to the activity 
of horses and mules. Several of the 
documents and quotations have no 
c^sciousness of time nor of place; 
such as extracts, and accounts of visits 
of Indian delegations. Puncha is not 
Poncha; Cochetope is not Cochetopa; 
Guero Mudo is not Guero Murah, 
&c. That " an Indian used to be one 
of your great fathers at Washington " 
might present to a person unfamiliar 
with the drift of talks various ques- 
tions of transmigration and of father- 
hoo<l (p. 87). Too much printing of 
council talks, of untranslated Indian 
names, and of missionary extrava- 
gances, prevails. 

A serious mistake at the conference 
with the Utahs was the mixing of 
commissions.- Three special commis- 
sioners to negotiate for land, and the 
chairman and secretary of the hoard 
of special commissioners (both parties 
from the same " great fatlier," Grant, 
yet each with something apart from 
the other to say) ; and both parties 
talking attliosaroe session, — would 
confound Congress itself: how much 
more the Utah who wants to talk 
itraiglUj and clear one thing before 



touching another I Another mistake, 
not to say abuse, was the sending of 
the greatest enemy of the Utahs to 
treat with them in the person of an 
officer who regarded governorship and 
superintendency of Indian affairs as 
incompatible offices. The negotia^ 
tion failed, as it ought even on other 
grounds than these. Trespassing of 
miners, whom the treaty excludes from 
their reservation, failure of the govern- 
ment to mark the lines of the reser- 
vation, frequent changes of agents, 
uncertainty regarding the permanen- 
cy of the treaty and of the agency, and 
the annual war-howl of the borderers, 
are not good arguments by which to 
induce a sensible Indian to part with 
the best portions of his reservation. 
The old complaints of tardiness of an- 
nuities and supplies, encroachments 
of white men, corruption of Indians 
with whiskey and venereal diseases, 
are continued in this volume ; and in 
many instances the law is powerless 
to remove the occasions of such com- 
plaints. 

" The agent and two others " [from 
the Blackfeet agency] "followed a 
parfy with five six-horse wagon-loads 
of whiskey, which they were carrying 
across the reservation into the British 
Possessions, where, at a town called 
Hoopa, it is traded to the Indians. 
The profit of this disreputable business 
is immense. A pint of whiskey is the 
amount given for a robe, and a gallon 
of whiskey for a horse. This party, in 
which there were eleven men, defied 
the officers of the law ; and although 
they were known, and could have since 
been arrested, it was not done, as it 
would have been impossible to convict 
them, even with the fact of their 
carrying the whiskey proven." 

Last September Commissioner 
Brunot " found the citizens of South 
Pass much excited over a reported 



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Indian Afair9. 



raid of some three hundred Cheyenne 
and Arrapaho warriors. All the availa- 
ble men, with a howitzer from Camp 
Stambaugh, were engaged with them." 
Yet all the fight, in fact, was be- 
tween seven cavalrymen and eleven 
other whites, four miles from. Stam- 
baugh; each party for two hours 
thinking that the other was of In- 
dians! Two citizens were missing 
from a settlement; and the eleven 
were in search of them. The two 
missing men returned to Miner's 
Delight in due time, having seen not 
a single Indian. Near Miners ' De- 
light, also, "the Indians had shot 
Johnny Atkins's horse from under 
him." The fact was, that two white 
men shot the horse with supposed in-* 
tent of robbery. " The most trivial 
circumstance, and all the misdeeds of 
whites, are attributed to hostile In- 
dians, although there are, probably, 
none within a hundred miles ; and thus 
a feverish state of excitement is kept 
up"(pp. 112, 113, 119). 

Quaint Stories. — A Comanche 
chief wished to learn whether a com- 
missioner told the truth, — whether or 
not the whites really were too many 
for the Coraanches. Going to Wash- 
ington, he easily counted all the whites 
until he reached the railroad ; then, 
" finding the number growing beyond 
his ability to enumerate, he began to 
count the towns, but soon gave that 
up, and admitted that the whites were 
as numerous as the leaves on the trees, 
and their great cities more in number 
than the tepes i of the Indians." 

Another rests on the credibility of 
an interpreter. Some Comanche and 
other Indians at the Grand Central 
Hotel, New York, concluded, that, 
" when the white men go to sleep, 
the wise spirits come to them in the 
night, and tell them how to make all 

^ Tept^ tent, or lodge. 



these wonderful things,*' — powder, 
guns, steamboats, telegraphs. " And 
then the white men, remembering 
what has been told them, get up in 
the morning and go to work, carry- 
ing into effect what the spirits had 
taught them. The Indians are not so 
favored: therefore their ancestors 
must have done something to offend 
the spirits." 

The secretary of the board recom- 
mends that agents and workmen he 
all married men. If he had spent a 
winter behind the mountains, without 
a mail for six weeks, where Indiana 
would freeze, and their ponies starve, 
if they were caught there by the 
snows, and where the government will 
not even protect an agent in getting 
his mail at a United States post-office, 
he would probably modify his recom- 
mendation. " Employes " are ofteAr 
a choice between verdancy and villainy 
than betwen marriage and singleness: 
almost all are single. 

Men very hopeful, and very desirous 
of good results, oft^n see more than are 
really visible, and unconsciously ex- 
aggerate what they do see. Some- 
thing like magnifying and multiplying 
glasses intrude themselves between 
the eyes of commissioners, of teachers, 
of missionaries, and the works which 
they inspect, or of which they write : 
so the Indian Policy of this admin- 
istration, good enough in theory, is 
magnified in its results ; and so edu- 
cated and Christianized Indians are 
undoubtedly multiplied. How admi- 
rable would the work of civilizing and 
educating the Indians be, if they could 
be trained into good morals, temper- 
ance, industry, scholarship, made men 
and women, without being " convert- 
ed" to some form of sectarianism! 
In many instances, under the present 
system, they have no choice. They 
get the notions of but one sect ; for 



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239 



they have been turned over to the 
agency and the training of but one. 
This plan haa one merit : it is si^mple ; 
and if, through denominational work, 
even with all its narrowness, the civili- 
zation can most practically be for- 
warded — well, a peaceful, sectarian 
Indian is better for the country than 
is a marauder, by incalculable odds. 
Let the government be (as too often it 
is not) faithful to the Indian, and just 
to its agents and teachers ; let it insist 
upon honesty and fairness and prompt- 
ness everywhere ; oblige the whites to 
respect the laws and the terms of the 
various treaties ; abolish its costly su- 



perintendencies, supplementing the 
work of the board of commissioners 
with the help of one or two able, trust- 
worthy inspectors of agency-business ; 
cut out and eradicate the corruption 
which has been more greedy than Cre- 
dit Mobilier, — and Indian wars will 
give place to Indian fairs; Indian 
wardship, to Indian citizenship. 

The ten commissioners are now the 
heart and the head of the "policy/' 
Let the people read what they can of 
their reports ; and, insisting on justice, 
make a change of " policy " too hazard- 
ous an undertaking even for a mili- 
tary president J. K. Trask. 



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' A TALK ABOUT ART. 

Ik a tale with which our grandpar- 
ents were more familiar than we, are 
these words, descriptive of the fash- 
ionable talk of the time : " The whole 
conversation ran upon high life and 
high-lived company, with pictures, 
taste, Shalcspeare, and the musical 
glasises." Now-a-days we have, of 
course, outgrown conversation upon 
high life and the musical glasses, and 
nearly outgrown Shakspeare ; but the 
talk about pictures and taste still 
goes on : and hence this contribution 
to the common stock of knowledge of 
such matters, in the form of a dia- 
logue between Criticus and his friend 
Amicus. The discussion began by 
the mention of the republication of 
'^ Eastlake's Hints upon Household 
Taste." 

C. — Concerning the book, and the 
small-talk about it, I feel as Schiller 
says he felt in regard of virtue, "I 
would that we all practised it, and so, 
God willing, might hear nobody talk 
of it more." 

A, — Yes, that is all very well : yet 
while we are not all virtuous, nor all 
humbugs, does it not show a little 
genuine interest in the thing, when 
it is much talked about? And so is it 
not better that taste in household mat- 
ters should be overmuch talked of 
than not at all ? 

C, — Perhaps. And yet, to judge 
by one result, what mental confusion 
must the book be held responsible for, 
when so-called " Eastlake furniture" 
(made of varnished white pine, framed 
like a frigate, and decorated with bits 
of blue cloth and tacks) is sold here 
210 



as the correct thing, and chain? with 
backs and seats of glazed tiles, to say 
nothing of the parlor walls sewed with 
multitudinous parallel picture-cords to 
a distracting degree, because all prints 
and pictures must now be double 
hung upon two points of support! 
The public reminds me sometimes 
of ^sop's fable of the Miller, his Son, 
and the Ass ; the critics represent- 
ing the old man, the women, and the 
youths, who successively objected to 
their relative positions. One critic 
says, " Do thus ; " then comes another, 
and says, " You should do thus; '' and 
finally appears a third, and declares 
that something else is the really im- 
portant thing: and they all disagree 
in some particulars, or, what is prac- 
tically the same, appear to do so. It 
is only a few years since, that every- 
body bowed down before Kuskin and 
Gothicism ; but now we do not hear 
much of either. All the while, the 
easy-going, thoughtless public follows 
more or less the rules laid down for it, 
without so much as asking why it 
should do so, and, of course, is always 
making mistakes. When will it be 
remembered that nothing is really 
gained through arbitrary dicta such 
as that of Mr. Eastlake concerning 
this double hanging of pictures, and 
his statement that wall-paper should 
" in no case " cover the whole space 
of a wall ? Not that Eastlake often 
injures his own cause thus. On the 
contrary, no book upon art subjects — 
except it be Mrs. Jamieson's works — 
is, on the whole, more free from ped- 
antry. 
A. — And now please descend from 



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A Talk About Art. 



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geneia]izadon to particulars^ and give 
me a few not too devious answers to 
questions I have to ask about some 
special topics treated of by Eastlake. 
In the first place, do you think the 
book of yalue to people in this coun- 
tiy? 

C. — Yes and no. Yes, inasmuch 
as it is evidently written by a man 
who honestly deprecates the careless- 
ness and the affectation which are at 
the bottom of so much house-furnish- 
ing and art-purchasing. No, because 
his avowed prepossession for the com- 
paratively limited field of medisBval 
art) and, more than this, his belief of 
its entire fitness for our own time and 
paiposes are inappropriate to Ameri- 
ca, if not to England. His lament 
upon the decline of knockers, and 
the directions for making picture- 
frames with square joints pinned to- 
gether, are, to my mind, droll illustra- 
tions of this way of thinking. 

A, — But surely you do not believe 
in the ** good-time-coming-wait-a-lit- 
tle-longer" programme, which pre- 
dicts a school of distinctively national 
. art, including architecture ? 

C. — Why not ? Should a century 
or two elapse of imitative experiments 
such as we see to-day, before we origi- 
nate, we shall yet be quicker in prepa- 
ration than the Greeks or the ca- 
tiiedral-building nations were. The 
veritable composite order of architec- 
tore may be ours some day, and '* the 
quintessence of every sprite " heaven 
may have " in little show." Even now, 
oar sculpture and landscape art bear 
certain .marks of their origin about 
tiiem. 

A. — Yes ; and so do our sculpture 
and picture buyers. Call a picture a 
"Corot," a *<Lambinet," a "Rous- 
■eau," not to say a "Rembrandt," 
and what contemporary American pio- 
tore has a chance beside it at half 



the price? Only the other day I 
overheard Nobky descanting upon a 
certain would-be chef-d'cBuvre of the 
French school to a listening friend : 
" Charming color, silvery tone, wonder- 
ful freedom of handling," and so forth. 
I observed he carelessly glanced at 
his catalogue as he spoke. To him 
presently entered Snobky, accompa- 
nying a lady, and directly addressed 
himself to a microscopic examination 
of the same picture before getting 
its general effect, which seemed ec- 
centric ; then falling back to the prop- 
er point of view, and putting his 
head slightly askew, he thus repeat- 
ed the mystic formula to the meek 
little creatuife beside him : " Silvery in 
color, very ; charming tone ; and such 
free handling ! " I had no catalogue, 
nor had I then looked at the paint- 
ing ; but that it was signed and cata- 
logued as a — well, let us say, " Dau- 
bingy," — I would have cheerfully 
sworn by all that is sacred to man. 
How did I know? I had heard it 
all a good many times from persons 
with catalogues, and such as take an 
interest in the comer-lots of land- 
scapes. And yet, thank Heaven I we 
are not all like this. There must 
be somewhere that " small but select 
class "which uses its own eyes and its 
own common sense, while admitting 
its own limitations. 

C. — One would almost think you 
a native artist struggling for prop- 
er appreciation. But indeed what 
Thackeray calls, if I remember, " a 
mean admiration of mean things " — 
snobbishness — is undoubtedly the 
root of a deal of mischief in connec- 
tion with art. Yet one must console 
one's self by remembering that even 
a servile respect for supposed author- 
ity implies the possibility of genuine 
respect ; just as the apparent con- 
tempt for all authority indicates a 



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A TaJk About Art. 



warped honesty of opinion. I say 
apparent contempt, because, when a 
man bluntly gives his opinion that 
the " Greek Slave " is a better thing 
than all the Venuses of antiquity, 
for example, it is pretty certain he 
will justify himself by adding, " It is 
merely a question of taste,'' or simi- 
lar words ; that is, " My taste is as 
good as any man's ; and there is no 
other standard in these things but in- 
dividual liking." But in this justi- 
fication, and such it is, lurks a self- 
doubt ; and in the self-doubt is folded 
a little seed of respect for authority. 

A, — True. Well, some of Mr. 
Eastlake's designs seem to me down- 
right ugly ; and most of tfiem are what 
we Americans can but regard as 
clumsy. For instance, his book-case, 
like a house with roof and dormer- 
window, and notched-plank legs; 
and the side-board, of almost barba- 
rous profile, and its ostentation of 
constructive strength; and his rude 
knick-knack shelf: and not much 
better is the awkward stage-epear 
design for the head of a curtain-pole ; 
and the lumpish bracket, which seems 
hardly equal to its own support, to 
say nothing of bearing its graceful 
but incongruous burden. On the other 
hand, the washstand design, though 
evidently planned to be & joy forever, 
and hence a trifle heavy, is simple 
and appropriate ; and hi^ hall table is 
sensible ; and so are the drawing-room 
ohairs, whose backs suggest the sitter's 
outline. 

C. — Mr. Eastls^e's trouble seems 
to be that of furniture in vogue. 
Every •thing is flimsy in design or 
execution, or both ; and so, with this 
view, he very naturally leans the op- 
posite way, and plans furniture as if 
for Branksome Hall, forgetting that 
it is a great merit oi all mechanical 
construction! that no superfluous 



material shall be used, and of art 
construction, that there shall be no 
appearance of it. There is, however, 
a sort of hob-nailed double-sole-ism 
about the most of Englishmen, which 
is constitutional ; and perhaps, on the 
whole, it is better that arms and eyes 
should suffer than that one's chairs 
should sometimes crumble beneath a 
solid friend. 

A. — But neither alternative is de- 
sirable; and in hot weather, how one 
detests the mere sight of heavy look- 
ing things I and how one feels, with 
Goethe, the happiness of such a pic- 
ture as this, — '^ the laughing maidens 
seated upon light cane-chairs ! " Be- 
cause somo folk are stout, shall we 
have no more light stools and lounges ! 

C, — There is one mistake I am 
sometimes surprised to see made 
where one would least expect it ; that 
is, as an example, to design table- 
ware as if it were furniture, and fur- 
niture as if it were architecture, and 
SQ on ; the designs being good, but al- 
together unfitted for their purpose. In 
the old days, the variety of work to 
which the artist was called sometimes 
led to this ; and latterly the want of 
good designers and. the foolish whim 
for so-called novelties. 

A. — Mr. Eostlake is especially 
severe in this direction, because these 
novelties are so often in bad taste, 
and because they are made costly 
on the mere ground of novelty, bad 
though they be. He repeatedly de- 
clares that good things might, could, 
and should be cheaper than the bad 
4>ne8 ; but, as to how reform may be 
brought about, he appears much puz- 
zled, admitting, as he does, that man- 
ufacturers will not leave the beaten 
paths to make what they regard as 
dubious experiments, and that buyers, 
to save money, take what they find 
ready to their hands. If this is lame of 



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England, where the standard of taste 
is higher than with us^ and where fhere 
are so many buyers who need not con- 
sider cost, our case would seem almost 
hopeless. 

(7. — I am not so sure of that. Our 
manufacturers are bolder and less con- 
servative than in England ; and our 
progress in the direction of art during 
the last twenty years had been, on the 
whole, rapid and encouraging, although 
there is plenty of room for more. Our 
future progress depends mainly upon 
our ability to educate ourselves ; and 
we are awaking to the fact that art 
education is not by any means to be 
overlooked in this connection. Should 
a class of buyers arise in a few years, 
as one result of schools and museums, 
which will insist upon simple and 
shapely furniture, among other things, 
I am sure that mauufacturers will 
quickly meet the demand. And, as a 
beginning, I believe that unpainted, 
turned furniture, of sensible and cor- 
rect forms, would find ready buyers 
to-day. 

A. — But, meanwhile, where will 
you and I get our economical furni- 
ture? 

C. — We will draw our own designs, 
with the aid of artist, or architectural 
friends, or of suggestive books ^uch as 
may be found in the public libraries,* 
being careful to adhere to the sim- 
plest forms and the strongest; then, 
we will get an intelligent carpenter, as 
Mr. Eastlake advises, to execute our 
designs. 

A. — It might require considerable 
time to furnish a house in this fashion. 

(7. — Yes; but what pleasure and 
benefit in the thinking and planning, 
as compared with the ready-made, 
helpless way of furnishing! Besides, 

> VloHet le Duc*8 Dictionary of French Puml- 
tare, Lo>adoD*s Encyclopmlla of Cottage Arohitec> 
tore, and Hope^a Dedgna, are aaeful for thia pur- 



some plain furniture may be picked 
up in auction-rooms and in shops, 
which can be harmonized into the gen- 
eral plan. 

A, — Mr. Eastlake's chapter upon 
English City Architecture is a most 
sensible production ; and here his ideas 
of solidity and permanence are alto- 
gether in place. But it is odd to read 
his complaints of the lack of " eye 
pleasure" in England. One wonders 
what he would say of our cities in this 
respect 

C. — His comments upon weak 
and deceptive building are exceeding- 
ly apropos since our late experiences 
of the disastrous consequences in con- 
nection with fire ; and if we in Boston 
were to follow his suggestion in one 
particular, and forego iron construc- 
tion, — and we are not doing so, — it 
would go