H3ii" : * , : . ^h^\(}'W ' " -.-' :. 1 : ' ?j " - " vlANCIPATIOH P^ : ^>3^^^Rj ''"" ^yf - 1- ^i Wbu^ University of California Berkeley ELIZABETH AND JAMES ABAJIAN COLLECTION OF AFRO- AMERICANA mm mm Sr v'.'l i r -w -^^' '--'^- spf^ "THE) BROTHERHOOD OF MAN." REV. N. B. WOOD (White), Vindicator of the Colored Race and Author of "The White Side ot a Black Subject,'* and his friend, REV. HARRY KNIGHT (Colored). 1. T. THOMAS FORTUNE, Journalist. 2. BOOKER T. WASHINGTON, Educator. 3. Hox. FREDERICK DOUGLASS, Statesman. 4. I. GARLAND PENN, Author, Orator; 5. Miss IDA B. WELLS, Chief Commissioner, Atlanta Exposition. L,ecturer s Defender of the Race. THE COLLEGE OF LIFE OR Practical Self-Educator A MANUAL OF SELF-IMPROVEMENT FOR THE COLORED RACE FORMING AN Educational Emancipator and a Guide to Success GIVING EXAMPLES AND ACHIEVEMENTS OF SUCCESSFUL MEN AND WOMEN OF THE RACE AS AN INCENTIVE AND INSPIRATION TO THE RISING GENERATION INCLUDING AFRO-AMERICAN PROGRESS ILLUSTRATED THE WHOLE Embracing Business, Social, Domestic, Historical and Religious Education BY Henry Davenport Northrop, D. D., Hon. Joseph R. Gay, AND Prof. I. Garland Penn Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1896, by HORACE C. FRY, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. D. C. DEDICATION TO the Great African Race, numbering MANY MILLIONS in the United States of America, from whose hands the shackles of slavery have fallen within the present generation, and whose progress in that short period has astonished the world, and challenged its admiration :- And to the MILLIONS of souls of the same race in the "Dark Continent" to whom those of America will carry the light of Christianity to disenthrall them from the bonds of savagery and superstition . And to yet other millions now groaning under the yoke of "slavery in semi-civilized countries and in the islands of the sea to all the sons and daughters of Ham wherever they are found and whatever their condition We send this Volume with our Greeting Happy indeed should be the African Race in this closing decade of the nineteenth century. From the long dreary night of past ages of barbarism and slavery the darkness is passing away the morning light has broken and the sun of liberty and enlightenment is rising gloriously in the heavens. To these People, among whom the spirit of liberty has so recently been born and over whom the star of hope is smiling; To that Great Nation, which we believe, shall rise like a triumphant Phenix from the ashes which smoulder over the superstitions, the pel - secutions and the barbaric ruins of ages past, This Volume is hopefully DEDICATED BY THE AUTHORS TO THE READER. In preparing this volume for the Eight Millions of Afro-Americans in this country certain well-defined objects were in view, as follows: To advise, encourage and educate the thousands of young people of the race and to inspire them with a desire to better their condition in life by Self-Improvement ; To afford the valuable information needed by the large class of men and women who are engaged in the responsible duties of active life, and to place within the reach of parents a valuable guide for the successful training of their children, and a Family Educator for the Home. With the above purpose in view portraits of many successful men and women of their own race, with sketches of their achievements in life, are given as examples of what may be accomplished through education, patience, perseverance and integrity of character. Many engravings illustrating Afro-American Progress are introduced as object lessons of the great advancement of their own people, impressing them with the fact that they must educate and elevate themselves if they would attain success in life. This volume is intended as a Self-Educator and is in no sense a history or book of biography ; therefore it cannot be expected to include the portraits or mention all prominent men of the race, nor describe all historical events. Sufficient portraits and sketches of successful Afro-American men and women are given as a GUIDE TO SUCCESS, and illustra tions of places, objects and events are given for the purpose of inspiring ambition and as an incentive for the sons and daughters of the race. Some subjects concerning the race, but not concerning Afro-American Progress, have been purposely omitted, as it is believed these subjects are not in accord with the purpose of the book. To the future the race must look forward. Let each individual prepare for it by Self-Education. Within this volume will be found "A College of Life," embracing the following departments : Thirty Years of Advancement, Afro-American Progress Illustrated, Negro Department Cotton States and International Exposition, Achievements of Successful Men and Women of the Race as a Guide to Success. Rules of Etiquette for all Occasions, Marriage and Domestic Life, The Care and Management of Children, Bible Stories for the Young, Household Economy, Athletic Sports, Physical Development, How to be Healthy and Strong: Bookkeeping and Penmanship, Correspondence and Letter Writing, The Correct Use of the English Language, Sentiment and Culture of Flowers, Amusements and Pastimes s How to Organize Societies, Practical Suggestions for Home and School, Masterpieces of Eloquence Selections from the World's Best Authors, and an Encyclopedia of Valuable Information and Important Facts for Reference. iv CONTENTS OF THE PRACTICAL SELF-EDUCATOR THIRTY YEARS OF ADVANCEMENT 17 AFRO-AMERICAN PROGRESS ILLUSTRATED 28 CLERGYMEN AND CHURCHES 28 BISHOP RICHARD ALLEN 28 BISHOP H. M. TURNER 29 BISHOP ALEXANDER WALTERS 30 BISHOP B. T. TANNER 31 BISHOP B. F. LEE 33 BISHOP J. A. HANDY 34 REV. JOHN T. JENIFER 35 REV. JAMES M. TOWNSEND 36 QUINN CHAPEL, CHICAGO 39 REV. H. H. GARNETT 43 REV. RICHARD DEBAPTIST 43 REV. ALEXANDER CRUMMEL 44 REV. ALLEN ALLENSWORTH 44 REV. PIERRE LANDRY 45 REV. AUGUSTUS TOLTON 47 REV. PRESTON TAYLOR 48 REV. EMPEROR WILLIAMS 48 REV. W. D. JOHNSON 50 REV. D. A. GRAHAM 51 REV. M. C. B. MASON 52 REV. J. F. MARSHALL 53 REV. B A. J. NIXON 53 ST. PAUL'S A. M. CHURCH, RALEIGH, N. C... 53 REV. JOHN JASPER 54 REV. E. W. S. HAMMOND 55 AFRO-AMERICAN COLLEGES AND INDUSTRIAL SCHOOLS 56 PROF. BOOKER T. WASHINGTON 60 PROF. J. D. CHAVIS 62 PROF. A. W. MCKINNEY . 64 PROF. T. J. CALLOWAY 64 CLAFLIN UNIVERSITY AND INDUSTRIAL INSTI TUTE 67 CENTRAL COLLEGE OF TENNESSEE 69 OUR EDUCATIONAL PROGRESS 70 SECRET SOCIETY ORGANIZERS AND OFFICERS 71 REV. W. W. BROWN 73 J. J. C. McKiNLEY 73 NAVAL AND MILITARY HEROES 74 TOUSSAINT L'OUVERTURE 74 HON. ROBERT SMALLS 77 COL. JAMES LEWIS 78 CAPT. R. A. PAUL 79 MAJOR M. B. DELANEY 80 THE EDUCATIONAL PROGRESS OF THE AFRO- AMERICAN RACE 81 NORMAL EDUCATION 81 poa ,. 82 ,. 82 ,. 83 ,. 83 ,. 84 , 84 COLLEGE EDUCATION PROFESSIONAL TRAINING THE INDUSTRIES , NORTHERN PHILANTHROPY SOUTHERN APPROPRIATION NATIONAL GOVERNMENT AID SELF-EDUCATION SUPPORT 84 IN NORTHERN INSTITUTIONS 85 OUR BOYS AND GIRLS 85 RISE AND PROGRESS OF AFRO-AMERICAN LIT ERATURE 86 INTERNATIONAL EXPOSITION, 1895 91 NOTED AFRO-AMERCAN WOMEN AND THEIR ACHIEVEMENTS ...,...., 95 MRS. C. A. JOHNSON 97 MRS. CORA L. BURGAN 98 Miss GERTRUDE J. WASHINGTON 98 Miss IDA B. WELLS 99 MRS. W. E. MATTHEWS 102 MRS. KATIE C. DAVIS 102 MRS. N. F. MOSSELL 102 Miss PHYLLIS WHEATLEY 103 MRS. FRANCES E. PRESTON IOC MRS. FANNIE B. WILLIAMS, 107 MRS. ZELIA R. PAGE 107 MRS. MARTHA ANN RICKS 108 THE GUIDE TO SUCCESS Ill HON. FREDERICK DOUGLASS 112 EDUCATE YOURSELF 114 HONESTY . 115 SELF-RELIANCE 117 PERSEVERANCE 118 FORCE OF CHARACTER 120 INDUSTRY AND THRIFT , 121 CARVE OUT YOUR OWN FORTUNE 123 PROF. I. GARLAND PENN 124 PATIENCE 127 MENTAL AN,T PHYSICAL CULTURE 131 BISHOP B. W. ARNETT 131 PRES. S. T. MITCHELL 13* PENNIES SAVED MAKE DOLLARS 136 CULTIVATE YOUR BEST QUALITIES 138 INDEPENDENCE ...., 140 JOHN MITCHELL, JR 142 HELP YOUR FELLOW BE^NG 143 HAVE A DEFINITE AIM 146 SELF-RESPECT 149 BUSINESS FIRST, PLEASURE AFTERWARD 152 NATURAL ABILITY 155 SELF-DENIAL 169 CONTENTS OF THE PROPER CONDUCT OF LIFE. BOOK I. Rules of Etiquette for All Occasions. PAGE "MANNERS MAKE THE MAN" 17 THE TRUE LADY 23 THE TRUE GENTLEMAN 30 INTRODUCTIONS AND SALUTATIONS 35 CALLS AND VISITS 41 EVENING PARTIES 47 DINNER PARTIES 55 ETIQUETTE OF WEDDINGS AND FUNERALS 63 How TO CONVERSE WELL 69 ETIQUETTE OF CORRESPONDENCE 73 PROPER FORMS FOR LETTERS 81 BOOK II. Courtship, Marriage and Domestic Life. MAN AND WOMAN, OR SENSIBLE RULES FOR LOVE-MAKING Ill WHO ARE, AND ARE NOT ADAPTED TO EACH OTHER 121 THE MODEL WIFE 153 THE MODEL HUSBAND 16:> THE ALL-IMPORTANT NURSERY 179 HOME OCCUPATIONS FOR LEISURE HOURS 195 HOME PASTIMES AND AMUSEMENTS 211 HELPS FOR THE HOUSEHOLD 227 HOUSE-BUILDING, OR How TO OBTAIN A HOME 269 BOOK III. How to be Healthy and Strong. HEALTHY DWELLINGS 283 IMPORTANCE OF EXERCISE 291 How TO STRENGTHEN THE MUSCLES , 301 THE FAMOUS GERMAN PAN-GYMNASTIKON, OR SWING AND STIRRUPS 317 HEALTHFUL ATHLETIC SPORTS 327 How TO NURSE THE SICK 351 How TO GIVE AID IN EMERGENCIES 357 BOOK IV. Business Rules and Forms. OF TERMS USED IN BUSINESS 36-5 PAGE BUSINESS RULES AND LAWS FOR DAILY USE.. 371 BOOKKEEPING 373 FORMS FOR BUSINESS LETTERS 401 AGREEMENTS OR CONTRACTS 407 LAWS OF PARTNERSHIP 412 BILLS OF SALE, BONDS AND ASSIGNMENTS 416 DEEDS AND MORTGAGES 420 RIGHTS AND DUTIES OF LANDLORDS AND TENANTS , 427 AGENCIES AND COLLECTION OF DEBTS 434 LAST WILLS AND TESTAMENTS 439 FORM OF CONSTITUTION FOR LYCEUMS 445 PARLIAMENTARY RULES AND USAGES 450 FORMS FOR RESOLUTIONS AND PETITIONS 454 How TO CONDUCT PUBLIC CELEBRATIONS 458 BOOK V. Manual of Practical Suggestions and Useful In formation for the Home and School. ART OF WRITING WELL AND How TO EXPRESS WRITTEN THOUGHTS IN A CORRECT MANNER 461 ART OF WRITING POETRY, WITH PRACTICAL INSTRUCTIONS FOR COMPOSING VERSES 403 LANGUAGE AND SENTIMENT OF FLOWERS 500 CARE AND CULTURE OF HOUSE PLANTS AND FLOWERS 510 CARE AND MANAGEMENT OF BIRDS AND OTHER HOUSEHOLD PETS 526 ENCYCLOPEDIA OF VALUABLE INFORMATION.. 542 SYNONYMS OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE 574 FOREIGN WORDS AND PHRASES IN COMMON USE 594 ABBREVIATIONS USED IN WRITING AND PRINTING 599 CONUNDRUMS 600 BOOK VI. Choice Selections of Poetry from the World's Best Authors. 606 MASTERPIECES OF ELOQUENCE 657 BIBLE STORIES FOR THE YOUNG..., .. 689 PROF. BOOKER T. WASHINGTON, FOUNDER OF TUSKEGEE INDUSTRIAL INSTITUTE AI.A. THE COLLEGE OF LIFE Practical Oelh=Educabor. A MANUAL OF SELF-IMPROVEMENT FOR THE COLORED RACE. THIRTY YEARS OF ADVANCEMENT. THE Hon. Frederick Douglass once said in a great public meeting in New York, " The colored race will not crawl forever in the dust. It is honorable to do whitewashing, but there is no reason why my people should do that and nothing else. Their day will come, and they will be found in all pursuits, achieving distinction and showing capabilities which they never were supposed to possess." A loud burst of applause greeted these words. Douglass stretched himself to his full height of six feet, and with every nerve quivering, exclaimed, " The destiny of the colored race is in their own hands. They must be ir and suffer ; they must toil and be patient ; they must carve out their own for tune, and they will do it." Already the words of the grea. orator and prophet are coming true. Many are the names of Afro-Americans who have distin guished themselves as business men, teachers, clergymen, lawyers, editors, authors, legisla tors and agriculturists. The reader will find in these pages a glowing record of their proud achievements, which should inspire the masses of the colored people to aim high and march onward and upward, by showing them what others of their race have already accomplished. Before giving the biographies and describing the successes of those who have climbed high upon the ladder of fame, let us note the general advancement made by the Afro-American people during the thirty years that have passed since their liberation. For most of the facts and figures that follow, we are indebted to the brilliant Afro-American author, Prof. I. Garland Penn. What the Figures Show. To determine the progress of the race in education it is necessary to know the relative progress in the increase of population since Emancipation, the number who could read and write, and the number who were in school. According to the census reports mere were in this country in 1850, 3,638,808 Afro-Americans. 1860, 4,441,830 " 1870, 4,880,009 " 1880, 6,580,793 1890, 7,470,040 The census of 1 860 shows an increase 17 18 THIRTY YEARS OF ADVANCEMENT. 703,022 in ten years; that of 1870 shows an increase of 438,179 in ten years ; that of 1880 shows an increase of 1,700,784 in ten years; that of 1890 shows an increase of 889,247 in ten years. From 1850 to 1890 the race increased 3,831,232 persons. Schools for the Colored Race. It was hardly considered probable that any considerable number of the freedmen would at once seize the opportunity for im mediate education as they did when the first ray of hope and light beamed upon them from the philanthropic North. Yet the Afro-American at once availed himself of the opportunities which were offered under the Freedmens' Bureau, the first organized effort to educate the freedmen. With this effort came in close succession efforts of the church and those of a general character, so that we now have the following schools for the training of Afro- American youth : The American Baptist Home Mission Society ; the American Missionary Association ; the Presbyterian Board of Missions for Freed men ; the Freedmen's Aid and Southern Educational Society ; the Colored Evangel istic Fund (Southern Presbyterian Church) ; Negro Education and Evangelization So ciety (Christian Church) ; the Educational Society in the United Presbyterian Church ; the Protestant Episcopal Commission ; the African Methodist Episcopal Church ; the African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church ; the Colored Methodist Episcopal Church ir. America; the Colored Baptist Church. In the non-denominational schools of the United States the number of schools for the Higher, Secondary, Normal, Graded and Common Schools' training is about 400. More than one-third of the teachers are Afro-Ameri cans. The number of teachers in the Public School system of the United States, reported by the United States Census, in 1890, was 23,866, and the number of pupils seeking education under the free school system was 1,460,447. Year by year the Afro-Ameri can is becoming more awakened to a sense of duty in respect to the training of his off spring. Taking the census figures for '90 as a basis, and adding the Afro-American teach ers in denominational and non-denomina tional schools, we have a sum total approxi mation of 25,000 Afro-American teachers in the United States with 1,600,000 pupils. The showing as to teachers is a bright ray of hope for the Afro-American's future, when the fact is considered in all of its bearings, that these 25,000 teachers have been pre pared and put into the field during a quarter of a century, very little more than the school life allotted an individual. Very Rapid Advancement. As tc pupils the showing is more remark- able. Five years after the war closed, in 1870, only a tenth of the Afro-American children eligible to school opportunities were actually reported therein. In 1890, we find that within a fraction, ONE-HALF of the eligi- bles are reported in school. Figures can be given to authenticate this statement. In 1870 there were, according to census figures, 2,789,679 persons of color above the age of ten years who could not read or write. If we should make an approxima tion of a million, for persons of color under ten years (which we think every fair minded reader will accept as just), we should have 3,789,679, who could not read or write in the year 1870. With a population of 4,880,009, we should have one and a tenth million of people of African descent, who could read and write in '70. It is unfair to say that the increase from '70 to '95 should THIRTY YEARS OF ADVANCEMENT. 19 be loss than four times that of '70, under great and constantly increasing educational facilities in all the dep\rtments of state and church education. If the reader accepts the statement that the great educational endeavors of twenty- five years in all departments and all lines, justify an increase four times as large as that of '70, we shall have four and four-tenths millions of Afro-Americans who can now read and write. The writer maintains that of the balance of illiteracy, a majority are ex-slaves ; elderly persons who may not read the letter but who are yet intelligent by con tact and association. At least two hundred thousand boys and girls of the race to-day are private students. In a certain city there are ten private night schools in which an aggregate of 300 boys are training in the light of knowledge and education by night, for habits of industry by day. Bishop Atticus G. Haygood says, "The most unique and altogether wonderful chap ter in the history of education is that which tells the story of the education of the Ne groes of the South since 1865." Rev. C. C. Smith, D.D., Cor. Secretary of the "Negro Education and Evangelization Society " of the Christian Church, carefully studies the problem and awakens to find himself making this admission that " The Negroes' desire for education, considering his past environments, is ' The Eighth Won der.' " The Professions. The black man's desire for professional training has been a subject for adverse criti cism. It has been alleged that he is acquiring too much professional training for the support which conditions among the race offer him. The professions in which he is most largely represented, are the ministry and teaching. These claim our largest numbers for many reasons ; prominent among them is the pat ent fact that a people who would rise must have religious and secular training. An admission that these professions for the first few years after the Civil War were besieged, because of the ease by which employment could be obtained in them is, perhaps, just, but for the past ten years these charges are met with the declarations of Conferences, Convent-ions, Associations, Pres byteries, Synods, Superintendents, School Boards, etc., that none need apply except the well-equipped. Of the 25,000 common school teachers in the Union, two-thirds are Normal and High School graduates. The Theological institutions have graduated over 600 preachers, and five times as many left school in their second and third years, who are now in the ministry doing yeoman ser vice. Practice of Medicine. These professions have been again most largely followed for the reason that the facilities were greater, help larger and such training more easily obtained. Since and prior to the organization of schools for train ing of Afro-American physicians, 500 gradu ates in the practice of Medicine have come forth, occupying to-day honorable stations in the medical profession of our common country. There are not twenty-five Afro- American physicians who are failures, either as to their knowledge of medicine or finan cial condition. Their practice takes the wide range of from $1,000 to $5,000 per annum. Their residences are generally the finest and most representative in the towns in which they are located, and they rapidly accumu late wealth because they are skillful and successful in their profession. The Medical Afro-Americans are yearly organizing state associations and bringing their interests closer together. A graduate THIRTY YEARS OF ADVANCEMENT. of Meharry Medical School, now practicing physician at Jackson, Tennessee, publishes a Medical Magazine, known as the Medical and Surgical Observer, while a staff of col ored physicians and trained nurses, manages one of the best hospitals in Chicago the Provident Hospital. In dentistry there are practicing physicians in the South, and also in the North. In Pharmacy over 100 have been graduated. Judges and Lawyers. The profession in which Afro-Americans have met the sharpest opposition and the strongest competition has been Law. There have been graduated from the Law Schools together with those who have taken private courses, upwards of 300, among whom we find men of eminent legal ability, one a Circuit Court Commissioner, several Judges, numbers of Clerks of Courts, several District, Commonwealth and City Attorneys. They are also Deans and Professors of Law in their legal schools, the students of which have not been turned down by any Court or Board in examination. Greater credit, perhaps, is due these advo cates for a successful stand maintained, than is due those of any other profession. Besides sharp competition with white lawyers, open and free before a white jury in a land preg nant with prejudice, the Afro-American lawyer has had also to contend with his black fellow citizens, whose lack of confi dence in the black lawyer is evident, for the reason that prejudice, fear and oppression have been elements sufficient in themselves to arouse and determine a pre-judgment. An eminent newspaper of the South makes the statement that 250 black lawyers in the Union have practice ranging from $ i ,000 to $20,000 per annum. As in medicine so in law, State Bar Associations are being formed in almost every state of the South for legal advice, union and strength. In Literature. Our history shows that prior to 1861, there had been thirty-five works of Afro- American authorship published and sold. In the earlier days of 1 792, America's first poet was Phillis Wheatley, a little black girl, who was brought to this country in a slave ship. After careful education by her white friends, she published a book of poems. The purity of style, simplicity of expression, and refine ment of feeling shown in these poems, caused many to doubt their authorship. This doubt was set at rest by her master John Wheatley of Boston, and the leading ministers of the city. They wrote a letter in which they declared Phillis to be the author of the poems published by her. Near the same time Benjamin Banneker, a Negro of Virginia, made his own measure ments and calculations, and published an almanac. Since 1865 over 100 books have been published by Afro-American writers. They have been mainly histories of the race, autobiographies, poems, and works on science, fiction, religion and general litera ture. A Greek Grammar for beginners, by W. S. Scarborough, of Wilberforce, Ohio, is in use in the schools of Ohio. In Journalism. The first journal published in race interest was Freedom's Journal, issued in 1827, in New York City. At the present time there are over 200 journals and magazines pub lished by the colored people of the country. At a meeting of the State Press Association of Virginia, the statement was made that the Afro-American newspapers of that state owned property amounting to $25,000. At least two-thirds of these publications are THIRTY YEARS OF ADVANCEMENT. 21 made in their own offices and on their own presses. Several of our journalists hold responsible positions on the leading dailies as editors of departments and reporters. Essays, short tories and poems by race writers have appeared in the North American Review, Arena, Harper's, Forum, Atlantic Monthly, Frank Leslie, Our Day, The Independent, The Sunday School Journal of the Metho dist Church, and other magazines of the country. Afro American Churches. Bishop Haygood, of M. E. Church South, very truthfully writes in one of his books that all of the Negro's interest, particularly his social life, centers in his church. The denominations in which the Afro-Americans are most largely found are : Methodist Epis copal, African Methodist Episcopal, African Methodist Episcopal Zion, Colored Metho dist Episcopal Church in America, the Metho dist Protestant, the African Union Methodist Protestant, the Union American Methodist Episcopal Church, the Zion Union Apostolic Church, the Evangelist Missionary Church in America, Congregational Methodist Church, Christian Church, Protestant Epis copal, Cumberland Presbyterian, Presbyterian Church in America, Presbyterian Church in the United States, United Presbyterian Church, Lutherans, Congregationalist and Regular Baptist Churches. The numbers in these denominations are in some instances very large and in others small. The division and separation, particu larly in the Methodist Churches, are upon very slight and inconsequential grounds. Of these denominations there are about 22,000 organizations, 22,200 church edifices, with a seating capacity of perhaps six millions, (since an estimate cannot be made in some cases on account of the absence of separate statistics on this last item). The African Methodist Episcopal, African Methodist Episcopal Zion, the Colored Methodist Episcopal Church in America, the African Union Methodist Protestant Church, the Union American Methodist Episcopal Church, The Zion Union Apostolic, the Evangelist Missionary Church in America, the Congregational Methodist Church, the Cumberland Presbyterian Church and regu lar Colored Baptist Church, own 920 halls with a seating capacity of 78,289. Number of Church Members. The value of the Afro- Americans' church property may be approximated at $22,570,- 882 ; the number of church members, 2,613,154. This estimate exceeds that of Dr. H. K. Carroll, Special Agent for the U. S. Census Bureau on Churches, in the Forum by over two thousand members, for the reason that special care was taken in the separation of Afro-American membership from those of the whites, where no separate returns are given in the U. S. Census bulle tins. The churches built by Afro-Americans are very fine. The Afro-American who makes five dollars per week, usually contri butes a fifth of that to his church. There are twenty-six bishops in the dis tinctively Afro-American Methodist bodies. The general officers are men of ability. Their colleges, normal schools and academies are manned by Afro-American presidents, principals, professors and instructors. Their members contributed for the last eight years over $600,000 for the cause of education, in churches where the Anglo-Saxon and Afro- American are still blending their interests. Four Afro-Americans are at the head of four of the Methodist Episcopal schools, Profes sors hold responsible chairs, and writers are 22 THIRTY YEARS OF ADVANCEMENT. being recognized in the the literary channels of the church. In the Presbyterian Church a similar con dition prevails. At the General Assembly, which met in Washington, an Afro-American President, Dr. D. J. Saunders, was heard in behalf of his school and its endowment, etc. He was there and then pledged $400,000 for the benefit of Biddle University, Charlotte, North Carolina. There are fifty-seven Afro-American Presi dents of Afro-American colleges, denomina tional and otherwise. About $100,000 are yearly contributed or expended in Afro- American education by various societies, denominations, etc., nearly one-half of which is contributed by the Afro-American himself. Many of the largest edifices and finest church buildings are those owned by Afro-Ameri can congregations. "In three large cities of the South (said a Southern man in the writer's presence) the finest churches are ' Nigger' churches." One of the seven finest Sunday-schools in the 27,463 of the great Methodist Episcopal Church is an Afro- American School, the plan of which has been adopted by several leading Anglo- Saxon Sunday-schools. Wealth and Business Interests. The wealth of the Afro-Americans has been fixed by statisticians at the following figures : Alabama $9,200,125 Oregon 85,000 Connecticut 500,155 Delaware 1,200,179 North Dakota 76,459 Florida 7,900,040 Utah 75,ooo Iowa 2,500,372 Chicago, alone 2,500,000 Indiana 4,004,113 Kentucky 5,900,000 Maine 175,211 ^Missouri .,....,. 6,600,340 Minnesota 1,100,236 Montana 120,000 New York 17,400,756 New Mexico 290,000 Nebraska 2,500,000 Massachusetts 9,004,122 Rhode Island 3.400,000 South Carolina 12,500,000 Tennessee 10,400,211 West Virginia 5,600,721 North Carolina 11,010,652 Nevada 250,000 Arkansas 8,ioo,-5i5 California 4,006,209 Colorado 3,100,472 District Columbia 5,300,633 South Dakota 175,225 Georgia 10,415,330 Illinois 8,300,511 Indian Territory 600,000 Kansas 3,900,222 Louisiana . 18,100,528 Mississippi ....... 13,400,213 Maryland 9,900,735 Michigan 4,800,000 New Jersey 3,300,185 New Hampshire 300,125 Virginia . 4,900,000 Ohio 7,800,325 Pennsylvania 15,300,648 Texas 18,010,545 Vermont 1,100,371 Washington 573,000 Wyoming 231,115 The total amount of property owned by the race is $263,000,000, showing a sur prising growth in the accumulation of wealth. This report, which is an underestimate has been accepted as a most remarkable showing. It is an underestimate by at least ten millions. For instance, in the State of Virginia, according to the report of the Auditor of Public Accounts, the Afro- American property in the State was valued at $9,425,578. This is over four million and a half more than the above table. In Texas the property interests of the Afro-Americans are estimated at twenty millions, two millions more than the above table gives. The Comp troller of South Carolina informs the writer THIRTY YEARS OF ADVANCEMENT. 23 that the figures above given for South Caro lina are very much below the real estimate. With these corrections and one or two exceptions the figures are in the main cor rect, and we should have an estimated wealth of not less than $275,000,000 for the Afro- American population of the United States. This added to church property would give $300,000,000. Until the failure of the Penny Savings Bank of Chattanooga, due to money loaned and inability to make collections, the Afro- Americans had five banking institutions. The remaining four art doing a splendid business. There are not less than thirty-five Building, Loan and Co-operative Associa tions on a firm footing and doing legitimate business, subject to the regular state and municipal investigation. Lack of space pre vents the details of the operations, assets and liabilities of each of these efforts. This has been accumulated in spite of the failure of the Freedmen's Savings Bank. This bank was established under the Na tional Government in 1866, with branch offices in the different states. In this bank the colored people deposited in the five years succeeding the war, nearly fifty-seven million dollars. As the result of bad management it failed in 1871, and the savings from the Negro's scanty wages were thus largely swept away. The confidence thus shaken in the outset has never been entirely restored. Tradesmen and General Laborers. Until recent years the Afro-American has had a monopoly of the general trade labor of the South. Of late skilled labor has been the demand, and in many instances he has been driven out of the field, but in every southern city there are Afro-Americans who can do the best work in all trades. The writer knows of an instance in which a very large church was remodeled and a handsome pressed brick front was a part of the improve ment. There could not be found in a city of 22,000 inhabitants, masons who could lay these brick satisfactorily. In response to a telegram four Afro-Americans were secured, and the front was completed. A more beau tiful piece of work of its kind has not been done in the city. One of these men was a graduate of one of our best industrial schools. Supply of Skilled Labor. The dearth in recent years of our mechan ics is due to age, infirmities and death of those who were taught the trades in slavery; but the large and intelligent class of me chanics, who are being sent out from our mechanical schools, men whose heads, hearts and hands are trained, is remedying the deficiency. Nearly 6,000 of our young people are enrolled in the Industrial depart ments of the various Afro-American schools and it is a fortunate thing that nearly all of the large schools of the South now have their industrial departments. Rev. J. C. Hartzell, D.D., Secretary of the Freedman's Aid and Southern Education Society, was heard once to say, "A man said to me, ' I will tell you one thing, you cannot make a mechanic out of a Negro.' I took a wheel out of my pocket and showed it to him. I said, 'There came into our shop at Central Tennessee College, a black young man with no white blood in his veins, who had never seen such a machine before as that required to make this wheel. The manager had a lot of these wheels to make. This wheel must be made very exact ; there must not be the least variation in any of its parts. The manager asked the young man if he could make wheels, and he said he would try. He did try and cut twenty-six hundred of these cogs before he made a. variation, J 24 THIRTY YEARS OF ADVANCEMENT. wonder if there is any other wheel of the kind ever made by a Negro. We are proud, first, that we have such places, and second, because such places are filled up with black boys." This was done in the school of Mechanic Arts, at Central Tennessee College, Nashville, Tennessee. From the same school the writer saw a ten inch telescope exhibited at the General Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Church at Omaha, Neb., May, 1892. This telescope is now in the obser vatory at Laurence University, Appleton, Wisconsin, having been built for that pur pose. Three of the professors' homes at Clark University, Atlanta, Ga., were built by the industrial students. Schools with Industrial Departments. The largest agricultural and industrial features are connected with the following schools : Hampton Normal and Agricultural Institute, Tuskegee Normal and Industrial Institute, Bishop College, Central Tennessee, Claflin University, Clark University, Shaw University, Spellman Female Institute, Straight University, Talladega College, Tougaloo University, State Normal and Industrial School (Alabama) and others. These with others are yearly sending forth skilled laborers who demand a consideration and can easily compete in all lines of indus try, where prejudice does not debar them. Tuskegee Institute, situated in the heart of the "black belt" in Alabama was founded by Booker T. Washington, an Afro-American. From a small one-room beginning he has a school property there of twenty-one build ings, and 1 ,400 acres of land, and this prop erty is valued at $180,000. Of this school, Mrs. A. J. Cooper, in "A Voice from the South," the ablest book yet written by a Negro, on the Negro, says: " la the heart of what is known as the ' Black Belt,' of Alabama, and within easy reach of the great cotton plantations of Georgia, Mis sissippi and Florida, a devoted young colored man ten years ago started a school with about thirty Negro children assembled in a comical looking shanty at Tuskegee His devotion was contagious and his Work grew ; an aban doned farm of 100 acres was secured, and that gradually grew to 640 acres, largely wood' land, on which a busy and prosperous school is located; and besides, a supply farm was added, of heavy rich land, 800 acres, from which grain and sugar cane are the main products. What Becomes of Them. "Since 188 1, 2,947 students have been taught here, of whom 102 have graduated, while 200 more have received training to fit them to do good work as teachers, intelligent farmers and mechanics. The latest enroll ment shows girls, 247 ; boys, 264, Of the 1 02 graduates, 70 per cent, are teachers, ministers and farmers. They usually com bine teaching and farming. Three are print ers (learned the trades at school), one is a tinner, one a blacksmith, one a wheelwright, three are merchants, three are carpenters, others are in the professions or filling miscel laneous positions." The following statement from one of the leading journals of Washington, entitled, " Farms of Negroes ; Nearly all of them are Free from Debt," is of interest as showing that the colored race are capable of thrift and good business management : " It is an interesting fact that of all the homes and farm property in the United States that which is the least incumbered by mortgages is owned by colored women in the South. The statis tics of the census office shows that 27.97 per cent, of all the homes and farm property in the country is mortgaged that is, about THIRTY YEARS OF ADVANCEMENT. 72 out of every 100 homes and farms are free of incumbrance. The percentage of property owned by colored men without mortgages is 88.58, and the percentage owned by colored women without mortgages is 92.26 that is of all the farms and homes owned by colored women in the United States 36,831 are free from debt, and only 3,080 carry mortgages. This percentage is a greai deal better than that of the white race, either men or women. The percentage of mortgaged property owned by the entire Negro population is only 10.71 that is, less than eleven homes and farms o\vned by Negroes in the United States out of one hundred are incumbered by debt, and as an evidence of the thrift of the race it appears that nearly all these mortgages represent deferred payments of purchase money. Farms and Homes. Of the 12,690,152 homes and farms in the United States 1,186,174 are occupied by pure blacks and 224,595 by mulattos. Of the full blooded Negroes 207,616 own their farms and homes and 978,558 pay rent. Of the mulattos 56,672 own, and 167,923 rent. Of the Negro owners 167,705 are men and 39,911 are women. The largest number of colored home owners is found, of course, in the southern states, and it is noticeable that the proportion of farms owned by Negroes in the South is much larger than the homes, while the reverse is the case in the North. "It is also a fact that the proportion of Negro home-ownership in cities is much smaller than in the rural districts. The fol lowing table shows the geographical divisions of Negro property free and incumbered, and the reader will be struck with the large pro portion of farms not mortgaged : States. North Atlantic . South Atlantic . Northern Central Southern Central Western No. of No. of free farms mortgaged farms and homes. and homes. 5,808 3,921 107,084 8,032 20,060 9.691 100,591 7,608 1,204 289 Total 234,747 29,541 Another institution founded by the race is the Provident Hospital, of Chicago. Preju dice because of color has denied our doctors opportunity for practical surgical work, and refused our young women who wish to become trained nurses, admittance to the hospital training schools of the country. Out of this necessity grew the Provident Hos pital, which is owned and managed by colored men. Patients of every color and all creeds are treated by Afro- American nurses and physicians, and the cures there effected have attracted more than local atten tion in the medical world. The training: o school has graduated a number of nurses and has many more applicants for training than can be accomodated. All Kinds of Labor. As a general laborer, the Negro needs no introduction. He has built the railroads of the South, watered and nurtured its fields, reclaimed its swamps, beautified its cities, and caused the waste places to blossom as the rose. Besides what the race has accomplished as general laborers and skilled artisans, it has a most creditable record in inventions. There is not space here to enumerate all the patents that have been granted to colored men, but these are sufficient to show that the race is not deficient in mechanical invention. To one skilled mechanic alone, Elijah McCoy, of Detroit, Mich., fifteen patents have been granted for railway lubricating cups. 26 THIRTY YEARS OF ADVANCEMENT. With most meagre incentive, our race has many amateur artists who possess great native talent, and several who have won recognition for their ability as professionals. E. N. Bannister, of Providence, Rhode Island, had a picture in the Centennial Exhibition, of Philadelphia, in 1876, which was awarded one of the medals of the first class. This picture, " Under the Oaks," was purchased for fifteen hundred dollars by a wealthy Boston gentleman. C. E. Por ter, of Hartford, Connecticut, exhibits in the National Academy of Design of New York, in which city he has a. studio. A Celebrated Artist. H. O. Tanner, of Philadelphia, studied in his native city, at the Academy of Fine Arts, and has exhibited in the art galleries of New York, Chicago, Louisville, Cincinnati, Wash ington and Paris. He spent several years abroad, prosecuting his studies under Ben jamin Constant and Jean Paul Laurens, in the Institute of France. On his return to this country they gave him a letter of recom mendation. He belongs to the American Art Association in Paris, and won the prize for a sketch of "The Deluge," from the Julian School of Art in 1892, and another for a sketch of " Peasant Life in Brittany." Mr. Tanner thinks the picturesque in our own race life can best be interpreted by one of ourselves, and has a picture representing one phase of Negro life. He has called it " The First Lesson." As a study, it is re garded by art critics as an admirable piece of work. We have a number of excellent crayon portrait painters who have made little effort to acquaint the world with their gifts. We 'also have a representative in the art of sculpture. iss Fydmonia Lewis, a young, ignorant girl, saw the statue of Benjamin Franklin on a first visit to Boston, and exclaimed, " I can make a stone man!" Wm. Lloyd Garrison introduced her to a leading Boston sculptor, who gave her some clay and the model of a human foot, which she copied. From this beginning, Miss Lewis has now a studio of her own in Rome. Here she has executed work which has brought her the patronage of noted men and women. Her best works are busts of Charles Sumner and Abraham Lincoln, " Hiawatha's Wooing," " Forever Free," " Hagar in the Wilderness" and the Madonna. Gifted in Music. " Blind Tom," our musical prodigy, imi tates on the piano all sounds, and plays the most difficult classical music after hearing it once rendered. He has composed the " Battle of Manassas," in which the firing of cannon, marching of troops and playing of the bands are perfectly reproduced. Madame Selika, " The Black Patti " (Madame Jones), and Mrs. Nellie Brown Mitchell are the best of numbers of splendid vocalists who are training every year in the art the race loves best. Gussie L. Davis is one of the most popular song writers of the day. The Fisk Jubilee Singers made the music of the Ameri can Negro known throughout the world. So eminent an authority as Dr. Antonin Dvorak, the great Bohemian composer, voluntarily says : "I am now satisfied that the future music of this country must be founded upon what are called the Negro melodies. This must be the real foundation of any serious and original school of com posers to be developed in the United States. When I first came here I was impressed with this idea, and it has developed into a settled conviction. These beautiful and varied themes are the product of the soil, THIRTY YEARS OF ADVANCEMENT. 27 They are American. I would like to trace out the individual authorship of the Negro melodies, for it would throw a great deal of light upon the question I am deeply inter ested in at present. "These are the folk songs of America, and your composers must turn to them. All of the great musicians have borrowed from the songs of the common people. Beethoven's most charming scherzo is based upon what might now be considered a skill fully handled Negro melody. I have myself gone to the simple, half-forgotten tunes of the Bohemian peasants for hints in my most serious work. Only in this way can a musi cian express the true sentiment of his people. He gets into touch with the common humanity of his country. A Noble School of Music. " In the Negro melodies of America I discover all that is needed for a great and noble school of music. They are pathetic, tender, passionate, melancholy, solemn, re ligious, bold, merry, gay or what you will. It is music that sets itself to any mood or any purpose. There is nothing in the whole range of composition that cannot be supplied with themes from this source. The American musician understands these tunes, and they move sentiment in him. They appeal to his imagination because of their associations. "When I was in England one of the ablest musical critics in London complained to me that there was no distinctively Eng lish school of music, nothing that appealed particularly to the British mind and heart. I replied to him that the composers of Eng land had turned their backs upon the fine melodies of Ireland and Scotland instead of making them the essence of an English school. It is a great pity that English musicians have not profited out of this rich store. Somehow the old Irish and Scotch ballads have not seized upon or appealed to them. I hope it will not be so in this coun try, and I intend to do all in my power to call attention to these treasures of melody which you have. "Among my pupils in the National Con servatory of Music I have discovered strong talents. There is one young man upon whom I am building strong expectations. His compositions are based upon Negro melodies, and I have encouraged him in this direction. The other members in the com position class seem to think that it is not in good taste to get ideas from the old plantation songs, but they are wrong, and I have tried to impress upon their minds the fact that the greatest composers have not considered it beneath their dignity to go to the humble folk songs for motifs. Minstrels and Melodies. " I did not come to America to interpret Beethoven or Wagner for the public. That is not my work and I would not waste any time on it. I came to discover what young Americans had in them and help them to express it. When the Negro minstrels are here again I intend to take my young com posers with me and have them comment on the melodies." The facts and statistics here presented furnish but a faint idea of the magnificent possibilities of our race. The Negro has marvellous native ability. Let him have equal ambition and determination. Then will his future be assured. He will become a power for good in these United States. He will win his way .by undisputed merit. He will command an approbation and secure a position and distinction that cannot justly be denied him. The golden dawn of a new and better day "stands tiptoe on the hills.'' AFRO-AMERICAN PROGRESS ILLUSTRATED. CLERGYMEN AND CHURCHES. r kHE materials for illustrating the pro gress of our race are so ample that one finds a difficulty in deciding where to begin. Turn whither we will, the eye discovers illustrious names, shining like galaxies in the firmament. In nearly all pursuits and professions the Afro- American has distinguished himself, and a great array of shining examples are thereby presented for the encouragement and inspira tion of the great masses of our colored race, especially the young. When we consider the disadvantages under which our people have labored, the lowly life into which they were born, the little opportunity 'they have had for educating themselves until within the last few years, and the prejudice that has confronted them at every step, it must in truth be said that the progress they have made is the marvel and the miracle of modern times. If the Negro can accomplish so much in the face of such opposing forces, what might ,he not do under favorable conditions and circum stances. Among the many names that give lustre to our Afro-American race, we place first of all the Bishops of various churches noble, self-sacrificing, eloquent men, who, by their learning, their ability in the administration of church affairs, their oratorical pre-eminence and unsullied lives, have gained the highest position in the gift of the different religious bodies to which they belong. The sketches of these distinguished men here presented furnish lessons of weighty meaning. They 28 rose from poverty and obscurity to places of vast power and influence. From the lowly cabin they have come forth to stand among the great ones of the earth. The first to be mentioned is one who lived before the present generation, but whose noble work still endures. BISHOP RICHARD ALLEN. This manly, dignified, staunch friend tc the Afro-American race, and the founder aru promoter of the African Methodist Epis copal faith, was born in Philadelphia in 1760. He united with the Methodist Church at the age of seventeen, and at twenty- two began preaching and travelled extensively through the Middle States. His influence as an orator was great even in youth, and at the time of his conversion his master was so struck by his eloquence that he allowed him to preach to him, and was afterward converted under his preach ing. It is open to doubt, however, as to whether or not the divine influence took entire possession of the white man, as Mr. Allen was obliged to purchase his freedom. Richard Allen was ordained deacon in 1799 by Rt. Rev. Francis Asbury, Bishop of the Methodist Church. At the organiza tion of the A. M. E. Church, A. D. 1816, he was elected the first African Bishop in America. In withdrawing from the church in which he was refused the respect that was his due as a man and an humble and zealous worker for the cause of Christ, he took a step that was new and fraught with dangers AFRO-AMERICAN PROGRESS ILLUSTRATED. 29 that cannot, at this time, be fully estimated ; but his friends, Rev. A. Jones, William White and D. Ginnings, stood by him, and his ultimate success is a matter of history. The growth of the A. M. E. Church is a splendid tribute to the Negro genius. Of all the denominations under the name of "Methodist," white or black, it has seemed to touch the heart of the Negro and make him a man of power. Its institutions and laws are the result of Negro genius, and also are the exhibition of his executive ability and abundant wisdom. When Richard manifested his faith in the future and declared himself no longer willing to have the body and blood of Christ prostituted by being withheld from him until his white brethren (?) were served, he put his foot on the neck of hell-born preju dice, and from that moment a new era dawned for the Negro, and a new song was given to the angels in neaven. This was in the early days of 1816, when the times were not favorable to the expression of a dis sent from anything a white man said or did in church or state. Bishop Allen is revered by the African Methodist Episcopal Church as the founder of their faith. Says one of their scholarly writers : " If Luther was the apostle of mind free dom, and Wesley of soul freedom, then Allen was the apostle of human freedom or liberty of mind and body. If Luther's motto was, 'The just shall live by faith,' and Wesley's, 'The world is my parish,' Allen's was, ' I perceive of a truth that God is no respecter of persons.' The sons of Allen, through Bishop Pane, have formulated the sentiments of the three as follows: 'God, our Father; Christ, our Redeemer, and Man, our Brother.' " BISHOP HENRY McNEAL TURNER, D.D., LL.D. One of the most influential men in the United States was born near Newberry Court-House, South Carolina, February i , 1833. Though free born, owing to the REV. RICHARD ALLEN, First Bishop A. M. E. Church. absence of a father's care, he was deprived of many of the advantages accorded to boys of his age. He was bound out to the hard est kind of labor in cotton fields and at the blacksmith's trade until his manhood. He was possessed of a craving for knowl edge, and having procured an old spelling book, an old white lady and a boy with whom he played taught him the alphabet and to spell as far as two syllables, but he 30 AFRO-AMERICAN PROGRESS ILLUSTRATED. got no farther then as he was discovered in the act. He found an old colored man who did not know a letter but was a prodigy in sounds and could pronounce anything spelled to him. This helper was removed to another plantation and he was again left to his own resources. His mother hired a white lady to give him lessons every Sabbath but the neigh bors were so indignant that they threatened to have the law on her, as it was then against the law to teach a Negro the alphabet. REV. HENRY MCNEIL TURNER. D.D., LL.D Bishop A. M. E. Church. Three years from this time, at the age of fifteen, he was given work in a lawyer's office, at Abbeyville Court House. The men in the office were impressed with his excellent memory and taught him, in defiance of the law, to read accurately his tory, theology, and even works on law. He continued to pursue his studies alone, and later went to New Orleans, thence to South Carolina, and still later to Baltimore where he had charge of a small mission. Here he studied grammar, Latin, Greek, Hebrew, German and theology under emi nent private teachers. He joined the M. E. Church, South, in 1848, while but a boy and was licensed to preach in 1853. He was ordained deacon in 1860, ordained elder in 1862, and was ordained Bishop in 1880. He received the title of LL.D. from the Penn sylvania University in 1872, and the de gree of D.D. from Wilberforce University in 1873. He was appointed United States Chaplain by President Lincoln in 1863, and served faithfully through the war. After being mustered out, he was re- commissioned United States Chaplain by President Johnson, but gave up that place to work for the church and the race. He travelled and preached, building up schools and churches all over the State. He was for several years Bishop of the A. M. E. r Church. He has held many political ;; positions and as an orator has reaped an immense harvest of favorable comment and hearty praise. He was married to Miss Eliza Ann Peacher in 1856. His oratorical ability is wonderful. He has been considered by many one of the best, if not the very best orator of his class in the United States. Certain it is that he is forcible, eloquent and impres sive, and has a pleasing and sympathetic address. BISHOP ALEXANDER D.D. WALTERS, Rev. Alexander Walters, D.D., Bishop of the A. M. E. Zion Church, was born August i, 1858, at Bardstown, Ky. At anj early age he manifested deep concern about the Bible and Spiritual things, and was often heard to say : " I am going to preach." AFRO-AMERICAN PROGRESS ILLUSTRATED. 31 At the age of eight years a proposition was made by the teacher of his town, Mr. Rowan Wickliffe, to the Trustee Board of the A. M. E. Zion Church, that he would teach, free of charge, any boy who might be chosen by them to be educated for the min istry. Young Walters was chosen. He remained in school four years, and at twelve years of age joined the church. For four years he worked in hotels and on steamboats at Louisville. In 1876 he moved to Indianapolis, Ind., and began the study of theology under private tutors. In 1877 he married Miss Kate Knox, of Indianapolis; was li- . censed to preach May, 1877; joined the Kentucky Annual Con ference of the A. M. E. Zion con nection, at Indianapolis, Septem ber, 1878, and was sent from $1 that conference to Croydon, Ky. He remained in this appoint ment for two years, and was ordained a deacon at St. Louis in 1879, and was appointed to Cloverport, Ky., in 1880, where he remained one year. In 1881 he was appointed to the Fifteenth Street Church, Louisville. In 1882 he was elected secre tary of his conference and treas urer of Zion's Banner. In 1883 he was transferred to Stockton Street A. M. E. Zion Church, San Francisco, Cal. This church is the largest colored church in the West; in three years he was successful in raising $15,000 to liquidate a mortgage which has been on the church for many years. ' In 1 886 he was transferred to Tennessee and stationed at Chattanooga, where he began a revival on his first Sabbath which resulted in 175 conversions. Sickness pre vented him from remaining longer than one year in this charge, and he was sent from Chattanooga to Knoxville, where he met with the usual success and was transferred to New York City in 1888. Bishop Walters has been a member of the General Conference several times, and held the office of secretary on two occasions. REV. ALEXANDER WALTERS, D.D., Bishop A. M. E. Zion Church. He is the most popular and successful pastor who has ever held the pulpit of the A. M. E. Zion Church. Bishop Walters, when chosen, was the youngest member of the Board of Bishops. BISHOP BENJAMIN TUCKER TAN- NER, A.M., D.D. Without doubt, one of the brightest, grandest, noblest men in the ranks of Negro 32 AFRO-AMERICAN PROGRESS ILLUSTRATED. Methodism is Dr. B. T. Tanner, the veteran journalist of the colored race. His fame has extended from the lakes to the gulf, and from the Atlantic to the Pacific. He was born in Pennsylvania, and was not a slave. He spent five years in study at Avery College, Alle gheny City, Pennsylvania, where he paid his expenses by working at the barber's REV. BENJAMIN TUCKER TANNER, Bishop A. M. E. Church. chair. At this time his father was dead, and he was obliged to care for his widowed mother. His whole nature was independent, for he might have smoothed his path ; but he pre ferred to work and win. Mr. Avery, the founder of Avery College, offered to pay his expenses at the college, but he refused. The feeling of independence prevented him. After spending one year at Avery College, he took a three years' course at Western Theological Seminary. His birthday being December 25, 1835, he was twenty-five years of age when he received his first appointment from Bishop D. A. Payne to the Sacramento Station in the California Conference. He did not fill the appointment because of the dis- , tance and expense, and I was "supply" for the Presbyterian Church of Washington, District of Columbia, for eighteen months. April, 1862, he united / ;> ^ ; \ with the Baltimore An nual Conference, and was appointed to the Alex ander Mission, E Street, Washington, D. C. In 1863 he was pastor to the Georgetown, D. C., Church, and in 1866 had charge of the "big Balti more," after resigning which charge he became principal of the Annual Conference School at Frederickstown, Md. His addresses showed thought, learning and rare gifts; so that when the General Conference met in the Nation's Capi tal in 1868, he was not only made chief sec retary, but editor of the church organ The Christian Recorder by acclamation, and this honored position was thrust upon him in succession until he had served sixteen years. In 1870 he was given the degree of A.M. at ; Avery College, and Wilberforce University conferred upon him the degree of D.D. sometime in the seventies. A.M., D.D., AFRO-AMERICAN PROGRESS ILLUSTRATED. In 1881 he visited England and Conti nental Europe, and attended the Ecumenical Conference. His spare time was spent in writing books of use to his denomination, among which we mention " The Negro's Origin," "An Apology for African Meth odism," "The Negro, African and Ameri can," and he is also editor of the A. M. E. Review since 1884. He is a member of the New England Historical Society of the M. E. Church, and fills many important stations in his own church. Dr. Arnett has said of Dr. Tanner : " He has risen from a successful barber to be the king of Negro editors ; his pen is sharper than his razor, and his editorial chair is finer than the barber chair. The church and race will long remember Dr. B. T. Tanner for the part he has taken in the reconstruction of the South and for his words of encouragement." BISHOP BENJAMIN F. LEE, A. B., D. D. This remarkable man went to Wilberforce University as hostler, and was not allowed to sleep with the students; and in thirteen years became president of the University. Benjamin F. Lee was born at Gouldtown, New Jersey, September 18, 1841. His father died when he was ten years old, and in 1852 he began the battle of life alone, and since then has never spent more than six months together at the old homestead. He spent his winters in country schools until he was fifteen years old, and from that time until he was twenty-one he was em ployed on farms and in factories. During this time he studied algebra and read many biographical and historical works. Being ambitious for more learning he entered Wilberforce University in 1864, *vhere his recitations were confined to night llasses for one year, during which time he C supported himself by working hard at all jobs he could secure during the day. In 1865 he entered as a regular student and finished in 1872, taking the degree of A. B. The only financial aid he received during his school life was about $175. He often walked four to eleven miles during vacation to do a day's work in the corn field or at harvesting. After becoming sufficiently advanced he taught school. During one period of six REV. BENJAMIN F. LEE, A.B., D.D.. Bishop A. M. E. Church. months he taught school, worked Saturdays and at odd hours to pay his board, and kept up with his class at the college. He joined the church of the A. M. E. faith in 1862, and in 1866 was permitted to exhort. In 1868 he was licensed to preach, in 1870 was made deacon; in 1872 he was ordained an elder, and was appointed to the pastoral charge of the Salem circuit, including Salem, Ohio, and Bridgewater, Pennsylvania. In 1873 he was called from the charge of Frankfort, Kentucky, to which he had been 34 AFRO-AMERICAN PROGRESS ILLUSTRATED. appointed at graduation, to occupy the chair of pastoral theology, homeletics and eccle siastical history at Wilberforce, which posi tion had been made vacant by the resigna tion of Professor T. H. Jackson. He re mained here two years, and then took charge of the A. M. E. Church in Toledo, Ohio. In 1876 he was called to the presidency REV. JAMES ANDERSON HANDY, D.D., Bishop A. M. E. Church. of Wilberforce College by the resignation of Bishop Payne. He filled this office for eight years and exerted a far-reaching influ ence over the hundreds of young men. At the expiration of eight years he was elected by the General Conference of the A. M. E. Church editor of the Christian Recorder, the official organ of that body. He has filled many positions of honor and trust under the A. M. E. General Convention. It was said of President Garfield that he went "from the towpath to the White House," and it may be said of the subject of this sketch that he went from a hostler's place to a college president's chair, where he became the Nestor of all active Afro-Ameri can Christian educators, distinguished in position, yet conspicuous in modesty. BISHOP JAMES ANDERSON HANDY, D.D. Rev. James A. Handy was born in Baltimore, Md., December 22, 1826. Notwithstanding all the dis advantages he labored under, he was industrious, honest and studious. As he advanced in years, he advanced also in knowledge of men and things. He was a leader in the societies when a young man. He is one of the leading Masons in the United States. Some years after his marriage he was converted and joined the Bethel Church, Baltimore. In 1862 he was recommended to the Baltimore An nual Conference. At the close of the conference he was appointed to Ports mouth, Va. He planted the A. M. E. Church there, and established day and night schools. In 1868 he was elected corre sponding secretary of the Parent Home and Foreign Missionary So ciety. In 1878 he was appointed presiding elder over the Baltimore District, which position he filled acceptably until 1883, when he was appointed pastor of the Metro politan Church, Washington, D. C. In 1888 the General Conference at Indian apolis, Ind., elected him financial secretary. He filled the office so well that at Philadel phia, May, 1892, he was elected Bishop and ordained in the same month. The Metro- AFRO-AMERICAN PROGRESS ILLUSTRATED. 35 politan Church will stand as a lasting monu ment to his financial ability and reputation as a business man, as well as a minister of the Lord Jesus Christ. slaves. At the age of eighteen John was carried by his owners to Baltimore where he served as under clerk in several dry goods houses. METROPOLITAN A. M. E. CHURCH, WASHINGTON, D. C. REV. JOHN T. JENIFER. Rev. John Thomas Jenifer was born in Upper Marlboro, Prince George County, Md., March 10, 1836, in the Tyler family. His parents John H. and Catharine Jenifer were In 1859 he went to Nev, Bedford, Mass., to live with his father who, in 1841, went there on the " underground railroad." Here John studied two years with a purpose of entering mercantile business, but being moved REV. J. D. CHAVIS, A.M., B.D., President Bennett College, Greensboro, N. C. PROF. R. R. WRIGHT, A.M., President Georgia State Industrial College. PROF. A. ST. GEORGE RICHARDSON, B.A., Principal Morris Brown College, Atlanta, Ga . THOMAS J. CALLOWAY, A.B., Pres't Alcorn A. & M. College, West Side. Miss 38 AFRO-AMERICAN PROGRESS ILLUSTRATED. Townsend and one sister are the only sur vivors of the family. After an eight years' residence in Law- venceburg, Ind., they removed to Oxford, Ohio. James, who was ten years, learned his letters and could spell easy words. Oxford was not quite so antagonistic to Afro- Americans as either Gallipolis or Lawrenceburg. In it were a few people who prized worth more than appearances, and who were willing to accord equal rights to all. Dr. Townsend REV. J. M. TOWNSEND, D.D. loves Oxford and regards it as his old home, and the scene of many happy days. The second or third winter after the family removed to Oxford, the Rev. John Turner was conducting a religious revival in the town, and the subject of our sketch felt constrained to give his heart to God, and to become a member of the A. M. E. Church. His Bourse as a member of the church was so consistent, his piety so devoted and his ability so marked that he was licensed as a minister when only about eighteen years old. At that time he felt he had a call from the Master to go forth and proclaim the Gospel to the dying world. Early in the spring of 1863, in response to a call of Gov. Andrews of Massachusetts for Afro-American volunteers to form the 54th Massachusetts Infantry, he went to Boston and enlisted as a private and was shortly made corporal. After the fight at Olustee he was detailed hospital steward, in which capacity he was serving when the regiment was discharged at Port Royal, gen erally called Hiltonhead, S. C. The 54th was mustered out on Boston Common early in the fall of 1865, and the subject of our sketch returned to his home at Oxford. Worked his Way Through. H^ went into the business of making brooms but that was not a success. Then he went to Oberlin and worked his way through the college. After receiving his diploma he taught school at Evansville, Ind. Shortly after entering upon his second year as teacher he went to Hamilton and mar ried Miss Cornelia Settle, who proved to be both a companion and helpmate. At the Conference of the A. M. E. Church, held in 1872, he was ordained a deacon. In the following June he was ordained an elder and assigned to Richmond, Ind. From there for the next two years he was assigned to Terre Haute. He next went to Indianapolis but was shortly elected missionary secretary of the church, which place he filled for nine years. He has travelled extensively both in this and other countries. He was a member of the World's Ecumenical Conference in London, England, in 1 88 1, and was one of the commissioners of the Organic Union of the A. M. E. Church and the B. M. E. Church. He was the secretary for thirteen consecutive ses sions of the Indiana Conference, and was * AFRO-AMERICAN PROGRESS ILLUSTRATED. 39 delegate three times to the General Confer ence. In 1888 he was elected, by a very large majority, as a member of the State Legisla ture for Wayne County, Ind., and served his constituency with marked fidelity and ability. He made such a decided impression on the public mind that in May, 1889, President Benjamin Harrison appointed him as the recorder of the general land office at Wash ington, D. C. He accepted the position and -discharged the duties so well as to be com plimented both by the President and other leading officials. He resigned in October, 1891, because he felt that a higher duty called him into active church work. Success in Chicago. He returned to Richmond, Ind., and took charge of Bethel Church, which he rebuilt, and it now is one of the prettiest and most commodious church buildings in Richmond. After the building was completed, furnished and paid for, the pastor received very urgent calls to other churches. The most urgent of these came from Quinn Chapel, the largest and finest A. M. E. Church in Chicago. Dr. Townsend's suc cess in Chicago was phenomenal. During nine months of his pastorate 548 persons united with the church. The beautiful church edifice was completed and thousands of dollars were paid on the church debt. If his life is spared, the near future will see Dr. Townsend a Bishop of the A. M. E. Church, not because of a mere ambition for power and place, but because his people know he is fitted for the high position and that he will reflect credit upon it. But wherever he may be placed he will always be found a worker for humanity, a doer of deeds as well as an inspirer to good actions, thus ex hibiting to others the highest type of manhood. QUINN CHAPEL, CHICAGO. In A. D., 1844, there lived in a small hut in the alley near State street, between Lake and Randolph streets, Chicago, a plain but devout Afro-American, named John Day. A few Afro-Americans used to congregate at Day's house to hold prayer meetings.. This house becoming too small, the meetings were removed to the house of Maria Parker, who lived adjoining Day's. Maria Parker had a daughter, Mrs. Anna Fulton, the old est member of Quinn Chapel, now living. QUINN CHAPEL, CHICAGO, In 1845, t ne prayer meeting assembly having grown to the proportions of a relig ious society, they moved from the house of Mother Parker, as she was called, into the school house on Madison street, a few doors from State street. In 1846, Madison Patter son, an exhorter, took the leadership of the society, having as his assistant A. T. Hall, a barber, then a journeyman in the shop of the well known Oliver Henderson, of Chicago. Madison Patterson took the society to his house on State street, near Van Buren street, where class and prayer meetings were held 40 AFRO-AMERICAN PROGRESS ILLUSTRATED. till they purchased one half of the white Baptist Church, 30x50 feet, located on the corner of La Salle and Washington streets, which they hauled on to a lot on the east side of Wells street, now Fifth avenue, be tween Jackson and Van Buren streets. In 1847, Rev. William Paul Quinn, then Bishop of the African Methodist Episcopal Church, sent the Rev. George Johnson, a missionary from the New York Annual Con ference, who, with the assistance of Philip Ward, July 22, 1847, organized the society under the discipline of the African M. E. Church, and called it Quinn Chapel. There were seven members who formed the organi zation as follows : Rachel Day, John Day, Adelia Lucas, Mary Jane Randall, A. T. Hall, Maria Moose and Edward Gordon. Frank Scrips was the appointed class leader. Annie Lewis, Anna Scrips, Virginia Camp bell and Virginia Dixon joined immediately after the organization. The first trustees were William Randall, Edward Gordon, Isaiah Parker, John Day, John Rollins, Wil liam Lucas, and John Farns worth. The First Class Leader. The Quinn Chapel Society was the second Methodist Church in Chicago. At that date there were St. Mary's Cathedral on Madison street, the First Presbyterian Cathedral on Washington street, and the First Baptist Church on Wabash avenue, and Thirty-first street. The Rev. A. T. Hall was the first class leader of the Quinn Chapel Society, and was the first Afro-American licensed to preach in Chicago. He is now the oldest traveling minister in the Iowa Conference of the A. M. E. Church. The first pastor, September, 1847-1848, was the Rev. Thomas Farnsworth, the sec ond 1848-1850 was the Rev. Aaron Parker; the third, 1850-185 1, was the Rev. Elisha Weaver. Weaver being removed, the Rev A. T. Hall filled the unexpired term, when he became the fourth pastor, 1851-1852, serving two years; the fifth pastor, 1852- 1854, was the Rev. J. A. Warren. Under the Rev. Mr. Warren's administra tion the society purchased the lot on the southwest corner of Jackson street and Fourth avenue, now Custom House Place, occupied by the magnificent Monadnock Building. They moved from the Wells street lot to this location in 1854, where they had erected a new house which was dedi cated and paid for the same day. The trus tees at this time were John Lucas, William Sparrow, John Collins, Isaiah Baker, A. T. Hall. The Rev. Bird Parker, an able preacher, was employed to travel and collect funds to pay for the church property. The Successive Pastors. The sixth pastor, 1854-1855, was the Rev William Davis; the seventh pastor, 1855- 1857, was the Rev. Elisha Webber; the eighth pastor, 1857-1858, was the Rev. M. M. Clark; the ninth pastor, 1858-1861, M as the Rev. Willis R. Revels ; the tenth pastor, 1861-1862, was the Rev. William A. Dove; the eleventh pastor, 1862-1864, was the Rev. Charles Birch; the twelfth pastor, 1864- 1866, was the Rev. A. T. Hall; the thir teenth pastor, 1866-1868, was the Rev. Wil liam C. Trevan ; the fourteenth pastor, 1868- 1869, was the Rev. Amos Mclntosh ; the fifteenth pastor, 1869-1870, was the Rev. William S. Langford ; the sixteenth pastor, 1870-1871, was the Rev. William C. Trevan. On October 9, 1871, the noted Chicago- fire destroyed the Quinn Chapel building on Jackson street and Fourth avenue (Custom House Place), when, under the leadership of Elder William C. Trevan, they mortgaged AFRO-AMERICAN PROGRESS ILLUSTRATED. 41 the lot for $1000 and purchased the old Taylor Building on Fourth avenue (Custom House Place) between Taylor and Twelfth streets, where they worshipped until the fire of July 15, 1873, when they were again burned out. They then occupied Union Hall, corner of Clark and Monroe streets, remaining there till they moved into an old store on the east side of Third avenue south of Van Buren street. Having mort gaged the Fourth avenue (Custom House Place) and Jackson street lot, they were J| compelled to sell it. With the proceeds they purchased a lot on Fourth avenue (Custom House Place) near Van Buren street. The seventeenth pastor, 1871-1874, was the Rev. G. C. Booth. In 1876 the corner-stone of the new brick building on Fourth avenue (Custom House Place), was laid during the administration of the eigh teenth pastor, 1875-1876, the Rev. E. C. Joiner. The building committee con sisted of H. A. Bartlett, M. M. Lucas, C. H. Jack son and Rev. E. C. Joiner, pastor. The nineteenth interests were such as to render the building as well as the location wholly unsuitable as a place of worship ; hence the pastor, Dr. J. T. Jenifer, induced his congregation to sell the Fourth avenue (Custom House Place), to pay off the debt, $11,000, and purchase the lot 75x192 feet on the southeast corner of Twenty-fourth street and Wabash avenue. , - -. BIG BETHEL, PHILADELPHIA, pastor, 1877-1880, was Rev. G. C. Booth, second term; the twentieth pastor, 1880- 1884, was the Rev. George H. Shaffer ; the twenty-first pastor, 1884-1889, was the Rev. T. W. Henderson ; the twenty-second, 1889- 1893, Rev. J. T. Jenifer. The changes on Fourth avenue (Custom House Place) caused by business and other where a fine church edifice 75x1 12 has been erected of Gothic architecture, costing $45,- ooo, with additional cost of completing, about $10,000 more. The building is a stone structure with tower on the corner, and in style and struc ture is compatible with the locality, as well as growth and progress of the congregation. 42 AFRO-AMERICAN PROGRESS ILLUSTRATED. .and also as the center for humane and Chris tian work among the Afro-American people. The Quinn Chapel congregation is among the most thrifty and intelligent of Chicago's Afro- American citizens. The church has an excellent Sunday School with other flourish ing societies, lyceum, etc. This society has had fifty years of eventful history. It has REV. HENRY HIGHLAND GARNETT, Late U. S. Minister to Liberia. purchased four lots, erected four buildings for worship, suffering the destruction of two church building by fire, removed eight times, and under the Methodist itinerant custom, has had twenty -four changes of pas tors, some of them being scholarly men and able preachers and divines. Yet, through .all these vicissitudes they have kept in ad vance, with a fast hold on the confidence o! the Afro-American people and the esteem of the best citizens of Chicago. At the end of the third quarterly confer ence, Rev. J. T. Jenifer, who had so earn estly labored with the congregation, was called to the Metropolitan Church, in Wash ington, D. C., the connectional church, by the Bishops. Rev. G. C. Booth, a former pastor, was appointed to fill out the un- expired term or last quarter of the conference year of 1 893 In the meantime the boards were soliciting the services of Rev. J. M. Townsend, then 1 u located at Richmond, Ind., and their wishes were granted. After Conference in 1893, he took charge of the church, and although everything and everybody seemed to be at a stand still, Dr. Townsend went to work. Never before in the history of Quinn Chapel were its affairs so prosperous. Dur ing the revival that started on New Year's night, more than 500 persons joined the church, and, in spite of the dull times, during the last third of the conference year the trustees raised over $4000, or more than they formerly raised dur ing a year of prosperity. This money did not include the stewards' collec tions and money taken in for charitable pur poses. The auditorium of the church which was nothing but bare walls and naked floors was converted into as fine a church as any in the connection, and ranks with any church in the city of Chicago, without regard to the de- AFRO-AMERICAN PROGRESS ILLUSTRATED. 43 nomination. The great pipe organ and the sun burners add a great deal of beauty to the place and the sanctuary, which is built in the shape of a semi-circle, is very beautiful, and besides this the pews and all the rest of the furniture are of the highest order of excellence. On the whole it is indescribable, and for a person to appreciate the same it must be seen. A great victory has been .achieved not only by the A. M. E. connection, but by the Afro- Americans of Chicago in .general, and the people of other places will join in the triumphant praise. REV. HENRY HIGHLAND GARNETT, D.D. This celebrated preacher and states man was born in slavery in Kent County, Md., December 23, 1815, but his father, by the aid of Thomas Gar- rett, a Quaker, succeeded in bringing him and the other members of the family to freedom. They lived for a time in Bucks County, Pa., but soon moved to New York, where he studied for a while in the Mulberry Street School. He was obliged by the poverty of his farpily to work as cabin boy, and afterward endeavored to gain an edu cation , but was unsuccessful until he went V> the Oneida Institute at Whites- boro. He graduated in 1839, anc ^ as ^ in '$f meantime lost his family through the slave hunters, he settled in Troy. He studied theology diligently, and in 1842 was licensed to preach and became pastor of the Liberty Street Church, with Which church he remained for ten years, publishing the Clarion. He was pastor of the Shiloh Presbyterian Church of New York for twenty-six years, and only resigned this charge to go to Liberia as resident minister. He did not live long after sailing, but he has left an example for others of his race that should be followed. He was an elo quent and charming speaker, and, although a cripple for life, this only seemed to add to the brilliancy of his mind. REV. RICHARD DeBAPTIST, D.D. This well-known clergyman is a man of mark, of whom Fredricksburg, Va., may REV. RICHARD DEBAPTIST, D.D. well be proud. He was born November 1 1, 1831, and received a fair education in Vir ginia under the guidance of his father and in secret. He was ordained to the ministry at Mount Pleasant, and taught public school for colored youth in this place for three years. Here he first exhibited those sterling traits of character which have since distinguished him and placed him in the front rank. He was pastor of the Baptist Church in Mount Pleasant for four years, and then took 44 AFRO-AMERICAN PROGRESS ILLUSTRATED. the pastorate of the Olivet Baptist Church of Chicago, which charge he held from 1 863 to 1882. During this time he built two church edifices, at a cost of $33,000, and brought into membership more than 1700 persons. He has held the position of Corresponding Secretary of the Wood River Association ever since his election in 1864, and was President of the Baptist Mission four years. He has been editor of several religious and REV. ALEXANDER CRUMMEL, D.D. secular periodicals. He was married in 1855 to Miss Georgiana Brische of Cincin nati, Ohio, but lost her November 2, 1872. He was married again in 1885 and his wife died in 1886, leaving him with three children. REV. ALEXANDER CRUMMEL, A.B., D.D. This prominent representative of the Protestant Episcopal Church was born in New York City. His father was an African prince and his mother was a free woman. At an early age he entered the Mulberry Street School in New York, and in 1831 attended a school which had been founded for the purpose of giving advantages to the colored youth for the study of the classics. The instructions were not what met with the approval of his parents and he was sent to Canaan, N. H. Here he stayed but a few months when he was forced to leave on account of race troubles. In 1836 he entered the Oneida Institute and remained three years. He was received as a candidate for holy orders in 1839 by Rev. Peter Williams, and was admitted to priestly orders by Bishop Lee of Delaware. Afterward he was able to enter and graduate from Queen's College, Cambridge, England, and went to Africa, where he achieved great success as a missionary. In 1862 he published a valuable col lection of addresses which are fitting evidences of his simple, touching faith, his intense personality, and devoted Christian spirit. REV. ALLEN ALLENS WORTH, A.M. The subject of this sketch was born of slave parents, in Louisville, Ky, April 3, 1843. He evidenced a thirst for knowl edge at an early age. When the Ely Nor mal School was established in Louisville, he was its janitor and among its first pupils. While serving as a missionary in Kentucky, he was appointed by President Grover Cleve land to the chaplaincy of the Twenty-fourth United States Infantry. He was selected by the Republicans as an elector on the Garfield 1. PROF. L,. S. CLARKE, Athens, Ga. 2. PRIN. F. G. SMITH, M.D.,Nashville,Tenn. 3. PROF. A. W. MCKINNEY, A.M., Huntsville, Ala. 4. PROF. F. G. SNELSON, A.B., Athens, Ga. 5. DR. R. F. BOYD, A.M., M.D., Nashville, Tenn. 6. PROF. W. B. MATHEWS, Cartersville, Ga. 7. REV. PROF. J. A. JONES, Shelbyville, Tenn. 8. PROF. A. TOLUVER, Marrietta, Ga. 9. PROF. W. H. SPENCER, Columbus, Ga. ft, o 55 W O K W 125 t/3 - 1 c i H Q p H to P AFRO-AMERICAN PROGRESS ILLUSTRATED. 45 ;and Arthur ticket. Recognizing his success in life, and appreciating his course as a Chris tian and a man of scholastic habits, the Roger Williams University conferred upon him the honorary degree of Master of Arts. I Mr. Allensworth furnishes another striking illustration of what may be accomplished by a young man in humble life who has the right kind of stuff in him, who is studious, reliable and determined to succeed. In every responsible position he has shown himself to be master of the situation, and has gained the confidence and respect of the entire com munity. REV. PIERRE LANDRY. The subject of this sketch, who stands first among the colored citizens of Ascension Parish, Louisiana, by reason of his abilities and the prominence of the position in life they have given him, was born on the plant ation of the late Dr. F. Provost, opposite Donaldsonville, April 19, 1841, and was reared by Pierre Damas Bouziac and Zaides, his wife, free people of color. The boy was sent to a school on the plantation, conducted by Mrs. Reno for the benefit of free colored children, and was later taught the trade of confectioner and pastry cook. At the Provost succession sale, May 1 6, 1854, young Landry was offered to the highest bidder, and became the property of the late M. S. Bringier, one of Ascension's wealthiest sugar planters, the purchase price being $1,665. The boy was at once installed as chief pastryman of the Bringier mansion, and was subsequently appointed superin tendent of the yard and the servants charged with its care. Some time afterwards he formed a com mercial partnership with the chief butler, Joseph Burbridge, and they conducted a store on the plantation, dealing in such arti cles as they were permitted to sell to the other slaves. The latter were entitled to one pint of molasses each per day, and were privileged to trade at the store to the extent of this allowance, which, by an arrangement with the overseer, remained in the sugar- house subject to the orders of the firm. A moss-press, broom factory and wood yard were also established in connection with the store, and the work of plantation ditch ing by contract carried on, the principals dealing with the overseer and sub-letting contracts to the plantation hands. After a prosperous career the firm of "Joe and RFV. ALLEN ALLENSWORTH, A.M., Chaplain United States Infantry. Caliste" was dissolved by mutual consent in 1862. Young Landry early developed a taste for mechanics, and in 1860 obtained his release from house and yard duty and served apprenticeships under Mr. Ursin Boudreaux, head carpenter of the plantation, and Mr. James Lear, the well-known and skillful engineer and machinist. He remained on the plantation until 1866, having made three futile efforts to enter the army, and in that year moved across the river to this town, where he has maintained his domicile ever since. 46 AFRO-AMERICAN PROGRESS ILLUSTRATED. At the municipal election in 1868 he was elected mayor of the town and commissioned by General Rousseau, then commanding the Department of the Gulf, being the first ST. PAUL'S CHURCH, SHREVEPQRT, LA, colored man to hold such a position in this State. He served out his term of one year, and was subsequently Justice of the Peace, Town Tax Collector, member and President of the Board of School Directors of Ascen sion Parish, member and President of the Police Jury of Ascension, Postmaster of Donaldsonville four years ; was selected to- the House of Representatives in 1872; to the State Senate in 1874, and again in 1878; to the Constitutional Convention in 1879, an d again to the House of Representatives in 1880 and 1882. He was converted in 1862 and be came a member of the Methodist Epis copal Church under the pastorate of Rev. Thomas Kennedy, the first colored preacher appointed by Bishop Thomp son, in 1866. Mr. Landry was one of the founders of the St. Peter M. E. Church, of Donaldsonville, and occu pied every one of its offices succes sively. He was elected a lay delegate from the Louisiana Conference to the General Conference held at Brooklyn in 1872; joined the travelling connec tion in 1878 and received an appoint ment from Bishop W. L. Harris, serving three successful years as pastor of St. Peter. At the Annual Session of the Louisi ana Conference at Shreveport in 1881, he was appointed Presiding Elder of the Baton Rouge District by Bishop C. D. Foss, served the limit of four years in that position, and in 1885 was appointed Presiding Elder of the Shreveport District by Bishop W. F. Mallalieu. After four years faithful ser vice in that capacity he was appointed pastor of the St. Paul Church at Shreve port, and in two years completed the building of that edifice and rebuilt the parsonage at a total expense of $7000, superintending the work himself and turning over at the expiration of his term one of the best pieces of colored church property in the Louisiana Conference. AFRO-AMERICAN PROGRESS ILLUSTRATED. 47 At the Annual Conference at New Orleans, January 14, 1891, Mr. Landry was appointed Presiding Elder of the South New Orleans District by Bishop John P. Newman, D.D., LL.D., and was continued on the same mission by Bishop Mallalieu, D.D., at the last session of the Louisiana Conference at New Orleans, January 13, 1892. At the same session he was elected one of the three ministerial delegates to the General Conference which met at Omaha, May I to 31, 1892. Rev. Mr. Landry is an incorpoi-ator and member of the Board of Trustees of the New Orleans University, one of the lead ing institutions for the education of colored youths in this country, and deservedly enjoys the confidence and esteem, not only of the people of his own race, but of all classes, wherever he is known. Mr. Landry has been greatly aided in his important work by the kind counsel and wise efforts of the two noble women who have been united to him in marriage. His family is a remarkable one, not merely in size but in other ways. In complying with our request to furnish some facts con nected with his successful career, he writes : " I am the father of sixteen children two dead ; was twice married, first to Miss Amanda Grigsby, of Ascension, who died December, 1883, and again to Miss Florence A. Simpkins, of Mansfield, La., in 1886. " By the grace of God, I have beeii aL.e to give a liberal education to my children, and am still doing so. Five of them are married and are prosperously engaged in educational and other pursuits." REV. AUGUSTUS TOLTON. The first and only Afro-American Catholic priest was born April i, 1854, in Rails County, Mo. His father died at a hospital during the war, and when Augustus was seven years old his mother with two other children started out to liberate herself and REV. AUGUSTUS TOLTON, First Afro-American Catholic Priest. children. She travelled on foot through many dangers until she reached Quincy, 111. Here Augustus was reared, and from the age of seven to nineteen he worked in a tobacco factory, studying all his spare time. 48 AFRO-AMERICAN PROGRESS ILLUSTRATED. In 1872 his health failed, and, following the advice of friends, he stopped work at the factory and gave his time to study. He attended a Catholic school for a time, but race troubles drove him from there to a non- Catholic institution. Father McGirr, hearing of it, at once opened his school to colored children. Augustus pursued- his studies, with the aid of Catholic friends, until, through the REV. PRESTON TAYLOR. influence of Father Meichal Reinhardt, he secured admission to the Propaganda Col lege, Rome, where he entered the priest hood. Father Tolton is a man of sterling worth and a scholar of rare intelligence. He has met with many difficulties, but has overcome all obstacles, dignifying every position he has held by hi manly bearing, his earnest and enthusiastic spirit and con spicuous abilities. REV. PRESTON TAYLOR, was born of slave parents on November 7, 1 849, at Shreveport, La. He was taken to Georgia at the age of one year. He served in the war as drummer boy and afterwards learned the stonecutter's trade, but was una ble to secure employment on account of prejudice. He worked as porter on a railroad train for four years, and was so well liked by his employers that at the expiration of that time he was given a pass for an extended trip which he took through the North. Re turning he took the pastorate of the Christian Church, of Mt. Ster ling, Ky., which position he occu pied for fifteen years. v He was also chosen General Evangelist of the United States for this faith. Mr. Taylor has written for many periodicals and is an influential Mason and Odd Fellow, holding state offices in both lodges. His headquarters are at Nashville, Tenn., where he has the pastoral oversight of the Gay Street Church. Mr. Taylor is an enterprising business man, having in connec tion with his sacred calling acted in the capacity of railroad contrac tor, understanding fully that there is nothing derogatory to the ministry in seculai* pursuits if carried on in the right spirit, while the gains thus acquired are used for benevo lent purposes. For rare ability, honest dealing, kindly spirit and everyday usefulness, he is s bright example, and does credit to his race REV. EMPEROR WILLIAMS. Rev. Emperor Williams was born a slave in 1826, in the family of General Gaines, AFRO-AMERICAN PROGRESS ILLUSTRATED. 49 Nashville, Term. He went to Louisiana in 1839, and was sold to a Negro for $600, in 1840, who treated him badly. He was sold in 1841 to James Macintosh, a builder. Williams was a master mason, and from 1846 to 1858 was the trusted foreman of his owner. He joined the church in 1845, and had been promised his freedom for years and that boon came in 1858 under peculiar circum stances. His master had a difficult piece of cornice work and none of the white men could put it up. Williams said he could, and his master replied that if he did he should have his freedom. He took the plans of the difficult piece of work and laid them on the floor of his cabin and studied them all night, until he got every part per fectly in his mind and the next day took his gang of men and accomplished his diffi cult task. The promise was redeemed and our friend was a free man. In 1849 he married a slave woman, who was, like him self, a remarkable character. After he was free .he offered $2000 in gold for his wife buc her owners would not sell her. Not long after, in 1862, Butler took New Orleans, and Emperor Williams got his wife for nothing, and took his money and bought .a home. He had Learned to Write. While a slave Williams sometimes car ried a pass written by himself, which was as follows : "Permit the boy, Emperor, to pass and repass, and oblige, Mr. WILLIAMS." His master, whose name was Williams, saw it and the following colloquy took place : " Where did you learn to write like that ? " "While I was collecting your rent, sir." "My name is that." "No, sir; that is not your name, but mine. I would not commit a forgery." D His master gave him a seventy-five dollai suit of clothes and a nice cane, and said: " Go and preach until you die ; I am tired of you and your God bothering me any more." Afterwards, when dying, he sent for Williams and told him that slavery was wrong and bade him good-bye. In 1866 the Methodist Episcopal Church was organized in New Orleans, and Emperor Williams was one of the original twelve. A large portion of his time he has been presid- REV. EMPEROR WILLIAMS. ing elder. He was a member of the Gen eral Conference in 1 866. He is a man of great natural ability, thoroughly trustworthy and impartial in his judgment of men and measures. When ground was broken for the new university building, on St. Charles avenue, in New Orleans, he was one of the speakers. He is not a fluent speaker, except occasionally in times of great enthusiasm, and when deeply moved the few words he utters make a pro- 50 AFRO-AMERICAN PROGRESS ILLUSTRATED. found impression. Here are some of his sentences on that memorable occasion. Lift ing his hands to the heavens he said : " I wonder if this is the world I was born in. For twenty years I was a slave on these streets. It was a penitentiary offence to educate a Negro. I have seen my fellow ser vants whipped for trying to learn, but to day, here I am on this the greatest avenue in this -great city, with the Bishops and the elders and people of the Methodist Episcopal MISSION CHURCH, CHARLESTON, S. C. Church, speaking at the breaking of ground, where a building is to be erected for the education of the children of my people. I wonder if this is the world I was born in." REV. WILLIAM D. JOHNSON, D.D., Secretary Board of Education. William Decker Johnson was born March 19, 1842, in Calvert County, Md., and at an early age removed with his parents to Balti more, where he attended private schools. He was converted in 1861, and the same year, by Bishop A. W. Wayman, received license to exhort. In 1862 he entered Lin coln University, Pennsylvania, graduating as; valedictorian in 1868. He was the favorite student of the Hon. William E. Dodge, of New York, who educated hundreds of. young people for Christian work. Dr. Johnson had been for sixteen years pastor of various churches, when in 1884 the General Conference at Baltimore elected' him secretary of education. He at once organized the department, and has been twice re-elected to the position for terms of four years. Bishop Atticus G. Haygood,. D.D., LL.D., speaking of his management^ says: "More than most men, he grasps a great problem. His plans are great, but not chimerical. His methods look to the long run, and, with God's favor, will issue in> blessings to the whole people." Mr. Nor man W. Dodge, son of the Hon. William E. Dodge, says : " Rev. William D. John son has been well known and much esteemed by our family for years. My father took a particular interest in him, and helped him in his good work at different times," A Born Orator. Mr. Johnson has many such recommend^- tions, which have been of great service in the educational work. While at college he developed consider able power as a speaker, and has ever since continued on the same line. The Nashville- American, August 2, 1884, speaking of him, says : "He is a born orator, and a man of; superior literary attainments." He has spoken with acceptance in the- Y. M. C. A. halls in Philadelphia and New York, in the Sam Jones Tabernacle at Cartersville, Ga. ; Dr. Talmage's Tabernacle, Brooklyn, N. Y. ; before the Unitarian AFRO-AMERICAN PROGRESS ILLUSTRATED. National Conference at Saratoga, N. Y., and the Centennial Conference of Methodism at Baltimore, Md. His greatest effort was made when a delegate from his church to the General Conference of ,___. the M. E. Church South, sitting in Atlanta, Ga. That address, bearing on the race problem, was copied into all the news papers and translated into several foreign languages. Mr. Johnson has at dif ferent times represented his work in the National Edu cational Association and the American Association of Educators of Colored Youth. During the World's Fair he read papers before the religious and educa tional congresses, and also delivered an address in the Hall of Columbus, Art Pal ace, Chicago, on the Negro Element of the American People. REV. D. A. GRAHAM. This noted divine was born in Princeton, Ind., January 11, 1861. His father was born a slave in Tennessee, but came to Indiana and settled in the early days of that State, where he became one of the most influential Afro- Americans in that vicinity. Young Graham was the first Afro-Ameri can youth graduated in the town of his Nativity. He first followed teaching for six ington, Ind., in the last two places attending to the pastoral work of the church while serving as principal of the school. In 1882 he united with the Indiana A. ST. PAUL'S CHURCH, COLUMBUS, O. M. E. Conference at New Albany, Ind., under Bishop James A. Shorter. After serving four years in the pastorate in Indiana he was sent to Michigan by Bishop years in Princeton, Washington and Bloom- Campbell, and was one of the charter mem> AFRO-AMERICAN PROGRESS ILLUSTRATED. foer^of the Michigan Conference. His four years in that State were a brilliant success, and it is the common verdict that he was the REV. D. A. GRAHAM. most popular Afro-American preacher ever located in Michigan. The famous temper ance lecturer, Mrs. Lucy Thurman, several times stated this fact publicly, during her BETHEL CHURCH, CHICAGO. work in Chicago. He was alike popular with white and colored, on f he platform, as well as in the pulpit. From Michigan he was transferred by Bishop Brown to Minneapolis, and stationed at St. Peter's. The minutes of the Michigan Conference describe his departure from that body in Saginaw as being like a funeral, so dearly was he beloved by the entire con ference. When Bishop Wayman was looking lor a pastor for Bethel Church, Chicago, he con cluded that Elder Graham could fill the bill. His appointment was a great surprise to REV. M. C. MASON. every one, and especially to himself. So young a man had never pastored Bethel, nor any of the churches of equal rank in the connection. But his success has been almost phenomenal, both spiritually and financially, and Bethel has never had a pastor whose influence was so potent, nor of whom she was so proud. REV. M. C. B. MASON, A.M., B.D. Rev. M. C. B. Mason, A.M., B.D., Field Agent Freedmen's Aid and Southern Educa- REV. WILLIAM. E. HOLMES, A. M., Atlanta Baptist Seminary. READING ROOM. HELPING OUR STUDENTS TO HELP THEMSELVES, ATLANTA BAPTIST SEMINARY. LIBRARY. GROUP OF COLLEGE STUDENTS, ATLANTA BAPTIST SEMINARY. AFRO-AMERICAN PROGRESS ILLUSTRATED. 53 tion Society, was born a slave in Louisiana. As soon as an opportunity offered he began to study. He took the full classical course in the New Orleans University, and the theo logical course at Gamon Theological Semin ary, Atlanta, Ga. He is a forcible speaker and is doing good work for the society. Such men indicate the possibilities of the race. Tens of thousands who will die in obscurity would have" done equally well if they could have had the advantages of an education. REV. JULIAN FRANKLIN MAR SHALL. The Baton Rouge District, Louisiana, has made a splendid record, due mainly to the energy and intelligent work of its able and painstaking presiding elder. Mr. Marshall was born in Virginia in 1 847, but has lived since his second year in Louisiana. He was blessed with a pious praying mother whose religious instructions have been a constant stimulant to him all through his life. He has always been studious, a lover of good books and blessed with a splendid memory ; he has performed a prodigious amount of literary work. Indeed, he may be reckoned among the ablest ministers of the church. From 1877, the year in which he was admitted into the Louisiana Conference, he has ably and successfully filled some of the most important appointments within its bounds Alexandria, Shreveport, New Or leans ; and in the office of presiding elder since 1886 he has rendered excellent ser vice. He was a delegate to the General Conference of 1888, and was chosen by Bishop-Elect J. P. Newman, D.D., to repre sent the General Conference in the services of his consecration. In all the positions he has filled he has rendered excellent service, and has been highly esteemed. REV. B. A. J. NIXON, B.D. The following in brief are the positions that have been held by this well-known preacher and educator : Twenty years teacher in Tennessee ; President, Turner High School, Shelbyville, Tenn. ; Trustee, Turner High School ; Trustee, Wilberforce University, Wilberforce, Ohio ; Member, General Educa tional Board, A. M. E. Connection ; Presi ding Elder, Columbia A. M. E. District,. Nashville, Tenn. He is a man of fine presence and varied REV. B. A. J. NIXON, B.D. gifts. Zealous, devoted and thoroughly educated, he has exerted a wide influence and in a marked degree commands the re spect of all associated with him. ST. PAUL'S A. M. CHURCH Raleigh, N. C. This edifice cost $32,000. The corner stone was laid June 24, 1884. The dimen sions are 65 by 97 feet, with chapel on west side. The chapel, 40 by 65 feet, contains Sabbath-school and class-rooms, all under slate roof. The chapel is a part of the main 54 AFRO-AMERICAN PROGRESS IL^QSl rLATED. building, and can be used in times of large .congregations. This large and commodious building reflects great credit upon the congregation, MT. ZION A. M. E. CHURCH, JACKSONVILLE, FLA. being one of the most attractive church edi fices in the city. It is admired for its con venient arrangements which afford the best facilities for carrying on its work. REV. JOHN JASPER. The theory that the sun moves has been advanced by many, but the theory of Mr. Jasper differs from that of nearly every other by being advanced as a Bible argument. Rev. John Jasper was the youngest of twenty-four children, and was born on the Fourth of July, 1812, in the County of Fluvanna, Va. He began his career as cart boy, but was soon made house boy, and further dignified by the promotion to table waiter, tending garden in his spare time. He hired himself out to work by the year and continued in this kind of service for several years. He was always of an astronomical turn of mind, and if he had had the advantage of education, would, doubt less, have made one of the foremost scientists of the times. He was con verted in 1839, and began preaching. He was very successful and was very impressive, especially in funeral sermons, and was in great demand at the time. He has been married three times. He was called to preach in the Third Baptist Church in Petersburg in 1874. His life has been full of arduous work, and from his position as a slave he has risen to considerable wealth. His theory with regard to the move ment of the sun is unique, and he ad vances some very good arguments in favor of it. He has travelled through the North lecturing, and has visited most of the leading cities in the Union. He is very earnest and a man of sound judg ment and good hard sense. Mr. Jasper affords a striking illustra- tration of what can be accomplished by steady industry and perseverance. From the humblest surroundings in early life he has risen to a position of influence. AFRO-AMERICAN PROGRESS ILLUSTRATED. REV. EDWARD W. S. HAMMOND, D.D. Rev. Edward W. S. Hammond, D.D., editor of the Southwestern Christian Advo cate, is ? member of the Lexington Con ference, and was born in Baltimore, Md., February 14, 1842. He is the son of Christian parents, who had formerly been slaves. He was converted at an early age, and attendee, the schools taught in his native city for the benefit of free col ored people. Through the munificence of the late Hon. William E. Dodge, of New York, he was enrolled as a stu. dent of Lincoln University (neat Oxford, Pa.) in 1864, where he pur sued a collegiate and theological course until 1867. In 1872 he was admitted into the Washington Con ference, and appointed to Union Chapel, Cincinnati, Ohio, where he \'1j had marked success. He afterward I filled the following appointments : \ Paris, Ky., 1874-76; Hardinsburg, Ky., 1876-78; Lexington, Ky., 1878-80; Presiding Elder of the Indiana District, 1881-84; Coving- ton, Ky., 1884-86; Presiding Elder of the Ohio District, 1887-92. He was elected reserve delegate to the General Conference of 1876, and delegate in 1880, when he made a speech in favor of the election of a colored Bishop which attracted general attention. He was elected reserve delegate to the General Conference of 1884, and a delegate to that of 1888 and that of 1892, from which body he was elected editor of the South- western Christian Advocate. He received the [honorary degree of Doctor of Divinity from New Orleans University in May, 1888. He has written extensively for the religious and secular press, and has been generally successful in the several positions to which he has been called. The foregoing examples of successful Afro- Americans speak for themselves. Says the Hon. Frederick Douglass: When we con sider that, during two centuries, the colored people of this country were doomed to igno rance and illiteracy, the record presented seems almost incredible. No one, fifty years REV. JOHN JASPER. ago, could have imagined the possibility of such intellectual energy and activity among them. The eager and persistent efforts of these people to avail themselves of the power of education is a matter of amazement. The gates of knowledge were scarcely ajar when in they rushed pell mell, almost trampling upon one another in the race to reach its most exalted benefits. AFRO-AMERICAN PROGRESS ILLUSTRATED. AFRO=AMERICAN COLLEGES AND INDUSTRIAL SCHOOLS. WHAT our people can accom plish by education has been shown during the last genera tion. There is an old saying that "what has been done can be done again." A large number of our race have proved their ability to master not only the ordinary branches of learning, but also to meet the demands of the "higher education." This is an undeniable fact, and is valuable as showing that the colored man can be taught and trained for all professions and pursuits. He has that inquiring mind, which is one of the first essentials for obtaining knowledge. He has a praiseworthy curiosity for prying into what he does not know already. He is eager to learn. Wherever and whenever educational advantages have been placed within his reach, he has made diligent use of them. Common schools and higher institu tions of learning have only to be thrown open to him and he will walk in, proud of his new and grand opportunities and ambi tious to succeed. His mind and heart are stirred by the new era that has dawned upon him, his look is upward, and he begins to understand that the noblest manhood and the highest posi tions of citizenship, wealth and social influence, can be gained only by self-culture and education. What is thought upon this subject by one of the leading Afro-American educators may be learned from the following article by Principal F. G. Snelson, of the Public School, Cartersville, Ga. The article is entitled, "What Ground, in what Studies should be Covered by a Grammar School Course?" and is taken from the columns of the Negro Educational Journal. Principal Snelson is a representative man of our race, and this renders his views upo.i the importance of primary education of special interest. Mr. Snelson says : The importance of a thorough and comprehensive Grammar School course is becoming more and more apparent every year. In the Higher Insti tutions of learning, in Trade Schools and Business Universities pupils who have made a thorough mastery of the fundamentals of the Grammar School course seldom fail of marked success in the completion of their courses of studies and in their business careers. Every working man needs to know far more than the trade he has learned. If he has not a brain educated to think, he will surely be outwitted by the superior intelli gence of contractors. " Hand-skill is essen tial but hands must be moved by a thinking head," says one very wisely. The Ground to be covered demands : In the Form of a Story. Thorough preparation the bringing to gether all the helps, materials and incentives necessary to incite the acute interest of the teacher and prepare him for the lesson. The pupil himself must be prepared also ; his interest fully awakened and his expecta tions of receiving some good covetously- aroused. The Ground to be covered requires the powers of admirable presentation. The German idea is that the teacher shall relate the lesson in the form of a story thus hold ing out the idea of a far higher grade of teaching force and showing the demands for better Normal training. The Ground to be covered will suggest the clearest association of those notions and AFRO-AMERICAN PROGRESS ILLUSTRATED. 57 ideas that have a resemblance, brought together, compared, and absorbed and truly assimilated from the broad and enchanting field of knowledge. Stoy's watchword, "Repetition, repeti tion, eternal repetition," will strengthen immensely in one harmonious whole and into the conscious possession of full knowl- has been learned. The recent scientific term is apperception, by which is meant the intellectual appropriation of all the informa tion acquired. Its products may be called habits of body and habits of thought, or the true discipline of the head, heart and hand. It may be called culture, produced by ideas internally assimilated like food eaten, digested JUBILEE HALL, FISK UNIVERSITY, NASHVILLE, TENN. edge, the memory and logical powers of the pupil. It will give completeness, it will unite the old and the new, it will organize disconnected materials into a system and turn the mental possessions into elements of i power. The Ground to be covered should ever keep in view the familiar application of what and wrought into blood, bone and sinew of perfect usefulness. Our Grammar School course demands the greatest attention, because the vast majority of our school population will never reach beyond its narrow confines. It is the chosen few who enter the colleges ; it is the select alone that ever are blessed with AFRO-AMERICAN PROGRESS ILLUSTRATED. the advantages of trade and professional education. Therefore the potent elements of the successful lives of the great army of our youth must be forcefully impressed by the grammar school teacher. As regards the number of studies used, our working watchword should be, Non multa sed multum, not a superfluity, but an appropriate selection and excellence of text books. What is known in modern pedagogy ral history,, physics and physiology. Among those of the second class may be mentioned reading, drawing, spelling, penmanship, music and composition. The purpose of the "thought" studies is to furnish food material and stimulate concepts. The purpose of " expression " studies is to intensify impres sions made, facilitate analysis of concepts, and make them more definite and clear. Geography should be the outgrowth of CHRISMAN HALL, CLARK UNIVERSITY, ATLANTA, GA. as co-ordination of studies should be of spe cial consideration. The program or course of studies may be divided into two classes : 1st, those studies which deal with objects of thought and that furnish the best material of knowledge ; 2d, those studies which deal only or for the most part with simple expres sion. Among those of the first class may be named geography, history, arithmetic, natu- the natural sciences ; political geography should be the outgrowth of physical geogra phy, and both should be the stepping-stones to history. Such co-ordination involves, 1st, the teaching of clay modeling of the various grand divisions of the earth in its physical phenomena ; 2d, the teaching of spelling with composition ; 3d, the teaching of composition with all the "thought" studies, with a comprehensive exercise of AFRO-AMERICAN PROGRESS ILLUSTRATED. 59 the simple applications of grammatical con structions of subject, predicate and object; 4th, the insertion of general reading matter bearing directly on thought studies ; and, 5th, the weaving of such moral ideals from all the studies, separately or in combination, :as will display to the pupils the practical manifestations of good will, benevolence, justice, temperance, charity, etc. The field of school ethics is exceedingly narrowed, Simon N. Pattin. of the University of Penn sylvania, declares that children can be edu cated to form higher combinations of things which, taken together, give much larger sums of pleasure, etc. The Ground to be covered in the Gram mar School course should embrace the sub jects of taxation, its purposes, rightfulness, methods, justice, its benefits and necessities ; what role these have played in wars and MORGAN COLLEGE, but there remains a ray of hope for efficient moral training. The will must be moved by motives of the truest moral stamina. Mythology, that idealized history, the legends, folk-lore, fairy tales and dramas, are all freighted with ethical lessons of the bless ings of good-will, and the curses of ill-will and injustice; the inevitable return of the deed upon the doer; and the moral grandeur of those who obey the laws of conscience with unswerving determination. Professor BALTIMORE, MD. revolutions, and what the rights .n ere a contradiction of the religion that they professed. His seeming indifference, therefore, was not a protest r.gainst Chris- H tianity, but against hypocrisy. As a matter of fact, he was a strong believer in God and would not hesitate to so express himself. During his last days he was a regular at tendant at the Metropolitan A. M. E. Church at Washington City and would often be seen to weep. During the pastorate of Dr. John W. Beckett, he would often ask him to sing, " Seeking^for me," which he called his favor ite hymn. That which attracts men to Christ, is not so much Christian profession as Chris tian life. It is only a wonder that the Ameri can phase of Christianity has not cooled the ardor of many more, who are the victims of its inconsistencies. A Noble Life. As a politician, he cast his lot with the "party of freedom," and there remained. He could see the shortcomings of that party and would often administer a rebuke, but he never saw the wisdom of changing it for another. In the hour of great political ex citement, when men were honestly in doubt as to the best course to pursue, Mr. Doug lass was a wise and safe leader. He was not governed by sentimentalism, but ready always to give a reason for his course. His work was well done. He has gone to his reward. He lived an honorable and useful life, and was a great blessing to his day and generation. His place can never be filled ; perhaps there will be no occasion for it, but for the work that yet remains to be done, the God who raised him up will raise up others. We shall miss Mr. Douglass for his wisdom, his influence and his constant advocacy of human rights. No one among us had the ear of the American people as he had it, and no one was ever truer to a sacred trust than was he. A grateful people will ever cherish his mem- 114 THE GUIDE TO SUCCESS. ory. When he takes his rightful place in history, it will be as a great man, " one of earth's great spirits, born in servitude and nursed in scorn." The following incident is too good to be lost. A few years ago Mr. Douglass went back to Talbot County, Md., where he was born a slave, to buy some of the prop erty which, in the old days, he was forbidden by law to own, because nature had colored his skin brown, and white men had, by their superior strength, been able to buy and sell his ancestors. While there he was invited to address a colored school, and this, accord ing to a writer in Kate Field's Washington, was what he said : " I once knew a little colored boy whose mother and father died when he was but six years old. He was a slave, and had no one to care for him. He slept on a dirt floor in a hovel, and in cold weather would crawl into a meal bag headforemost, and leave his feet in the ashes to keep them warm. Often he would roast an ear of corn and eat it to .satisfy his hunger, and many times has he crawled under the barn or stable and secured eggs, which he would roast in the fire and eat. " That boy did not wear pants like you do,, but a tow linen shirt. Schools were unknown to him, and he learned to spell from an old Webster's spelling book and to read and write from posters on cellar and barn doors, while boys and men would help him. He would then preach and speak, and soon be came well known. He became Presidential Elector, United States Marshal, United States Recorder, United States Diplomat, and accu mulated some wealth. He wore broadcloth and didn't have to divide crumbs with the dogs under the table. That boy was Fred erick Douglass. " What was possible for me is possible for you. Don't think because you are colored you can't accomplish anything. Strive earn estly to add to your knowledge. So long as you remain in ignorance so long will you fail to command the respect of your fellow men." Who could add anything to that which would not spoil it ? Mr. Douglass was a noble specimen of a self-made man. EDUCATE YOURSELF. NO man or woman can accomplish as much without education as with it. Great natural abilities have enabled many who were not high ly educated to rise in the world, but they did this not by lack of training, but in spite of it. The men and women of our race who have become distinguished have succeeded in ob taining a fair education. Look, for instance, at Mr. John R. Lynch, who has the proud distinction of having sat under the Capitol at Washington, to repre sent one of the Congressional districts of Mississippi. He was born in Concordia Parish, La., September 10, 1847. He remained in slavery until that great Moses of the .colored race, Abraham Lincoln, sent forth the proclamation that snapped forever the chains of the enslaved. It will readily be understood that he had no opportunities in early life for self-improvement, but after ward, when able to do so, applied himself closely to study and made rapid progress. His mother, having been sold to a resident of Natchez, Miss., and removed to this place, he had an opportunity to attend evening school when the town was captured and held by the Union troops. Afterwards, under private instructors, he made good use of his time in learning the English branches. THE GUIDE TO SUCCESS. 115 In 1869 he was appointed by Governor Ames justice of the peace for Adams County. Soon afterward he was elected to the State Legislature, and being chosen for a second term he served as Speaker of the House. He was elected to the Forty-third Congress, and gave such satisfaction that he was re-elected, but was not allowed to take his seat, which was contested by his opponent. He was Temporary Chairman of the National Republican Convention at Chicago in 1884, and was appointed fourth auditor in the Treasury Department by President Harrison. Mr. Lynch is a man of cultured mind and is an orator of commanding ability. Speaking in Congress of the loyalty of the colored people to the government during the war and of what they deserve from their fellow citizens, he said : " They were faithful and true to you then ; they are no less so to-day. And yet they ask no special favors as a class ; they ask no special protection as a race. They feel that they purchased their inheritance, when upon the battle-fields of their country they watered the tree of liberty with the precious blood HON. JOHN R. LYNCH. that flowed from their loyal veins. [Loud applause.] They ask no favors; they demand what they desire and must have an equal chance in the race of life." HONESTY. A GENTLEMAN, jumping from an omnibus in the City of New York, dropped his pocket-book, and had gone some distance be fore he discovered his loss ; then hastily returning, inquired of every passenger whom he met, if a pocket-book had been seen. Finally, meeting a little girl ten years old, to whom he made the same inquiry, she asked: "What kind of a pocket-book?" He described it then unfolding her apron : "Is this it?" "Yes, that is mine; come into this store with me." They entered, he opened the book, counted the notes, and examined the papers. "They are all right," said he; "fifteen notes of a thousand dollars each. Had they fallen into other hands, I might never have seen them again. Take,, then, my little girl, this note of a thousand dollars, as a reward for your honesty, and a lesson to me to be more careful in future." " No," said the girl, " I cannot take it. I have been taught at Sunday-school not to keep what is not mine, and my parents would not be pleased if I took the note home ; they might suppose I had stolen it." "Well, then, my girl, show me where your parents live." The girl took him to a humble tenement in an obscure street, rude but cleanly. He informed the parents of the case. They told him their child had acted correctly. They were poor, it was true^ but their pastor had always told them not to set their hearts 116 THE GUIDE TO SUCCESS. in early life and practiced what she learned. Many Afro-Americans have held, and are holding now, po sitions where the most sterling integrity and honesty are in con stant demand. For example, such a man is Douglass B. McCary, who is cashier of the Capital Savings Bank. In such a position as this a reputation for the strictest honesty must be maintained; otherwise, the place could not be held for an hour. You should be accounted thor oughly honest honest in all your dealings, honest in your professions, honest in thought, word and deed. This is the sure and safe road to success. DOUGLASS B. McCARY, Cashier of the Capital Savings Bank. on rich gifts. The gentleman told them they must take it, and he was convinced they would make a good use of it, from the principle they had professed. The pious parents then blessed their benefactor, for such he proved. They paid their debts, which had disturbed their peace, and the benevolent giver furnished the husband and father employ ment in his occupation as a car penter, enabling him to rear an in dustrious family in comparative happiness. This little girl became the wife of a respectable tradesman of New York, and had reason to rejoice that she was taught aright WILLIAM E. MATTHEWS, LL.B. THE GUIDE TO SUCCESS. 117 Another gentleman who illustrates this cardinal virtue very forcibly is Mr. W. E. Matthews. He was born in Baltimore, July, 1845. While in this city he was a promi nent member of literary institutions. He graduated from the Law Department of Howard University. After serving a num ber of years in the Post Office Department at Washington, he opened a real estate and broker's office. Few men among us under stand so well as Mr. Matthews the true handling of money. His business integrity is something of which any man might well be proud. SELF-RELIANCE. PRESIDENT GARFIELD once said : "A pound of pluck is worth a ton of luck. Let not poverty stand as an obstacle in your way. Poverty is uncomfortable, as I can testify ; but nine times out of ten the best thing that can hap pen to a young man is to be tossed over board and be compelled to sink or swim for himself. In all my acquaintances I have never known one to be drowned who was worth saving." You should be able to face a duty or a trial. Walk up to it with determination in every look and action. Self-reliance is op posed to cowardice. It does not belong to weak characters. You find it wherever any thing worth doing is done, worth achieving is achieved. It can stand a shock without fainting. It doesn't mope around with cam phor and a smelling-bottle. It doesn't run when a leaf rustles. Its hair is not likely to stand straight up through fright. It doesn't run for ghosts ; it marches right up, and the ghost runs. Self-reliance has done won ders. If you have it, thank God for it ; if you haven't it, you ought to have an assured income, someone to pay for your food and clothes, and give you a decent burial, when, fortunately for the world, you die. This magnificent virtue has had its praises sung in epics and told in history. Not half enough has ever been said about it. Go on telling its achievements for ages, and you would then only be in the first chapter. Bronze and marble commemorate it, but its glories and triumphs will last when bronze and marble have crumbled. Here now is a fine illustration of it. The name is well known and is universally hon ored. It is that of Hon. P. B. S. Pinchbank. The fact that Mr. Pinchback has risen from a humble position to be Governor of Louisiana, proves that he is possessed of remarkable ability. He was born May 10, 1837. When about six years old he was sent by his father to Cincinnati to attend Gilmore's High School. Through family misfortunes he was com pelled to start out in the world for himself at the age of twelve, securing a position as cabin boy on a canal boat at eight dollars a month. From this time on, he followed steamboating and gradually rose to be steward of the boat, which was the highest place any colored man could gain. In 1862 General Butler, commander of the Gulf, called upon the free men of color of Louisiana to take up arms in defence of the Union. Mr. Pinchback at once organ ized a company, of which he became captain, and was mustered into service. His short career in the army was attended by many controversies and perils in the effort to main tain his own and the dignity of the colored troops. In 1867 he made his first move in the 118 THE GUIDE TO SUCCESS. political field and from that time on held many important positions. He became an HON. P. B. S. PINCHBACK, Ex-Governor of Louisiana. editor in 1870, and through his newspaper largely influenced the State Legislature. The next year he became Lieutenant-Governor to fill the vacancy caused by the death of Hon. Oscar J. Dunn. The following year he was nominated by a large, enthusiastic Republican State Convention for Governor. There were many complications at this time in the political situa tion, and after many conflicts and much excitement, Mr. Pinchback X.^ was made Governor until Janu ary, 1873. He was at once elected United States Senator for the term of six years. But a conspiracy existed to keep him out of Congress. He has held many responsible positions and in each and all has shown himself to be a man of mark. He illustrates forcibly the great virtue of self-reliance, is a man of independent thought and action, and has frequently passed through emergencies where only his own nerve and firmness have saved him from defeat. It may safely be said that he is the most prominent representative? of our race in the Southwest. PERSEVERANCE. Y 'OU must not give up. You must go at it and keep at it. Fitful effort accomplishes very little ; it is the long and steady pull that does wonders. You must remember John Wesley's motto: "All at it and always at it." This grand virtue has been the making deeply moved with his appearance that he sent him a congratulatory letter and con ferred upon him the title of chevalier in rec ognition of his dramatic genius. He stuck nobly to his calling and reached the top. SELF=RESPECT. SELF-RESPECT is the noblest gar ment with which a man may clothe himself the most elevating feeling with which the mind can be inspired. One of Pythagoras' wisest max ims, in his "Golden Verses," is that with which he enjoins the pupil to " reverence himself.' ' Borne up by this high idea, he will not defile his body by sensuality, nor his mind by servile thoughts. This sentiment carried into daily life, will be found at the root of all the virtues cleanliness, sobriety, chastity, morality and religion. " The pious and just honoring of our selves," said Milton, " may be thought the radical moisture and fountain-head from whence every laudable and worthy enter prise issues forth." To think meanly of one's self, is to sink in one's own estima tion as well as in the estimation of others. And as thoughts are, so will the acts be. Man cannot aspire if he looks down ; if he will rise, he must look up. The very humblest may be sustained by the proper indulgence of this feeling. Poverty itself may be lifted and lighted up by self-respect ; and it is truly a noble sight to see a poor man hold himself upright amid his temptations, and refuse to demean himself by low actions. One way in which self-culture may be degraded is by regarding it too exclusively as a means of " getting on." Viewed in this light, it is unquestionable that education is one of the best investments of time and labor. In any line of life, intelligence will enable a man to adapt himself more readily to circumstances, suggest improved methods of working, and render him more apt, skilled and effective in all respects. He who works with his head as well as his hands, will come to look at his business with a clearer eye ; and he will become con scious of increasing power perhaps the most cheering consciousness the human mind can cherish. The power of self-help will gradually grow ; and in proportion to a man's self-respect, will he be armed against 150 THE GUIDE TO SUCCESS. the temptation of low indulgences. Society and its actions will be regarded with quite a new interest, his sympathies will widen and enlarge, and he will thus be attracted to work for others as well as for himself. Self-discipline and self-control are the beginnings of practical wisdom ; and these must have their root in self-respect. Hope springs from it hope, which is the compan ion of power, and the mother of success ; PROF. D. A. STRAKER. for who hopes strongly has within him the gift of miracles. The humblest may say : "To respect my self, to develop myself this is my true duty in life. An integral and responsible part of the great system of society, I owe it to society and to its Author not to degrade or destroy either my body, mind or iustincts. On the contrary, I am bound to the best of my power to give to those parts of my con stitution the highest degree of perfection possible. I am not only to suppress the evil, but to evoke the good elements in my nature. And, as I respect myself, so am I equally bound to respect others, as they, on their part, are bound to respect me." Hence mutual respect, justice and order, of which law becomes the written record and guar antee. We might point to many who give force and point to these commonplace, yet weighty truths, among them Prof. D. Augustus Straker, LL.D. Prof. Straker was born in the Island of Barbadoes, West Indies, in the year 1842. His father died when he was very young, and his mother, a hard working woman, was left to take care of his education. He be gan school at the age of seven, and later finished the English course at the Central Public School of the Island. He was put to learn tailor ing, but persuaded his mother to allow him to continue his studies, and gave his attention to French and Latin. Came to Teach the Slaves. At the age of seventeen he was made principal of St. Mary's School, and taught in St. Amis and St. Giles Schools on the Island. In 1868 he decided to come to America to teach the newly-emancipated slaves, and taught under the auspices of the Episcopal Church and the Freedmen's Bureau in Louisville, Ky. He entered the law school of Howard Uni versity in 1870, and graduated with honors in 1871. He held the position of stenogra pher for Gen. O. O. Howard, of the Freed men's Bureau, and teacher in the normal and preparatory department of the college. THE GUIDE TO SUCCESS. 151 From 1871 to 1875 held the position of first- class clerk in the Auditor's Office of the United States Treasury Department, and later as second-class clerk. He was then appointed Inspector of Customs, Charles ton, S. C. He was three times elected to the Legislature from Orangeburg County, but was each time denied his seat, and after wards formed a law partnership with the Hon. R. B. Elliot. In 1882 he was called to the deanship and professorship of law of Allen University, Columbia, S. C. Since then he has given strict attention to his profession, and has PROF. T. MCCANTS STEWART. won many noted cases. He is an orator of rare ability, and has written and delivered many fine lectures. Mr. Straker is now a member of the A. M. E. Church, though he claims to hold no special denominational views. He has held the position of Judge of the Circuit Court of Wayne County, Michigan. Another distinguished man who may well be mentioned in this connection is Prof. T. McCants Stewart, LL.B. He was born of free parents in Charleston, S. C., December 28, 1852, and began school in his native city at the age of five. He was sent to Howard University, Washington, D. C., in 1869, and from there, in 1873, he went to the South Carolina University and graduated in 1875, receiving the degree of A. B. Graduating from the law department of the same institution in the same year, he re ceived the title LL.B., and was counsel in a murder case immediately thereafter. A Visit to Africa. After practicing law for two years, and at the same time being professor of mathematics in the State Agricultural College, he entered Princeton College, where he studied for two years ; then, after ordination, he was given the pastoral charge of Bethel Methodist Episcopal Church in New York City. Here he remained until 1883, when he accepted a position as professor in Liberia College, Africa. After travelling in Europe for some time he went to Africa, but soon became dissat isfied and returned to America, lectured awhile and resumed the practice of law in 1886. Mr. Stewart has retired from the ministry and gives his entire time to the prac tice of law. He is gifted as a lecturer and reflects credit upon the race. He is a true man, and everywhere, and under almost all circumstances, however externally adverse on our wild frontiers, in cottage hamlets, in the close alleys of great towns the true man may grow. He who tills a space of earth scarce bigger than is needed for his grave, may work as faithfully-, and to as good purpose, as the heir to thou sands. The most common workshop may thus be a school of industry, science and good morals, on the one hand; or of idle ness, folly and depravity, on the other. It all depends on the individual men, and the use they make of the opportunities for good which offer themselves. THE GUIDE TO SUCCESS. BUSINESS FIRST, PLEASURE AFTERWARDS. EVEN on the lowest ground that of personal enjoyment constant use ful occupation is necessary. He who labors not cannot enjoy the reward of labor. "We sleep sound," said Sir Walter Scott, " and our waking hours HON. EDWARD W. BLYDEN, LL are happy, when they are employed; and a little sense of toil is necessary to the enjoy ment of leisure, even when earned by study and sanctioned by the discharge of duty." Work hurts nobody ; it is true, there are men who die of overwork ; but many more die of selfishness, indulgence and idleness. Where men break down by overwork, it is most commonly from want of duly ordering their lives, and neglect of the ordinary con ditions of physical health. We doubt whether hard work, steadily and regularly carried on, ever yet hurt anybody. Then, again, length of years is no proper test of length of life. A man's life is to be measured by what he does in it, and what he feels in it. The more useful work the man does, and the more he thinks and feels, the more he really lives. The idle, useless man, no matter to what extent his life may be prolonged, merely vege- tates. The early teachers of Christianity ennobled the lot of toil by their example. " He that will not work," said the Apostle Paul, " neither shall he eat ; " and he glorified himself in that he had labored with his hands, and had not been chargeable to any man. When St. Boniface landed in Britain he came with a Gospel in one hand and a carpenter's rule in the other; and from England he afterwards passed over into Germany, carrying thither the art of building. Luther also, in the midst of a multitude of other employments, worked diligently for a living, earning his bread by gardening, building, turning, and even clock- making. Constant useful occupation is wholesome, not only for the body, but for the mind. While the slothful man drags himself indo- .D. THE GUIDE TO SUCCESS. 153 lently through life, and the better part of his nature sleeps a deep sleep, if not morally and also spiritually dead, the energetic man is a source of activity and enjoyment to all who come within reach of his influence. Even any ordinary drudgery is better than idle ness. We wish to mention several famous men who have achieved great success by strict attention to their calling. Without doubt, the most learned man of the race is Dr. Blyden, who was born in St. PROF. JUSTIN HOLLAND. Thomas, one of the Danish West Indies, August 3, 1832; but lived in the United States for a considerable time in his youth. In 1851 he, with his brother, went to Lib eria, where he is still. He was educated at, and afterwards became principal of, the Alex andria High School, and has held many positions of trust under the Liberian Gov ernment. He is a distinguished linguist, a prolific magazine writer and a profound student of the Arabic language. It is said that he speaks and writes fluently forty different languages. He was at one time a Presby terian preacher, but is now an advocate of the Mohammedan religion, with which faith he has had every opportunity to familiarize him self. Mr. Justin Holland won distinction in his profession by long and patient endeavor. He was born in Norfolk, Va., in 1819. In childhood his talent for music bespoke so much of a bright future that he determined to cultivate it. When fourteen he left the home of his birth and went to Boston, from which he made his way to Chelsea, Mass. At this place he earnestly began the study of music. He evinced much skill on the eight-keyed flute. He was obliged to work hard to defray his expenses, which were quite heavy, and practice part of the time allowed him for sleep. Musician and Author. In 1841 he entered Oberlin College and worked diligently. In 1845 he went to Cleveland, and was successful in getting in the best families to teach music. In 1848 he published many arrangements for the guitar, and also wrote instruction books for the same instrument. He is the author of " Choral Reform " and " Holland's Method for the Guitar." Beside being a fine guitar ist, Mr. Holland was also a fine pianist and flutist. He was a distinguished Mason, and has held many important offices in the lodge, he died in the city of New Orleans. Another name of singular merit and aptly illustrating the advice here given of attend ing first to business and your daily pursuit is that of Prof. J. C. Corbin, who was born in Chillicothe, Ohio, March 26, 1833, and was educated in the winter schools of Chilli cothe. At the age of fifteen he went to Louisville, Ky., to assist in teaching. After 154 THE GUIDE TO SUCCESS. teaching some years, he went to the Ohio University, and was able to enter the Sopho more Class. Graduating in 1853, he re turned to Louisville, and was employed as PROF. J. C. CORBIN. clerk in a mercantile agency, and then in a bank. He was engaged as a reporter for the Arkansas Republican, and went to Arkansas in 1872. Here he was made chief clerk in the Little Rock Post-office, and then was elected State Superintendent of Public In struction, in which position he served two years. After teaching two years in Lincoln Institute, he returned to Little Rock, and was sent to Pine Bluff to establish the Branch Normal College, of which school he has been principal ever since. Professor Corbin is a fluent reader of Greek, Latin, German, French, Spanish, Italian, Hebrew and Danish, and is especially proficient in mathematics. He is a Baptist in denomina tion and a thorough church-worker. In this connection we present to the pub lic a sketch of John G. Jones, Esq., who is a brilliant and successful clear-headed lawyer at the Chicago bar. He was born on the 1 8th day of September, 1849, a t Ithica, Thompkins County, State of New York. Lawyer Jones was admitted to the bar by the Supreme Court of Illinois in 1883. He is a prominent man and highly respected by all. He is full of energy, zeal and deter mination, and has the courage at all times to express his convictions. He has done much to advance and promote the interests of his race, which will always be appreciated and remembered by his fellow countrymen. On the recommendation of the late Sen ator John A. Logan, of Illinois, and the late Senator Conkling, of New York, Mr. Jones was appointed by President Grant as Special United States Commissioner to the Island of Cuba to investigate the complaints and charges that had been made about the colored people of the United States being captured and sold there as slaves. Mr. Jones was the first man in this country that gathered the statistics of the amount of property that the colored people owned in the United States of America. CHARLES W. ANDERSON. Lawyer John G. Jones is a thirty-third degree Mason, and has the honor of now being the highest and most distinguished colored Mason in the world. He was the THE GUIDE TO SUCCESS. 155 first colored Mason in the United States of America to have the degree of the Mystic Shrine of Freemasonry conferred upon him, and with power and authority granted to him by the Grand Council of Arabia to confer the degree upon the colored Masons in this country. He is holding a high and impor tant position in the Order, as Most Imperial Grand Potentate of the Imperial Grand Council of the Mystic Shrine of Masonry for North and South America. He makes a success of whatever he undertakes. NATURAL SOME one has said that labor is a sub stitute for genius. There are per sons who have great natural ability, and are gifted to a remarkable degree. It is not certain, however, that they will, on this account, make life a grand success. Sir Joshua Reynolds, the renowned painter, whose works are masterpieces, was so earnest a believer in the force of industry that he held that all men might achieve excellence if they would but exercise the power of assiduous and patient working. He held that drudgery lay on the road to genius, and that there was no limit to the proficiency of an artist except the limit of his own pains taking. He would not believe in what is called inspiration, but only in study and labor. "Excellence," he said, "is never granted to man but as the reward of labor." " If you have great talents, industry will improve them ; if you have but moderate abilities, industry will supply the deficiency. Nothing is denied to well-directed labor ; nothing is to be obtained without it." Sir Fowell Bux- ton was an equal believer in the power of study ; and he entertained the modest idea that he could do as well as other men if he The foregoing lessons of success through steady endeavor are also taught in the bril liant career of Mr. Charles W. Anderson. He is a graduate of Yale College, and was private secretary to the State Treasurer of New York. He delivered an oration on Lincoln's Birthday before the Marquet Club of Chicago, one of the leading Republican Clubs of the West, which marked him at once as a scholar and an orator. He is a thorough worker, a man o f rare endowments, and wins by acknowledged merit. ABILITY. devoted to the pursuit double the time and labor that they did. It is the use we make of the powers in trusted to us, which constitutes our only just claim to respect. He who employs his one talent aright is as much to be honored as he to whom ten talents have been given. There is really no more personal merit attaching to the possession of superior intellectual powers than there is in the succession to a large o estate. How are those powers used how is that estate employed ? The mind may accumulate large stores of knowledge with out any useful purpose ; but the knowledge must be allied to goodness and wisdom, and embodied in upright character, else it is naught. What Makes the Man. It is not ease, but effort not facility, but difficulty, that makes men. There is, per haps, no station in life, in which difficulties have not to be encountered and overcome before any decided measure of success can be achieved. Those difficulties are, how ever, our best instructors, as our mistakes often form our best experience. Charles James Fox was accustomed to say that he hoped more for a man who failed, and yet 156 THE GUIDE TO SUCCESS. went on in spite of his failure, than from the Buoyant career of the successful. " It is all very well," said he, " to tell me rliat a young man has distinguished himself by a brilliant first speech. He may go on, or he may be satisfied with his first triumph ; but show me a young man who has not suc ceeded at first, but has gone on, and that young man will do better than most of those who succeeded at the first trial." HON. SAMUEL R. LOWERY. We learn wisdom from failure much more than from success. We often discover what will do, by finding out what will not do ; and probably he who never made a mistake never made a discovery, It was the failure in the attempt to make a sucking-pump act, when the working-bucket was more than thirty- three feet above the surface of the water to be raised, that led observant men to study the law of atmospheric pressure, and opened a new field of research to the genius of Galileo, Torrecelli and Boyle. John Hunter used to remark that the art of surgery would not advance until professional men had the courage to publish their failures as well as their successes. Watt, the engineer, said of all things most wanted in mechanical engineering was a history of failures : " We want," he said, " a book of blots." But if you fail once, go right ahead and don't stop for trifles. In this connec tion let us point to Hon. Samuel R. Lowery, whose perseverance and in dustry are worthy of note. He was born December 9, 1830. His mother was a free woman, a Cherokee, and his father was a slave. He lost his mother at the age of eight years. The young man tried to get learning by working at the Franklin College and studying privately under the Rev. Talbot Fanning. He began teaching school at the age of sixteen, and for four years had marked success. In 1849 he united with the Church of the Disciples and began preaching that faith. He married in 1858 and removed to Canada, returning to the States after three years and settling on a farm in Ohio. In 1863 he went to Nashville and preached to the free men and colored soldiers ; then served as chaplain of the Ninth United States Heavy Artillery until the close of the war. After the war he began the study of law, and was admitted to the bar. In 1875 he removed to Hunts- ville, Ala., where he continued the practice of law, preaching until 1877, when he took up the culture of silk worms. He has re-| ceived very little encouragement from his own city, but has, nevertheless, made a suc cess of the enterprise. THE GUIDE TO SUCCESS. 157 Thus he conquered success in spite of obstacles. The very greatest things great thoughts, great discoveries, inventions have usually been nurtured in hardship, often pondered over in sorrow, and at length stablished with difficulty. Spoiled by Great Ability. Beethoven said of Rossini that he had in him the stuff to have made a good musician if he had only, when a boy, been well flogged ; but that he had been spoiled by the facility with which he composed. Men who feel their strength within them need not fear to encounter adverse opinions ; they have far greater reason to fear undue praise and too friendly criticism. When Mendels sohn was about to enter the orchestra at Birmingham on the first performance of his "Elijah," he said, laughingly, to one of his friends and critics: "Stick your claws into me. Don't tell me what you like, but what you don't like ! " It has been said, and truly, that it k che defeat that tries the general more than the victory. Washington lost more battles than he gained; but he succeeded in the end. The Romans, in their most victorious cam paigns, almost invariably began with defeats. Moreau used to be compared by his com panions to a drum, which nobody hears of except it be beaten. Wellington's military genius was per fected by encounter with difficulties of ap parently the most overwhelming character, but which only served to move his resolu tion, and bring out more prominently his great qualities as a man and a general. So the skilful mariner obtains his best experi ence amid storms and tempests, which train him to self-reliance, courage and the highest discipline ; and we probably owe to rough seas and wintry nights the best training of our race of seamen, who are certainly not surpassed by any in the world. In this way your native ability is put to the test, is developed and grows with every new effort. But be sure you find out what you are fitted for, and, if you have a talent for any one thing, this points out your life work. This is what William A. Hazel, of St. Paul, Minn., did, of whom we will give you a sketch. Distanced All Competitors. In a competition with nine firms for designs for windows for a Catholic Church in Austin, Minn., he won over all competi tors. The decision and the award for putting in the stained glass windows was made to a company in St. Paul against eight other firms. The award was made on the merits of the designs alone, as the cost of the win dows, $3,000, was specified. Mr. Hazel's designs won, and the salient feature of his success is that all his competitors were white men, he being an Afro-American and South ern born. Mr. Hazel, however, is an acknowledged artist in his line of business as an architect, decorator and designer, and this success is not the first that has rewarded his skill and conception as an artist. He is a man about forty years old, handsome, though quite dark, intelligent and accomplished in manner and well-educated. He was born in Wilmington, N. .C. He received a public school education at Cam bridge, Mass., and at the age of seventeen entered the service of a Boston architect as office boy. He took a liking to the work and soon acquired considerable knowledge of architectural draughtsmanship. His work was continued with leading architects in New York city, and on returning to Boston he took up the study of decorative art, filling 1-58 THE GUIDE TO SUCCESS. the position of designer of stained glass de corations with a Boston concern. Mr. Hazel has written considerable upon the subject of decorative art, having read papers before the Minneapolis Society of Fine Arts Class in Architecture at the State University, and before the Minnesota Chap ter of the American Institute of Architects. Another name deserves mention as an il lustration of cultivating one's natural ability. Granville T. Woods was born in Columbus, Ohio, April 23, 1856. At an early age he learned the machinist and blacksmith trades. He secured employment on a Western rail road, and, having a great deal of leisure, took up the study of electricity. He re ceived two years' special training in electrical and mechanical engineering. He is the in ventor of the " Induction Telegraph," a system for communicating to and from mov ing trains. Energy of Will. This invention cost him much study, and any man of less determination and persist ency would have failed. He had a strong will, and was bound to succeed, and it should never be forgotten that energy of will self- originating force is the soul of every great character. Where it is, there is life ; where it is not, there is faintness, helplessness and despondency. "The strong man and the waterfall," says the proverb, " channel their own path." The energetic leader of noble spirit not only wins a way for himself, but car ries others with him. His every act has a personal significance, indicating vigor, inde pendence and self-reliance, and unconsciously commands respect, admiration and homage. Such intrepidity of character characterized Luther, Cromwell, Washington, Henry Clay, Andrew Jackson, Pitt, Wellington, Frederick Douglass and all great leaders of men. " I am convinced," said Mr. Gladstone, in describing the qualities of Lord Palmerston in the House of Commons, shortly after his death "I am convinced that it was the force of will, a sense of duty, and a deter mination not to give in, that enabled him to make himself a model for all of us who yet remain and follow him, with feeble and un equal steps, in the discharge of our duties; it was that force of will that in point of fact did not so much struggle against the infirmi ties of old age, but actually repelled them and kept them at a distance." A Successful Attorney. Many successful Afro-Americans might be mentioned to pro- e the truth of the fore going statements. One ij Edward H. Morris, of Chicago. He was born in Kentucky in 1860, and graduated from St. Patrick's Col lege, Chicago, in 1878. In June, 1879, he was admitted to the Illinois bar, and to the United States Supreme Court in October, 1885. In 1891 he was elected to the Illinois Legislature, and in 1892 was appointed Attorney for South Chicago. His progress has been steady and con stantly upward. In 1 894 he was appointed Assistant District Attorney for Cook County, 111. He is a prominent Odd Fellow, and was a Deputy Grand Master for two terms. Another example is found in Mr. Charles Winter Wood, elocutionist, tragedian and Greek scholar. He was a bootblack on the streets of Chicago, when his dramatic ability attracted the attention of Justice Blume. Funds were secured to defray his expenses, and he was sent to Beloit College, Wis., where he has won signal honors. He grad uated in 1895 at the head of his class. He won the first prize in the Inter-Collegiate oratorical contest at Appleton, Wis., March 15, 1895, outranking all competitors. THE GUIDE TO SUCCESS. 159 SELF=DENIAL. IT is wonderful how this one thought that things cannot be saved, that they must give themselves up, runs through everything. Would you have a suc cessful business ? It will cost you care and anxiety, labor and capital ; you cannot save yourself. Would you be a scholar? It will cost you the closest study and applica tion, and, perhaps, many a headache and weary hour. Would you be a fine piano player ? It will cost you unremitting prac tice and steady perseverance ; and even then, perhaps, you will feel like telling people that you never play. Would you be a steno grapher and able to catch the burning thoughts that flow from the lips of the orator ? Or, would you be the orator hold ing listening thousands spellbound? Your time, your effort, your earnestness of pur pose alone can do it. There must always be an outlay. There is no escaping the cost. Sacrifice is the grand secret of success. "Neither Weary nor Thirsty." When the army of Alexander the Great was marching against Darius, in crossing the deserts they often suffered more for want of water than by fatigue ; many of the cavalry were unable to hold out. While they were upon the march some Macedon ians had filled their bottles at a river, and were bringing the water upon mules. These people, seeing Alexander greatly distressed with thirst (for it was in the heat of the day), immediately filled a helmet with water, and presented it to him. He asked them to whom they were carry ing it, and they said : " Our sons ; but if our prince does but live, we shall get other chil dren if we lose them." Upon this he took the helmet in his hand ; but looking round, and seeing all the horsemen bending their heads, and fixing their eyes upon the water, he returned it without drinking. However, he praised the people that offered it, and said : " If I alone drink, these good men will be dispirited." The cavalry, who were wit nesses to this act of temperance and mag nanimity, cried out, " Let us march ! We are neither weary nor thirsty, nor shall we even think ourselves mortal, while under the HENRY T. WILLIAMS. conduct of such a king." At the same time they put spurs to their horses and dashed away with fresh courage. Says Atterbury : "A good man not only forbears those gratifications which are for bidden by reason and religion, but even re strains himself in unforbidden instances." Teach self-denial, and make its practice pleasurable, and you create for the world a destiny more sublime than ever issued from the brain of the wildest dreamer. 160 THE GUIDE TO SUCCESS. In what other way than by rigid self- denial and hard work could Richard B. Harrison ever have achieved his fame ? He is, without doubt, the greatest Afro-American dramatic reader living. He was born in London, in the province of Ontario, Canada, in September, 1864, and there went to school until he was seventeen years old. At that time he, with his parents, moved to Detroit. Mich., and soon after he began the study of elocution under Mrs. Mollie Lambert, of the Detroit Training School. After several years' study under Mrs. Lambert, he took up his dramatic work under Prof. Edward Weitzel. A Weil-Known Musician. With equal force is self-denying culture and severe training seen in the enviable record made by one of our race, Mr. Henry T. Williams, the celebrated composer of music and band instructor. He has achieved great success as a performer on the violin, double bass and the cornet. His first great triumph was at the Coliseum in Boston, when he attracted much notice by the successful rendition of a very difficult movement on the double bass. Mr. Williams was born in Boston, August 13, 1813, and began the study of the violin at the early age of seven. His great success is almost entirely due to his own persever ance and native ability. As a composer his works are full of soothing melody, and these were often rendered by the band of the cele brated P. S. Gilmore. You see what can be done by rigid self- denial and sacrifice. Says Robert Hall : " The opportunities of making great sacri fices for the good of mankind are of rare occurrence, and he who remains inactive till it is in his power to confer signal benefits or yield important services is in imminent danger of incurring the doom of the slothful servant. It is the preference of duty to inclination in the ordinary course of life, it is the practice of self-denial in a thousand little instances, which forms the truest test of character, and secures the honor and the reward of those who live not to themselves." It is the same story always ; only by self- denying labor and close application have those immortal men risen to honor and power, who have blessed their race, and are remembered for achievements both good and great. Says Sir Walter Scott : " There never did and never will exist anything per manently noble and excellent in a character which was a stranger to the exercise of reso lute self-denial." How to Double Pleasures. But if there were no such consideration as the good effect which self-denial has upon the sense of other men towards us, it is of all qualities the most desirable for the agree able disposition in which it places our own minds. I cannot tell what better to say of it than that it is the very contrary of ambi tion ; and that modesty allays all those pas sions and inquietudes to which that vice exposes us. He that is moderate in his wishes, from reason and choice, and not resigned from sourness, distate or disappointment, doubles all the pleasures of his life. The air, the season, a sunshiny day, or a fair prospect are instances of happiness ; and that which he enjoys in common with all the world (by his exemption from the enchantments by which all the world are bewitched), affords him uncommon benefits. HEROISM 2 COLORED SOLDIERS IN OUR WRR WITH SPAIN IN our War with Spain the colored soldiers showed great bravery and acquitted themselves with distin guished honor. They proved by their conduct that they possess all the elements of true courage and heroism. The two colored cavalry regiments, the Ninth and Tenth Regulars, were among the most popular soldiers in Cuba. They were quiet, well-mannered, cheerful fellows, these colored troopers, and far sooner than any of the other Cuban veterans they recov ered their spirits and vitality after the cam paign. In an encampment made up chiefly of the sick and half sick, it was inspiring to meet on the road a group of these soldiers jogging along in lively conversation, their white teeth gleaming in smiles. As to their abilities in battle but one opinion was expressed, and almost invariably in the same words : Brave Fighters. "Those colored chaps fought like devils." Many are the stories of their prowess, told by the men of the other regiments. A com pany of the Tenth went into action singing. Two men of another company enlivened their comrades during a very trying halt under fire by executing a double-flop dance, to which the whole company began presently to clap out the time ; their officers, mean while, being wisely blind and deaf to these rather unusual tactics. The Rough Riders were enthusiastic over the Ninth Regiment. When Roosevelt's men had made their rush up San Juan Hill they found themselves in a very bad position, pressed by a superior force of the enemy on both flanks and in front. It is generally admitted that they could not have held their position but for the splendid charge of the colored men to their support. After the worst of the fight ing was over, a Rough Rider, finding himself near one of the colored troopers, walked up and grasped his hand, saying : " We've got you fellows to thank for getting us out of a bad hole." " Dat's all right, boss," said the soldier, with a broad grin. . " Dat's all right. It's all in de fam'ly. We call ouahselves de Colored Rough Riders." Always Cheerful and Ready. " It was a matter of considerable doubt," an officer of the regular infantry says, " whether the colored troops would acquit themselves well. We of the army knew them to be good Indian fighters, but this Cuban business was no more like Indian fighting than a game of marbles is like billiards. Probably it was because I am from the South that I didn't think much of the colored regiments, but having seen those fellows in action I've changed my mind completely. They were the best, the readiest, the most cheerful, and, I believe, the dead liest fighters in the war. " In the charge up the hill a volunteer who had got separated from his company, who looked pretty badly rattled, got caught in the rush and carried along. A big fellow HEROISM OF THE COLORED SOLDIERS. behind him kept spurring him on and trying to encourage him, but the man was badly rattled and tried to get away. That settled him with the troopers, who began to guy him, asking his name and address for pur poses of identification, and assuring him that ;he would be readily distinguished among the other dead on account of his color. Presently a Mauser bullet clipped the sleeve of the man next to him. The trooper turned to the volunteer : " ' Honey, dat bullet was a-callin' youah name, shuah,' he said. No Shrinking Under Fire. " They tell me that the volunteer finally plucked up his spirits and fought so well that the negroes assured him that in the next battle he'd be an honor to any regi ment. One thing I noticed about the negro troopers was that they. evinced less inclina tion to duck when the bullets whistled over them than the other soldiers showed. A sergeant explained it to me this way : " ' Wen de bullet go along it say, " Pi-yi- yi ! Pi-yi-yi ! " Nobody ain' goin' to min' dat. But de shrapnel, dat's different. Dat say, " Oo-oo oo-oo ; I want yeh, I want yeh, I want yeh, mah honey ! " Dat's w'at makes a man's head kindah shrink like between his shouldahs.' " However, I didn't see any shrinking that could be identified as such among those men. There wasn't an instant during the fighting that they didn't look as if they were in the very place of all places on earth where they most wished to be." I At Camp Montauk the colored men as- 'siduously cultivated the gentle arts of peace. Every night they sat outdoors and sang. The Ninth men staked out a baseball dia mond on the flat near the Life-saving Station and played a most tumultuous game of ball, which would have resulted more definitely if in the third inning the runs hadn't piled up so high that the scorer collapsed with exhaustion and fell asleep. As no two of the players agreed on the score, the game was declared "no contest." The Tenth Cavalryman who had his guitar with him was the centre of a large audience every afternoon, and he was hustling around trying to pursuade some of the banjo and mandolin players to beg or borrow instru ments which could be sent to them, so that he could get up a string orchestra. Certain sportsmen of the Ninth organized cross country hunts after the frog, which abounds in the marshes. They stalked him to his lair, and then swathed him with the unpoetic but substantial club, whereupon he croaked his last croak and rendered up his muscular legs to make a dainty feast. Good Hunters. Two hunters who beat along the little stream flowing back of the Signal Corps bagged no less than forty-seven batrachians, not counting six toads which they killed by mistake. On the whole, the colored soldiers got more out of camp life than any one else in the place. A volunteer whose regiment was brigaded with the Twenty-fourth (colored) Infantry through the Cuban campaign said that " they were better Christians than the white men." " We had a lot of trouble about firewood on the island," said he. It was hard to find, and it often had to be carried two miles to our quarters. Gathering it was a heavy job for our fellows, for most of them were pretty weak on account of the fever. The fellow^ in the white regiment in our command were a little better off than we were they were regulars, you know and managed to have HEROISM OF THE COLORED SOLDIERS. 111 fires pretty regularly. If we had had to depend on them we would have put cold rations in our stomachs all the time. " ' Say old man/ I heard said to them, ' let's cook a little stuff on your fire when you're through with it ; won't you please?' " 'And what do you think they'd say ? " 'Aw, go hang,' one of 'em said to me. ' We ain't got enough for ourselves.' Men with Big Hearts. " It was a good deal to ask of a man, I'll admit. Why, I've seen half a dozen sick men wait around a fire until the men who owned it were through, and then make a rush for the embers, like seven dogs after one bone. But the colored men were different ; they had bigger hearts. They stood the campaign in great shape, you know, and it wasn't much for them to gather firewood. They'd build a fire six feet long, and they never crowded a poor weak man out if he wanted to use it. " ' Gimme a chance at your fire ?' the fel lows would ask them. " ' Co'se,' they'd say, ' what yo' think we made a big fire fo', anyway? T' cook our own grub o'ny ? Come on, honey.' " That's just the way they'd say it, and as jolly as you like. The colored soldiers are all right ; and I've got a place in my heart for the Twenty-fourth Infantry, I tell you." The men tell many instances of like kind nesses. They do not begrudge credit to the colored soldiers for their bravery through the campaign. And the negroes appreciate this show of good feeling " Why," one of them said not long ago, " them Rough Riders are like brothers. I've et with ' em ; I've slept with 'em ; I've fit with 'em, and I feel as if I was one of 'em." A regular who came into close contact with the Ninth Cavalry (colored) said : " I remember once we were standing in the bushes along the trail when the Ninth came by us. The men were in great spirits laughing and talking, though the fight was just a little way before them. "'Hello, boy,' one big fellow yelled to me, 'any fruit on the trees 'round yere?' " ' I ain't seen any,' a man behind me says. ' An' I ain't looking for any not in my state.' " Well, the colored men burst out laugh ing, and they kept it up ' haw haw, haw.' " ' What kind of fruit ?' says I. " ' Oh, sharpshooters,' says the big man that spoke to me. ' Haw, haw, haw.' I've heard they found some." It has often been said that a negro regi ment must be well officered and well " pushed," or it will not give a good account of itself on the firing line. The white pri vates at Montauk, however, seem to think that the "negro is a fighter" for the pure love of it. Over a Shot-Swept Hill. " In the trenches at San Juan," said a vol unteer corporal, "the Twenty-fourth re lieved us, and we them. Lying in the trenches there was hard and nervous work, and it was a happy time for the squad when the relief came. I've heard our men kick when they had to go into the fight again, but I never heard a colored soldier do it. It was coming hard one evening, and I guess the colored fellows knew it and thought we might need a little support, though things hadn't got critical at all. All at once I was startled by two big men scrambling in nearly on top of us." They were colored soldiers. " ' What the ?' the man I was with began. " ' All right, boys, don't get scared ; it's IV HEROISM OF THE COLORED SOLDIERS. all right. We thought yo' might want a niggah er two, an' we come up t' see.' " 'Come up,' said I, ' over the hill ?' The bullets were skimming over our trenches, you know, and sweeping the top of the hill behind which the reserves were lying. " ' Co'se, we didn't come nohow else,' says one. 'There was three of us sta'ted.' " ' Where's the other one ? ' says I. " ' We carried him back,' says they, ' an' come on ag'in. Story of a Sergeant. This volunteer comrade told the story of a negro sergeant whose name he did not know : " It was in that same fight," said he, "and, as bunkie here has told you, we took turns in the trenches with the Twenty-fourth. You must understand that we held both sides of the hill, and that the trenches were high up on the one side, and the place where the reserves were was pretty well down on the other ; the Spaniards were firing on our Hne from the bottom of the hill, so the bullets went over the crest low down, and it was a most dangerous place to be. When we were relieved we had to get over that spot to reach our reserve position. There was no cover, and the Spaniards had the range down fine. " Well, there was a blockhouse on the top of the hill, with a door in the side of it. That door was in sight from both sides ; so it took a nervy man to dodge in or out of it. One morning, when we were about to go back to rest, a negro sergeant, who was in charge of the relief squad, dodged in from behind without getting hit. We were wait ing to make a run for it when we saw him. The Spaniards caught sight of him as he ran in, and fired hot. Out he jumped and yelled : " 'Now's our chance, boys; come on.' Then he got in again. "A couple of the boys ran out and over, and the shooting went on. They were firing in volleys ; and every time that sergeant would hear a volley he'd be out waving his hand and yelling : " ' They can't hit yo' ; they can't hit yo'. Now's your chance.' " I thought I'd see him drop every time ; but they couldn't hit him. I tell you, he helped us out. He was like a baseball coacher, trying to rattle the other side, and getting his own men around the bases. It was so like it that I could pretty near hear old Bill Joyce yelling : ' Lead off there ; lead off! Now slide ! slide ! ' And I swear I could see the old diamond at the Polo Grounds. Well, we only lost one man wounded." A Big Fellow's Bracelets. A strapping colored soldier, who had a silver bracelet on his thick, black wrist, and another in his pocket, " because it was too small to go 'round," and some gold and silver trinkets hanging on his bosom, was riding toward the station on a mule wagon at camp. He was a strong man, with a slight moustache and a woolly chin beard, and he was as black as ebony. "See that?" he said, taking the small bracelet from his pocket, " I got that from a Cuban lady. She was one of these re re recon cen trades. We were on a forced march, and she come along and stood by the road. She grabbed me by the arm, and made signs that she was hungry. Then she handed me this thing out. I had six hard tack, and gave her three. And say, she kissed my hand. I'm keeping the jewelry for my sister. That's how I got it ; and that's how lots of the boys come by theirs. What you laffin' at man ? Eh ! " HEROISM OF THE COLORED SOLDIERS. " Didn't you see that mule wag its ears ? " "Oh! huh!" " It was after the fight at Caney," said another witness of the colored soldiers' bravery, " the boys were all tired out, you know ; they had been keyed up to concert pitch so long that when it was all over and the relaxation came they were like dishrags. Everything was quiet and only now and then would a Mauser bullet sing in our ears, for the sharpshooters were still at their deadly work. It was necessary that they should be dislodged from their perches in the trees, and to bring about such an end a means was adopted that was original and grimly humor ous. " With us, before Caney, was the Tenth United States Cavalry, a regiment of colored troops, seasoned fighters, and as brave and soldierly a crowd of men as ever snapped a Krag-Jorgensen. Upon them devolved the duty of cleaning out the sharpshooters. They were ordered to take up their rifles and go out gunning for the Spaniards, singly and in little parties of two and three and four. Looking for " Squirrels." " When the order was given these colored boys let out a yell of delight that it seems to me must have been heard in Havana. They started helter-skelter from the camp. The delight they took in the work was deadly humorous. It was simply a ' coon hunt ' or a ' squirrel shooting bee ' to them. One would duck in and out among the bushes and wriggle his body through the grass, his eye fixed on some tree or other. He would spot a sharpshooter half concealed up there in the branches, and creeping up would pop a bullet at him. The aim was, in every case so far as we were able to learn, astonishingly accurate. Down from out the tree would tumble the Spaniard, and the colored trooper would laugh and shout across to a mate across the field : ' Dar's annuder squirrel, Gawge ! ' " Then he would wriggle along a few rods farther and bring down another. The sport of picking off those sharpshooters was better than a coon hunt in Georgia to the colored troopers, and in less than half an hour they had knocked out eighteen of the Spaniards. When they came back to camp they sat around for an hour telling each other how they'd fetched 'em, and they'd laugh till their sides ached in recounting the gyrations the sharpshooters would go through in the air and when they struck the ground. After that the Tenth Cavalry came to be known as the ' squirrel hunters ' among the other soldiers." Rushed into Battle. Our colored troops gave an excellent ac count of themselves at Santiago, and proved that in fighting qualities they are inferior to none. Lewis Bowman of the Tenth Cavalry, who had two ribs broken by a bursting Spanish shell before San Juan, said, after describing the landing and marching to the front : " The Rough Riders had gone off in great glee, bantering us and good-naturedly boast ing that they were going ahead to lick the Spaniards without any trouble, and advising us to remain where we were until they re turned, and they would bring back some Spanish heads as trophies. When we heard firing in the distance our captain remarked, that some one ahead was doing good work. The firing became so heavy and regular that our officers, without orders, decided to move forward and reconnoitre. " When we got to where we could see what was going on, we found that the Rough Riders had marched down a sort of a canon VI HEROISM OF THE COLORED SOLDIERS. between the mountains. The Spaniards had men posted at the entrance, and as soon as the Rough Riders had gone in had about closed up the rear, and were firing upon the Rough Riders from both the front and the rear. Immediately the Spaniards in the rear received a volley from our men of the Tenth Cavalry without command. The Spaniards were afraid we were going to flank them, and rushed out of ambush, in front of the Rough Riders, throwing up their hands and shouting, ' Don't shoot ; we are Cubans." Fighting Under Great Difficulties. " The Rough Riders thus let them escape, and gave them a chance to take a better position ahead. During all this time the men were all in tall grass, and could not see even each other, and I fear the Rough Riders in the rear shot many of their men in front, mistaking them for Spanish soldiers. By this time the Tenth Cavalry had fully taken in the situation, and, adopting the method employed in fighting Indians, were able to turn the tide of battle and repulse the Spaniards. " I was in the fight of July ist, and it was in that fight that I received my wound. We were under fire in that fight about forty-eight hours, and were without food and with but little water. We had been cut off from our pack train, as the Spanish sharpshooters shot our mules as soon as they came anywhere near the lines, and it was impossible to move supplies. Very soon after the firing began our colonel was killed and the most of our other officers were killed or wounded, so that the greater part of that desperate battle was fought by some of the Ninth and Tenth Cavalry without officers ; or, at least, if there were any officers around, we neither saw them nor heard their commands. The last command I heard our captain give was : ' Boys, when you hear me whistle, lie flat down on the ground.' " Whether he ever whistled or not I do not know. The next move we made was when, with a terrific yell, we charged up to the Spanish trenches and bayoneted and clubbed them out of their places in a jiffy. Some of the men of our regiment say that the last command they heard vvas ' To the rear!' But this command they utterly dis regarded and charged to the front until the day was won, and the Spaniards, those not dead in the trenches, fled back to the city. Raising the Stars and Stripes. " At San Juan I had the pleasure to take some of those blockhouses you hear so much about, and I had the privilege of haul ing down the Spanish flag and planting the Stars and Stripes in its place. The sides of the blockhouse gave absolutely no place for a foothold or to catch with the hands. One member of the Seventy-first New York placed his .old Springfield rifle on the ground, and, by placing my foot on the hammer, I climbed upon it and was pushed up on the stock to the roof of the house. After I had hauled down the Spanish flag and was about to plant the Stars and Stripes, a bullet came whizzing in my direction. It cut a hole through my hat, burning my head slightly. That's what I call a close shave. " In the charge before San Juan my twin brother, who was fighting at my side, was wounded, and I could stop only long enough to drag him off the firing line. I returned to the fight, and in a few minutes a shell burst directly among us, and a portion of it broke two of my ribs. "Our men didn't care at all about the I small shot, but they feared the shells from * the large Spanish guns, and there was often a lively struggle among us over the propri- &- . . " 1 HEROISM OF THE COLORED SOLDIERS. vn etorship of a particular tree to which sev eral of us would flee at once for refuge. We were greatly worried by the sharpshooters. In going toward the front I noticed at one point that several of our men and officers were shot, and that no one seemed able to locate the marksman. I concluded that I should not go around that way, so I turned in another direction. As I went near an old tree I noticed that the dirt had been washed from around its roots. Happening to look under it I spied a Spanish sharpshooter. He it was who had been picking off our men. I slipped up behind him and whacked him on the neck, breaking it. Our men were no longer molested in that locality." Brought Down a Spaniard. Willis, of the Ninth Cavalry, told of his experience in picking off a sharpshooter who was hidden in a cocoanut tree. " They had been getting our officers in great shape," he said, "and we couldn't for the life of us locate a man or men who were doing it. Finally a bullet struck one of my comrades near me. I decided that it was about time to look after that sharpshooter, so I kept a sharp lookout and all at once I saw the part of a head peeping out from behind a bunch of cocoanuts. I drew a bead on it and instantly a Spaniard tumbled out of that tree. As a memento of the occasion I hold in my hand a watch with an iron case and a brass chain, which I took from the man who had played such havoc among our men." William H. Brown, of the Tenth Cavalry, said: "A foreign officer, standing near our position when we started out to make that charge, was heard to say, ' Men, for heaven's sake don't go up that hill. It will be impossible for human beings to take that position. You can't stand the fire.' Not withstanding this, with a te/rific ye'ii we rushed up to the enemy's works, and you know the result. Men who saw him say that when this official saw us make the charge he turned his back upon us and wept." One of the men, in answering a question as to the equipment of the Spaniards and Americans, spoke of the difference between Springfield, Krag-Jorgensen, and Mauser rifles, and incidentally gave a bit of interest ing fact. " We were near the Seventy-first New York," he said, " who were at a great dis advantage, owing to the fact that they were fighting with the old Springfield rifle ' old smoke guns,' we call them. Every time they fire a volley the Spaniards, by the volume of smoke from their guns, could easily locate the American shooters. And how the Mauser bullets were flying and doing execution among the members of the seventy-first ! However, we took advantage of this, and under cover of the smoke from these old smoke guns, upon which the Spaniards had concentrated their fire, we were able, without attracting much attention, to creep almost upon the Spanish works before drawing their fire." The Colored Soldier. One of our poets has paid a glowing tribute to the colored troops who fought so bravely in Cuba. Here it is : Y\7"E used to think the colored man didn't count for much Light-fingered in the melon patch and chicken yard, and such ; Much mixed in point of morals and absurd in point of dress, The butt of droll cartoonists and the target of the press ; But we've got to reconstruct our views on color^ more or less, Now we know about the Tenth at La Quasi na. Vlll HEROISM OF THE COLORED SOLDIERS. When a rain of shot was falling, with a song upon his lips, In the horror where such gallant lives went out in death's eclipse, Face to face with Spanish bullets, on the slope of San Juan, The colored soldier showed himself another type of man ; Read the story of his courage, coldly, carelessly, who can The story of the Tenth at La Quasina ! We have heaped the Cuban soil above their bodies, black and white The strangely sorted comrades of that grand and glorious fight And many a fair-skinned volunteer goes whole and sound to-day For the succor of the colored troops, the battle records say, And the feud is done forever, of the blue coat and the gray All honor to the Tenth at La Quasina ! B. M. CHANNING. The grand qualities that make up our colored heroes are brought out vividly in a story told concerning General Wheeler, Com mander of Cavalry at Santiago : " Send Me the Man." When the American line had fought its way to the top of the hills at El Paso and San Juan and Caney, General Wheeler issued an order that every command should dig trenches in preparation for the conflict that he knew would break out again in the morn- iig. But the soldiers had thrown away nost of their trenching tools during the fierce rifle charges, and as darkness fell upon the scene of battle they threw themselves upon the ground and went to sleep from sheer exhaustion. Adjutant Hood, of the Rough Riders, noting this condition of affairs, rode over to General Wheeler's tent and informed the good old veteran that the men were played out. Wheeler at the time was lying upon his cot more dead than alive, but there was a smile upon his lips, and his never-failing good humor twinkled in his eyes, when Adjutant Hood said : " General, I am afraid our men can't dig the trenches ? " " What men ? " asked the General. " The cavalry division," said the Adjutant. General Wheeler sat up in bed and began pulling on his boots. " Send me the man," he directed. " What man?" asked the Adjutant. " The man who can't dig trenches." " But it is not one man ; it is many men. They are just played out." " But you can surely find one man who says he can't dig the trench. I only want one. Go get him and bring him to me." " But there are " " I don't care how many there are, go get me one." Wheeler and the Trooper. The Adjutant had never faced such a man as Wheeler before, and he did not know just what to make of the conversation. The little old General was as smooth and suave and courteous as could be, and Hood had nothing to do but to ride back to the line. In some way he managed to round up a colored trooper belonging to the Ninth Cavalry, and brought him back to the divi sion headquarters. He stood looking sheep ishly at the ground, when Wheeler addressed him. " Are you the man who says he can't dig these trenches?" asked the General. The negro's feet shuffled uneasily in the ground. " I'se one of 'em, but there's a " The General stopped him, and walked out of his tent. " You can go to sleep now, my man, and I'll go up and dig your trench for you. When the sun comes up to-morrow morn- HEROISM OF THE COLORED SOLDIERS. IX mg the Spaniards arc going to open on us, and every man who isn't protected is not only in danger of being killed, but will be unable to help us maintain our own posi tion. The trenches have to be dug, and if you are unable to dig yours I'll just go out and do it for you. Where's your pick ?" General "Wheeler Digging Trenches. With the most business-like air in the world Wheeler slid into his coat, and turned toward the big cavalryman. The latter's eyes opened as he saw the proceedings, and they began to bulge out when the General motioned to him to lead the way to his camp. For half a minute his voice stuck in his throat, and then he said : "Boss, you ain't fit to dig no trenches. If they done got to be dug, I'll just naturally do it myself. I'm dog tired, but that ain't work for you." Wheeler stopped and looked at the man with a flicker of amusement in his eyes. " I know it isn't work for me to do," he said, but I'm going to need soldiers in the morning, and I'm going to save your life, if possible. Do you think now that you can dig the trench ? " The negro started up the hill without a word. Then the General turned to Adjutant Hood, with a voice as pleasant as sunshine in May. " He seems to have changed his mind," he said. " Now you go find me another man who can't dig the trenches." The Adjutant bowed and rode off. He never came back. In the morning the trenches were dug. General Wheeler was the right kind of commander. He never asked of his soldiers what he was unwilling to do himself. He was ready to share all their hardships. He never said " Go ; " it was always " Come come on I'll lead." He knew how to arouse the fighting spirit of his troops. He did not lag in the rear behind the firing line. The colored troopers were always ready to follow a leader who was so brave and was never inclined to shrink from danger. Tenth United States Cavalry at the Battle of Santiago. Through the courtesy of the Christian Recorder, published at Philadelphia for the African Methodist Episcopal Church, we are enabled to furnish a most interesting account of the Tenth United States Cavalry, who did such heroic work at the battle of Santiago. This account is from the pen of Rev. William T. Anderson, Chaplain of the regiment, and is as follows : " I have been to Cuba, shared the hard ships with the rest of the boys, and like the other regulars have not complained, al though greatly afflicted while there, and returned to this country very much unlike my former self. " On arriving at Montauk, L. I., on our return from Santiago, I was in the hospital, and owing to my affliction rheumatism I was ordered home on a thirty days' sick leave. I went to Cleveland, O., to the home of my brother-in-law, where my wife was stopping, and during my entire leave I was under the care of two excellent physicians whose skillful treatment had me in condition to join my regiment at the expiration of my leave, although not by any means a well man. " So much has been written concerning our regiment that it seems as if nothing more can be said about the Tenth United States Cavalry ; but not half has yet been told concerning the boys whom I claim fully as my own. Although the principal part of HEROISM OF THE COLORED SOLDIERS. the fighting was over when I reached Cuba, as the steamer Gussie was long overdue when we steamed into the harbor of Santi ago, I was enabled to assist our boys in many ways until I was stricken myself on the 3d of August. ' A Soldier's Burial. " I was kept busy administering to the sick, burying the dead and comforting the lonely and downhearted in this strange land. My first general service was for an artillery man (white), who through despondency took his own life while on guard at 10 o'clock at night. Very sad, indeed, did this service seem to me. No mother, or sister, or rel ative to shed a tear over the remains of a a life so quickly spent. Comrades stood mutely by as the solemn words were spoken, ' earth to earth.' " Not the sound of the clods on the coffin box did we hear, but the dull thud of the clods on the body from whence the soul had taken its flight fell on our ears with a sick ening sound impossible for us ever to forget. ' ' ' No useless coffin enclosed his breast Not in sheet or in shroud we wound him ; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him. ' " Simply wrapped in his army blanket we laid him to sleep until the awakening morn. As far as I have any knowledge, ours was the only regiment to give a full military burial. For our boys who succumbed to the inevitable in Cuba and at Montauk, our commanding officer had constructed some kind of a coffin out of such material as could be obtained, and officers and men turned out in full to follow the remains to the last rest ing place, thus showing the love that our white officers have for our boys. " The funeral of a soldier is sad. Dead away from home mother, father, sister and brother may look for his return, but in vairt. Perhaps a word or a token of love has been left for some loved one. With a lack of woman's nursing and a dearth of woman's tears he has crossed the river that divides the celestial from the earthly. ' The muffled drum's sad roll has beat the soldier's last tattoo.' With slow and solemn steps, offi cers and comrades accompany the lifeless body to the city of the dead. The last sad rites are administered ; taps are sounded ; we turn our faces back to camp, and leave our dead alone to await the grand reveille that has not yet been the power of man to sound. But enough, the very thought of this, my first burial on the field, makes me shudder. Only Colored Chaplain. " Some very impressive services were held in front of Santiago. I was the only colored chaplain in Cuba, and not only our boys, but the white soldiers as well sought my counsel and asked for prayer. Truly, if a chaplain is ever needed at any one time more than another, it is on the field. It is wonderful how a word of consolation helps a soldier when he is lonely and low spirited. We passed through some very trying moments in Cuba. Sometimes we were very short of rations, but officers and men fared alike. No complaint came from our regulars, for they had learned how to take what comes as a good soldier, and knew how to manage when rations were short. "A great deal of sickness prevailed in camp. Many who went to Cuba never returned. All that is mortal of those brave boys who fought so nobly silently sleeps in that strange land until the gathering morn ing. The Lord was wonderfully kind *o our regiment, as we had but very few fatali ties comparatively speaking, Our boys, with HEROISM OF Till- COLORED SOLDIERS. but few exceptions, returned to this country in good condition. " Our encampment at Montauk Point, was very pleasant. I was not there long myself, as I before stated; I was away on a sick leave. Chaplains Stuart and Prioleau joined their regiments here, and you have been told i >f many things concerning our services while hey were here. After their regiments had been ordered to permanent posts, I had my time much employed conducting services for other regiments (white) as well as for my own. In camp, at such a time, a comrade is a comrade, whether his face be white or black. " We were ordered from Montauk to en camp near Huntsville. Ala. ; back to the place where but a few years ago some mem bers of our regiment were under the curse of slavery. From the time that we left Mon tauk we were given great ovations at every point. In Washington, D. C., we stopped all day Saturday, October 8th. We were banquetted by the generous people and passed in review before the President. Scarred Warriors. "A splendid showing did these sturdy and scarred warriors present as they marched in review before the great Executive of the nation. After leaving Washington we were cheered all along the road. Louisville, Ky., and Nashville, Tenn., asked permission to do the honors that Washington did, but we had to forego that pleasure ; yet, we were permitted to stop two hours in each place. Lunch counters were open to our boys all i along the road, for they had made for them selves an enviable record, and they were prepared to maintain what they had so fear lessly won. " Our landing at Huntsville was accom panied with a little unpleasant incident ; but, as heretofore, the Tenth boys came out best, and have been b.est ever since. As soon as our boys arrived here they were set upon by the provost guard, a detachment of the Six teenth Infantry, in an unsoldierly manner for some trivial offence. Our boys defended themselves, and in so doing killed one of the guards (a corporal) and wounded four others, three of whom have died since. Two boys of the Tenth were wounded, but at present they are up and nearly recovered. The local papers published it otherwise, but I give you the facts as they are. The people here know that the Tenth United States Cav alry is encamped near the city, and they will be good, for the time being, any way. At the Peace Jubilee. " We shall ever feel grateful to the good people of Philadelphia for the interest shown in us in making it possible for us to take part in the Peace Jubilee parade. No dis tinction was made on account of color in the Quaker City. Dr. Brown and myself shared the hospitalities of the Gladstone along with the other officers. Our boys were comfort ably quartered and bountifully feasted in the parish house of the Church of the Cruci fixion. The heroes of Santiago were be sieged with callers and interested friends, all eager to have us tell of our experience in Cuba. "The Tenth owes much to the good people of Philadelphia, and especially Mr. Clarence B. Moore, who has been a source of much pleasure to our regiment by his generous gifts. While in Cuba he offered me anything that I might request for my boys, saying that the good people of Phila delphia had money to burn for the Tenth Cavalry. Of his own volition he sent us so many things that modesty forbade me to make too large a request, for fear he .might HEROISM OF THE COLORED SOLDIERS. think me greedy or imposing upon his gen erosity. " Then, too, we felt that his kindness and friendship would wear better by us not bur dening him with requests. While at home sick this summer he kept me supplied with reading matter, and wrote three and four Limes a week to know of my condition. It was my great pleasure to meet him while attending the Peace Jubilee, and I found him to be all that the word gentleman implies. " Our trip to Philadelphia was void of any unpleasantness save when we stopped at Knoxville, Tenn., for luncheon. We (Dr. Brown and myself) were refused to be served, and when our fellow-officers found out that the proprietor would not serve us they refused to eat, and would not eat where we could not. Not much has been said concerning the valorous boys of the Tenth previous to the recent war, but they have won for them selves such a brilliant record before Santiago that proper thinking and unselfish people are compelled to doff their hats as the gallant black boys of the Tenth passed by .keeping step with ' We'll rally 'round the Flag, boys ;' or better still, keeping step with every pulsa tion of patriotism that throbs within their manly breasts. Truly, they are the superb soldiers. " We cannot afford to be selfish. The Ninth Cavalry, Twenty-fourth and Twenty- fifth Infantry have made a record that should call forth the gratefulness of every race- loving woman and child in this broad land of ours. True, the way seems dark at times ; but we must remember that the heavens were dark just before the veil was rent in twain. The silver lining of a heavy cloud is almost visible. These black boys have done for our people what could not have been done otherwise. It shall forever be said, concerning the colored soldier, that there was not found a faint heart among them. " With best wishes for the Church's pros perity, WM. T. ANDERSON, "Chaplain Tenth U. S. Cavalry. " Huntsville, Ala." THE PROPER CONDUCT OF IJFE THE ART OF PLEASING Ti)e True Lady ar>d Ttje True Ger)bleir)a v CHAPTER I. Manners Make the Man. 1 MANNERS are so important that the world has long had the pro verb that " Manners Make the Man." A person may be highly gifted and well educated, yet if destitute of the art of pleas ing, all other accomplishments will be of little account. Success in life depends much Upon appearance and deportment. According to Swift, good manners are the art of making those people with whom we converse feel at ease. Persons of refinement and generous impulses always endeavor to render themselves agreeable to those in whose company they are destined to travel in the journey of life. They are no more eager to gain pleasure for themselves, than to bestow it upon others. The art of pleasing is so simple, that it requires nothing more than ^he constant de sire to please in all our words and actions ; and the practice of it can neither wound a man's esteem, nor be prejudicial to his wel fare in ?ny possible situation. Though this be true, it is frequently the case that but little attention is paid to the art of pleasing. Each individual is so zeal ous to promote his own pleasure as to be liable to forget that his neighbor has claims equal to his own. Every man who enters a into society gives up, for the time, many of his peculiar rights, and forms part of an association met together, not for the particu lar gratification of any one, but for the pleasure of the whole company. All the elements which form a good and attractive character are essential to the art of pleasing. In business affairs, we delight to deal with men in whom we can place confidence, and in whom we find integ rity ; truth is so naturally pleasing that we derive great satisfaction from an honest character. " Should you be suspected (says Chesterfield) of injustice, malignity, perfidy, lying, etc., all the graces and knowledge of the world will never procure you esteem, friendship and respect." The first of requisites in our intercourse with the world, and the chief in giving pleasure to those with whom we associate, is inviol able sincerity of heart. Acknowledged sincerity always gives the same ornament to character that modesty does to manners. It would abundantly atone for ridiculous ceremonies, or false and un meaning professions; and it would in no respect diminish the lustre of a noble bear ing, or the perfection of an elegant address. Modesty, however, is not inconsistent 18 RULES OF ETIQUETTE FOR ALL OCCASIONS. with firmness and dignity of character ; it arises rather from the knowledge of our im perfection compared with a certain standard, than from conscious ignorance of what we ought to know. The well-bred man feels at ease in all companies, is modest without being bashful, and self-possessed without being forward. A Well Stored Mind. A man possessing the amiable virtues is still farther prepared to please, by having in his own mind a perpetual fund of information and entertainment He can easily conceal thoughts which it would be in bad taste to avow, and he is not anxious to display virtues which might be distasteful to his companions. To possess a correct and enlightened under standing, and a fund of rational knowledge, is a chief ingredient in the art of pleasing. With modesty and tact we should be able to make ourselves agreeable to these with whom we have occasion to associate. The faculty of communicating ideas is pe culiar to man, and the pleasure which he derives from their interchange is one of the most important of his blessings. Man kind are formed with numberless wants, and with a mutual power of assisting each other. It is a beautiful and happy part of the same perfect plan, that they are likewise formed to delight in each other's company, and in the mutual interchange of their thoughts. The different species of communication, in a highly polished age, are as numerous as the different ranks, employments and occupa tions of men; and indeed the knowledge which men wish to communicate often takes its tinge from their peculiar professions or Occupations. Adapt Yourself to Your Company. Thus commercial men delight to talk of their trade, and of business affairs ; men of pleasure, who wish merely to vary or quicken their amusements, are in conversation light, trifling, and insincere; and the literati de light to dwell on new books, learned mei\ and important discoveries in science and arts But as the different classes of men will fre* quently meet together, all parties must sc act, as to combine the useful and agreeable, and thereby be able to give the greaUat pleasure to their associates. Attention to these principles will enable the man of pleasure and the man of learn ing to derive mutual advantage from their different qualifications. With due attention to such ideas, we proceed to mention the kinds of knowledge which are most fitted for conversation. Those who wish to please should particularly endeavor to be informed on subjects most generally mentioned. An accurate or extensive knowledge on learned subjects is by no means sufficient ; we must also have an extensive knowledge of the com mon occurrences of life. Value of Practical Knowledge. It is the knowledge of mankind, of govern ments, of history, of public characters, and of the springs which, put the great and the little actions of the world in motion, which gives real pleasure and rational instruction. The knowledge which we communicate must in some shape be interesting to those to whom we communicate it. It should also be of such importance, as to elevate the thoughts' somewhat above the actions of the narrow circle formed in our own immediate neigh borhood. On this account it is recommended by an author who fully knew mankind, as a maxim of great importance in the art of pleasing, to be acquainted with the private character of those men, who, from their station or their actions, are making their mark in the world. We naturally wish to see such men in their MANNERS MAKE THE MAN." retired and undisguised moments; and he who can gratify us is highly acceptable. History of all kinds, fitly introduced, and occa sionally embellished with pleasing anecdotes, fe an important part of our entertainment in the intercourse of life. This is imparting in struction, without exciting much envy; it depends on memory, and memory is one of those talents the possession of which we least grudge to our neighbor. Knowledge of Human Nature. Our knowledge of history, at the same time, must not appear in long and tedious details; but in apt and well-chosen allusions, calculated to illustrate the particular subject of conversation. But the knowledge most necessary is that of the human heart This is acquired by constant observation of the manners and maxims of the world, connect ed with that which passes in our own minds. This leads us from the common details of conduct, from slander and defamation, to the sources and principles of action, and enables us to enter into what may be called the phil osophy of conversation. By this means constant materials are sup plied for free, easy, and spirited communica tion. The restraints which are imposed on mankind, either from what their own charac ter may suffer, or from the apprehension of giving offense to others, are entirely taken off, and they have a sufficient quantity of current coin for all the common purposes of life. Another very important requisite in the art of pleasing is graceful and easy manners. Lord Chesterfield indeed considers these as the most essential and important part; as if the dia mond received its whole value from the polish. But though he is unquestionably mistaken, there is yet a certain sweetness of manners which is particularly engaging in our intercourse with the world. This consti tutes the character which the French, undei the appellation of I aimable, so much tali? of, and so justly value. A Winning Manner. This is not so easily described as felt It is the compound result of different things? not a servility of manners, but affability,, courtesy, and an air of softness in the couii tenance, gesture, and expression, equally whether you agree or disagree with the per son you converse with. This is particularly to be studied when we are obliged to refuse a favor asked of us, or to say what in itself cannot be very agreeable to the person to whom we say it It is then the necessary gilding of a disagreeable pill. But this,, which may be called th~ suaviter i:i modo^ would degenerate and sink into a mean and timid complaisance and passiveness, if not supported by firmness and dignity of charac ter. Hence the Latin sentence, suaviter in modo\ fortiter in re (suavity of manner, witb firmness in acting), becomes a useful and important maxim in life. Genuine easy manners result from a con stant attention to the relations of persons, things, times, and places. When we con verse with one greatly our superior, we are to be as easy and unembarrassed as with our equals; yet every look, word, and action, should imply, without any kind of servile flattery, the greatest respect In mixed com panies, with our equals, greater ease and liberty are allowed ; but they too have their proper limits. There is a social respect neo essary. Our words, gestures, and attitude^ have a greater degree of latitude, though not an unbounded one. Now, this ease of carriage and behavior which is exceedingly engaging, widely differs from negligence and inattention, and by no means implies that one may do whatever he pleases ; it only means that one is not to be RULES OF ETIQUETTE FOR ALL OCCASIONS. stiff, formal, or embarrassed, disconcerted and diffident ; but it requires great attention to, and a scrupulous observation of, what the French call les bienfeances; a word which implies "decorum, good breeding, and pro priety." Whatever we ought to do, is to be done with ease and unconcern ; whatever is improper, must not be done at all. In mixed Companies, also, different ages and sexes are to be differently addressed. Although we -ire to be respectful toward all, old age par ticularly requires to be treated with a degree -of deference and regard. It is a good gen eral rule, to accustom ourselves to have a >kind feeling to every thing connected with toan; and when this is the case, we shall ^aeldom err in the application. The inward 'feeling will appear in the outward conduct. Do not be Forward. Another important point in decorum is, not to thrust our own present humor and dis position indiscriminately against everybody, but to observe and adopt theirs. And if we cannot -find one of similar humor and disposition, it is necessary to single out those to converse with who happen to be in the humor the nearest to our own. Peremptori- ness and conceit, especially in young peo ple, is contrary to good breeding: they should seldom seem to dissent, and always use some softening mitigating expression. There is a decorum also with regard to people of the lowest degree; a gentleman observes it with his coachman, and even indeed with the beggar in the street He considers them as objects of compassion, not of insult; he speaks to neither in a harsh tone, but corrects the one gently, and refuses the other with humanity. The following observations perhaps con tain the sum of the art of pleasing : i. A fixed and habitual resolution of en deavoring -to please will seldom fail of effect. and its effect will every day become more visible as this habit increases in strength. 2. This resolution must be regulated by a very considerable degree of good sense. 3. It is a maxim of almost general appli cation, that what pleases us in another will also please others in us. 4. A constant and habitual attention to the different dispositions of mankind, to their ruling passions, and to their peculiar or oc casional humors, is absolutely necessary. 5. A man who would please must possess a firm, equal, and steady temper. And, 6. An easy and graceful manner, as dis tant from bashfulness on the one hand as from impudence on the other. "He who thinks himself sure of pleasing (says Lord Chesterfield), and he who despairs of it, are equally sure to fail." And he is undoubtedly right The one, by his assuming vanity, is inattentive to the means of pleasing ; and the other, from fear, is rendered incapable of employing them. Necessity of Observing- Etiquette. Politeness is one of those advantages which we never estimate rightly but by the inconvenience of its loss. Its influence upon the manners is constant and uniform, so that, like an equal motion, it escapes perception. Yet the difference between a polite person and one who is impolite is very marked, Those who do not possess good breeding are not apt to understand its importance and worth. But as sickness shows us the value of ease^ a little familiarity with those who were never taught to contribute to the gratification oi others, but regulate their behavior merely by their own will, will soon evince the necessity of established modes and formalities to the happiness and quiet of common life. Wisdom and virtue are by no means suffi cient. without the supplemental laws of good " MANNERS MAKE THE MAN." 21 breeding, to secure freedom from degenera ting into rudeness, or self-esteem from swell ing into insolence ; a thousand incivilities may be committed, and a thousand offices neg lected, without any remorse of conscience, or reproach from reason. The true effect of genuine politeness seems to be ease and hence pleasure. The power of delighting must be conferred by nature, and cannot be delivered by precept, or ob tained by imitation ; but though it be the privilege of a very small number to ravish and to charm, all persons may hope by rules and caution not to give offence, and may, there fore, by the help of good-breeding, enjoy the kindness of their fellows, though they should have no claim to higher distinction. Keep Self in the Background. The universal axiom from which flow all the formalities which custom has established in civilized nations is, That no man shall give any preference to himself- a rule so com prehensive that, perhaps, it is not easy for the mind to imagine an incivility, without sup posing this rule to be broken. There are, indeed, in every place, some particular modes of the ceremonial part of good-breeding, which being arbitrary and accidental, can be learned only by residence and conversation; such are the forms of salutation, the different gradations of rever ence, and all the adjustments of place and precedence. These, however, may be often violated without offence, if it be sufficiently evident, that neither malice nor pride con tributed to the failure ; but will not atone, however rigidly observed, for insolence, or petulance. I have, indeed, not found among any part of mankind, less real and rational good-breed ing, than among those who have passed their time in paying and receiving visits, in frequent ing public entertainments, in studying- the exact measures of ceremony, and in watching all the variations of fashionable courtesy. They know, indeed, at what hour they may be at the door of an acquaintance, how many steps they must attend him towards the gate,:' and what interval should pass before his visit is returned ; but seldom extend their care beyond the exterior and unessential parts of civility, nor refuse their own vanity any gratification, however expensive to the quiet of another. To love all men is our duty, so far as it includes a general habit of benevolence, and readiness for occasional kindness ; but to love all equally is impossible ; at least impos sible without the extinction of those passions which now produce all our pains and all our pleasures, and without the disuse, if not the abolition, of some of our faculties, and the suppression of all our hopes and fears in apathy and indifference. The necessities of our condition require a thousand offices of tenderness, which mere, regard for the species will never dictate. Every man has frequent grievances which only the solicitude of friendship will discover and remedy, and which would remain for ever unheeded in the mighty mass of human calamity, were it only surveyed by the eye of general benevolence, equally attentive to every misery. Always be in a Good Humor. Good-humor may be defined a habit of being pleased ; a constant and perennial soft ness of manner, easiness of approach, and suavity of disposition ; like that which every man perceives in himself, when the first, transports of new felicity have subsided, and his thoughts are only kept in motion by a slow succession of soft impulses. Good humor is a state between gaiety and tmeoa* cern, the act or emanation of a mind at leisr . ure to regard the gratification of another KCJLES OF ETIQUETTE FOR ALL OCCASIONS. It is imagined by many, that whenever they aspire to please, they are required to be merry, and to show the gladness of their souls by flights of pleasantry, and bursts of laughter. But though these men may be for a time heard with applause and admira tion, they seldom delight us long. We enjoy them a little, and then retire to easiness and good humor, as the eye gazes awhile on an eminence glittering with the sun, but soon turns achiag away to verdure and flowers. Gaiety is to good humor as animal per fumes to vegetable fragrance ; the one over powers weak spirits, and the other recreates and revives them. Gaiety seldom fails to give some disgust; the hearers either strain their faculties to accompany its outbursts, or are left behind in envy and despair. Good humor boasts no faculties which every one does not believe to be in his own power, and pleases principally by not offending. It is well known that the most certain way to give any man pleasure is to persuade him that you receive pleasure from him, to en courage him to freedom and confidence, and to avoid any such appearance of superiority as may overbear and depress him. We see many that by this art only, spend their days in the midst of caresses, invitations, and civilities; and without any extraordinary qualities or attainments, are the universal favorites of both sexes, and certainly find a friend in every place. The darlings and favorites of the world are generally those who excite neither jealousy nor fear, and are not considered as candidates for any eminent degree of reputation, but content themselves with common accomplishments, and en deavor rather to solicit good will than to raise esteem ; therefore, in assemblies and places of resort, it seldom fails to happen, that though at the entrance of some particular person, every face brightens with gladness, and every hand is extended in salutation, yet if you pursue him beyond the first exchange oi civilities, you will find him of only ordinary importance, and welcome to the company as one by whom all conceive themselves admired, and with whom any one is at liberty to amuse himself when he can find no other auditor or companion. He can place all at ease if he will hear a jest with out criticism, and a narrative without con tradiction, laugh at every wit, and yield to every disputer. There are many whose vanity always in clines them to associate with those from whom they have no reason to fear mortifica tion ; and there are times in which the wise and the knowing are willing to receive praise without the labor of deserving it. They are pleased with the appreciation bestowed by others when no great effort is made to obtain it All therefore are at some hour or another fond of companions whom they can entertain upon easy terms, and who will relieve them from solitude, without condemning them to vigilance and caution. We are most inclined to love when we have nothing to fear, and he that encourages us to please ourselves, will not be long without preference in our affection to those whose learning holds us at the distance of pupils, or whose wit calls all attention from us, and leaves us without importance and without regard. We dislike to be placed i such unpleasant contrast with others. CHAPTER IL The True Lady. tf AGREEABLE, modest, and digni fied bearing is, in the younger period of a woman's existence, almost like & dower to her. Whatever may be the tran sient craze and fashion of the day, that which is amiable, graceful, and true in taste, will always please the majority of the world. A young lady, properly so called, should not require to have allowances made for her. Well brought up, her address should be polite and gentle, and it will, soon after her introduction to society, become easy " to be civil with ease." On first being introduced to any stranger, there is no insincerity in the display of a certain pleasure. We are advised by Wil- berforce to give our good-will, at first, on leasehold. To the elder, a deferential bow marks the well brought up girl. She must not receive her new acquaintance with a hysteric laugh, such as I have seen whole families prone to; neither must she look heavy, draw down her mouth, and appear as if she did not care for her new acquaintance ; nor must she look at once over the dress of the person introduced as if taking an in ventory of it ; nor appear hurried, as if glad to get away on the first break in the conver sation. She must give due attention, or reasonable time to perfect the introduction, to a certain extent Volubility is to be Avoided; to overpower with a volley of words is more cruel than kind; the words Should be gently spoken, not drawled, and the voice loud enough to be caught easily, but always in an undertone to the power of Voice allotted by nature. Some persons appear to go to the extreme, and deafen you ; they may speak thfl words of wisdom, but you wish them dumlx Others mumble so that you are forced con tinually to express your total inability to follow the drift of their remarks; others drawl so that you feel that life is not long enough for such acquaintance. All tb^se are habits to be conquered in youth. Be Natural. Avoid, especially, affectation. It was once in fashion. Some ladies put it on with theil dresses ; others, by a long practice, were suc cessful in making it habitual. It became what was called their manner. Sophia has a manner; it is not affectation , "it is her manner, only manner." Affectation has long ceased to be the fashion, and like many other bygone peculiarities, one sees it only in vulgar society. There is d way also of looking that must be regulated. The audacious stare is odious j the sly, oblique, impenetrable look is unsatis factory. Softly and kindly should the eyes be raised to those 'of the speaker, and only withdrawn when the speech, whatever it may be, is concluded. Immediate intimacy and a familiar manner are worse than the glum look with which some young ladies have a habit of regarding their fellow mortals. There is also a certain dignity of manners necessary to make even the most superior persons I* spected. This dignity can hardly be as sumed ; it cannot be taught ; it must be the result of intrinsic qualities, aided by a knowl' edge very much overlooked in modern edu cation "the knowledge how to behave, * RULES OF ETIQUETTE FOR ALL OCCASIONS. tt is distinct from pretension, which is about the worst feature of bad manners, and creates nothing but disgust A lady should be equal to every occasion. Her politeness, her equa nimity, her presence of mind, should attend her to the court and to the cottage. Be Amiable. Neither should private vexations be allowed to act upon her manners, either in her own house or in those of others. If unfit for so ciety, let her refrain from entering it. If she enters it, let her remember that every one is expected to add something to the general stock of pleasure or improvement. The slight self-command required by good society is often beneficial both to the temper and spirits. One great discredit to the present day is the " loud young lady." She is the hoyden of the old comedies, without the indelicacy of that character. An avowed flirt, she does not scruple to talk of her conquests, real or imaginary. You may know her by her phrases. She talks of "the men," of such and such "a charmer." She does not mind, but rather prefers sitting with "the men" when they are smoking ; she "ides furiously, and plays billiards. But it is in her marked antagonism to her own sex that the " loud " young lady is perceptible. She shuts up her moral perceptions, and sees neither beauty nor talent in her own sex. With all this she is often violently confident, and calls all idiots who differ from her in I can scarcely say her opinions but rather her prejudices. By degrees, the assumption of assurance which has had its source in bad taste, be comes real ; a hard, bold look, a free tongue, and above all, the latitude of manner shown , to her by the other sex, and allowed by her, show that the inward characteristics have 4Hkr..ed the outward, and that she is become jusensible to all that she has lost of feminine charm, and gained in effrontery. For the instant a woman loses the true feminine type, she parts from half her influence. The coquette is flattered, admired openly, but secretly condemned. Many a plain woman has gained and kept a heart by being merely womanly and gentle. In one respect, how ever, the flirt may console herself; her flirta tions are as fearless as her expressions; they do little harm to any but herself. Broken hearts have not to turn reproachfully to loud high-spirited, overbearing women, "jolly girls," as they are styled ; "chaff" in which they delight as often offends as amuses. To gain an empire over the affections of others, there must be somewhat of sentiment or sympathy in the nature of woman. Your loud, boastful, positive young lady, will never be remembered with a soft interest, unless there be, perchance, some soft touch in her that redeems her from hardness. Flirtation. With regard to flirtation, it is difficult to draw a limit where the predilection of the moment becomes the more tender and seri ous feeling, and flirtation sobers into a more honorable form of devoted attention. T Ve all dread for our daughters imprudent and harrassing attachments ; let it not, how ever, be supposed that long practiced flirta tions are without their evil effects on the character and manners. They excite and amuse, but they also exhaust the spirit, They expose women to censure and to mis- construction; that is their least evil; they destroy the charm of her manners and the simplicity of her heart. Yet the coquette clings to flirtation of the type of her class; it is the privilege of that social instinct which enables one flirt to discover and find out another. She glories in number. Where a rival has slain her thousands, she has over thrown her tens of thousands. She forgets THE TRUE LADY. that, with every successive flirtation, one charm after another disappears, like the petals from a fading rose, until all the de- liciousness of a fresh and pure character is lost in the destructive sport On all these points a woman should take a high tone in the beginning of her life. It is sure to be sufficiently lowered as time goes on. She loses, too, that sort of tact which prevents her from discerning when she has gone too far, and the forward young lady becomes the hardened and practiced flirt, against whom all men are on their guard. Substantial Virtues. Says a well-known English author: "It is true that, in comparing the present day with former times, we must take into account, when we praise the models of more chivalric days, that we know only the best specimens ; the interior life of the middle classes is veiled from us by the mist of ages. Yet it is to be deduced from biography, as well as from the testimony of the poets and dramatists, that there was, before the Restoration, a sort of halo around young women of delicacy and good breeding, owing, perhaps, in part, to the more retired lives that they led, but more to the remnants of that fast-departing senti ment of chivalrous respect which youth and beauty inspired. Then came the upsetting demoralization of the Restoration, when all prudent fathers kept their daughters from court, and only the bold and unrefined re mained to furnish chronicles for De Gram- mont; we are not, therefore, to judge of the young women of England by his pictures. The character of English ladies rose again to a height of moral elevation during the placid and well-conducted rule of Anne, and continued, as far as related to single women, to be the pride and boast of the country. Even now, when the reckless flirtation, loud voices, unamusing jokes, which are comprised under the odious term 'chaff,' and the culine tastes of the present day are deprecated, events bring forth from time to time such in stances of devotion and virtue as must con vince one that there is no degeneracy in out own countrywomen on solid points. Few, indeed, are these instances, among the class we have described. We must not look for Florence Nightingales and Miss Marshes among that company of the unrefined." The Prude and Blue-Stocking 1 . Contrasted with the coquette, comes forth the prude, and her friend the blue-stock ing, who see harm in everything. You may know the prude by her stolid air of resist ance to mankind in general, and by her patronizing manner to her onn sex. Her style of manner is repressive ; her style of conversation, reprehensive. Sn^ bas started in life with an immense conceit of her own mental powers and moral attributes, of which the world in general is scarcely woi thy. Her manner is indicative of this conviction ; and becomes accordingly, without her intending it, offensive, when she believes herself to be polite. The prude and the pedant are often firm friends, each adoring the other. The unre fined young lady deals largely in epithets : "idiot, dolt, wretch, humbug, fraud," drop from her lips ; but the prude and her friend the blue-stocking permit themselves to use conventional phrases only ; their notion of conversation is that it be instructive, and, at the same time, mystifying. The young blue stocking has, nevertheless, large views of the regeneration of society, and emancipation of woman from her degrading inferiority of social position. She speaks in measured phrase ; it is like listening to a book to hear her. She is wrapped up in Tennyson, Browning and Holmes. There is, in all this, a great aim at display, with a self-righteous- RULES OF ETIQUETTE FOR ALL OCCASIONS. ness that is very unpleasing. Avoid, there fore, either extreme, and be convinced that an artless gaiety, tempered by refinement, always pleases. Every attempt to obtrude on a company subjects either to which they are indifferent, or of which they are ignorant, is in bad taste. *' Man should be taught as though you taught him not, And things unknown proposed as things forgot." The Married Lady. The bearing of married women should so Jbr differ from that of the unmarried, that there should be greater quietness and dignity ; a more close adherence to forms ; and an obvious, as well as a real abandonment of the admiration which has been received before marriage. All flirtation, however it may be countenanced by the present custom of society, should be sternly and forever put aside. There is no reason for conversation to be less lively, or society less agreeable ; it is, indeed, likely to be more so, if flattered vanity, which may be wounded at any moment, interposes, not to m-ar but to en hance enjoyment. If a young married woman wishes to be respected, and therefore happy in life, there should be a quiet pro priety of manner, a dignity towards the male sex, which cannot be mistaken in her for prudery, since it is consistent with her posi tion and her ties. She should change her tone, if that has been unrefined ; she should not put herself on a level with young un married women of her own age, but should influence and even lead her youthful acquaint ance into that style of behavior which is much esteemed by men of good taste. She should father discountenance coquetry, but has no need to copy or to bring forward the prude and the blue-stocking. With regard to dress, it is impossible to do more than offer a few general observations. Hie fashion of dress is of to-day ; but the aesthetics of dress are for all time. No ma ter to what absurd lengths fashion may go, a woman of taste will ever avoid the ridicu lous. The milliner and dressmaker may handle the scissors never so despotically, but in matters of color, harmony, and contrast, they remain under the control of their en> ployer. Dress, indeed, may fairly claim to be considered in the light of a fine art. To dress well demands something more than a full purse and a pretty figure. It requires taste, good sense, and refinement. Propriety of Dress. A woman of taste and good sense will neither make dress her first nor her last object in life. She will remember that no wife should betray that total indifference for her husband's taste which is implied in the neglect of her appearance ; and she will also remember that to dress consistently and taste fully is one of the duties which she owes tc society. There is a Spanish proverb which says, "Every hair has its shadow," So, in like manner, every lady, however insignificant hei social position may appear to herself, must exercise a certain influence on the feelings and opinions of others. If, therefore, the art of dressing appears either too irksome or too frivolous to such of the fair sex as are en gaged in serious occupations, let them re member that it performs the same part in beautifying domestic life as is performed by -jnusic and the fine arts in embellishing the life moral and spiritual. So long, there* fore, as dress merely occupies so much time and requires so much money as we are fairly entitled to allow it, nothing can be said against it. When extravagant fashions are indulged in extravagant habits fostered at any cost and under any circumstances the critic is quite justified in his strictures, how ever severe. Dress, to be in perfect taste. THE TRUE LADY. need not be costly ; and no woman of right feeling will adorn her person at the expense of her husband's comfort or her children's education. Good Taste. " As a work of art a well-dressed woman Is a study." Her toilette will be as well chosen at the family breakfast-table as at the boll. If she loves bright colors and can wear them with impunity, they will be as harmo niously arranged as an artist arranges his colors on the palette. If she is young, her dress will be youthful ; if she is old, it v/ill not affect simplicity. She will always follow rather than lead the prevailing fashion, and rather follow her own fashion than violate good taste or common sense. The golden rule in dress is to avoid ex tremes. Do not be so original in your dress as to be peculiar ; and do not affect fashions that are radically unbecoming to you. Ladies who are neither very young nor very striking in appearance cannot do better than wear quiet colors. Ladies who are not rich can always appear well dressed, with a little care in the choice and the arrangement of the materials. Whatever the texture of the dress, it should be made by the very best dressmaker you can afford. As well go to a third or a fourth-rate dentist, music-master, or doctor, as go to a third or fourth-rate dressmaker. The dressmaker is a woman's good or evil genius. Morning dress should be faultless in its way. For young ladies, married or unmar ried, nothing is prettier in summer than white or very light morning dresses of wash ing materials. Light dresses must be ex quisitely fresh and clean, ribbons fresh, collars and cuffs irreproachable. All stuffs are to be rigidly eschewed except those of the very finest kind. Morning dress for elderly ladies of wealth and position should be of 27 dark silk. Jewelry, hair ornament, and light silk dresses are not permissible for morning wear. Walking dress should always be quiet. Rich walking dress attracts attention, which in the street is not desirable. For the car riage, a lady may dress as elegantly as she pleases. Elderly ladies should always dress richly. Any thin old lady may wear delicate colors^ whilst a stout, florid person looks best in black or dark gray. For young as well as old, the question of colors must, however, be determined by complexion and figure. Rich colors harmonize with rich brunette complexions and dark hair ; delicate colors are the most suitable for delicate and fragile styles of beauty, At dinner parties, unless of a smaK friendly kind, only the fullest dress is appro priate. Demi-toilette can be worn at uncere monious dinners, and even high dresses, ii the material be sufficiently rich. It is better to wear real flowers at large dinner parties, but artificial ones at balls ; since the former would droop and fall to pieces with the heat and the dancing. What Jewelry to Wear. Much jewelry is out of place for young ladies at any time ; and, indeed, there is as much propriety to be observed in the wear ing of jewelry as in the wearing of dresses. Diamonds, pearls, rubies, and all transparent precious stones belong to evening dress, and should never be worn before dinner. In the morning, one's rings should be of the f.im plest kind, and the jewelry limited to i good brooch, gold chain, and watch. Dia monds and pearls are as much out of place during the morning as a low dress or a wreath. It is well to remember in the choice of jewelry that mere costliness is not always the test of value ; and that an exquisite work of 28 RULES OF ETIQUETTE FOR ALL OCCASIONS. art, or a natural rarity, such as a black pearl, is a possession more desirable than a large brilliant which any one who has money enough can buy as well as yourself. Gloves, shoes, and boots must always be faultless. Gloves cannot be too light for the carriage, or too dark for the streets. A woman with ill-fitting gloves cannot be said to be well dressed; while to wear soiled gloves at your friend's reception is to show her that you think lightly of herself and her company. It may be remarked, by the way, that per fumes should be used only in the evening, and with the strictest moderation. Perfumes to be tolerable must be of the most delicate kind Some people of sensitive temperament would be made ill by the smell of musk or patchouli. Let every lady remember Dr. Johnson's criticism on a lady's dress : "I am sure she was well dressed," said the Doctor, "for I cannot remember what she had on." Apparel for the Street. Suit your dresses to the occasion upon which they are to be used. In the morning, at home, a lady may wear a loose, flowing dress, made high in the neck, with a belt at the waist, and with loose sleeves fastened at the wrist. On the street a walking-costume should be worn, and the dress should clear the ground. Fashion may sometimes demand a trailing dress for the street, but no lady should submit to such a demand. There is nothing more disgusting than to see a rich dress sweeping up the dirt and filth of the street. The shoes for the street should be high, warm, and easy to the feet, with a low, broad heel, and should be always neatly blackened. For ordinary street wear a lady may use either a hat or a bonnet. This is a matter of taste. In the dress of ladies, great autude .is allowed; but the aim of the gentle sex should be simplicity and taste. Consider what colors will suit your com< plexion. If a lady is dark, blue will not look well upon her ; or if she be fair, pink will not become her. The most trying color is yellow. Only very pronounced brunettes can wear it. A lady must also take her size into consideration in selecting her dress. Stripes running the length of the dress have the effect of making a short person look taller, and should not be worn by a tall per son. On the other hand, flounces may be worn by tall persons only, as they cause them to look shorter. It is important that a lady should always dress neatly at home. She is then ready ta receive a morning caller without having to change her dress. She should change hei dress for the evening. Some neat and dainty costume should be worn, according to hei taste, for it is in the evening that she is thrown most with the male members of her family, and is most likely to have visitors. In making evening calls upon her friends r a lady should wear a hood, or some light head-wrap easily laid aside. A bonnet saould always be removed at the commencement of such a visit. Public Occasions. The fashion of the time should govern the evening dress. It always means full dress, but it is impossible to give any fixed rule re* garding it. A competent dressmaker, or the fashion publications of the time, will give the necessary information. In Europe, the even ing dress requires the exposure of the arms and neck ; but in this country the more sen* sible plan of covering these parts of the body is fairly the fashion, and should be observed except on very special occasions. The dress for balls and soirees should be of the richest and most elaborate description^ with elegant jewelry, This is a matter orf THE TRUE LADY. taste with the lady, who should avoid being over dressed. White kid gloves and white satin or kid boots are most suitable to a ball dress. If the overdress is of black lace, black Satin shoes are worn. The richest full dress should be worn at the opera. This must be governed by the prevailing fashion. The head should be bare, and dressed in the most becoming style. Jewelry may be worn, according to taste, as there is no place where it shows to better advantage. A light or brilliant colored opera cloak will add greatly to the lady's appearance and comfort. Gloves of white, or delicately tinted kid only are to be worn. The ordinary walking-dress is suitable for the theatre and places of amusement generally. A rich and elegant shawl may be worn, as it can be thrown off when uncomfortable. Dress for Church. Plain and simple dress should be \vorn for -church, with very little jewelry. The cos tume should be of quiet colors. It is a mark of bad taste for ladies to attend church elab orately or conspicuously dressed. It shows a disregard for the solemnity of the sanctuary, and is calculated to draw off the attention of others from the duties of the place. In re ceiving the Holy Communion, the hands should be ungloved. A lady's street dress should be simple and without display. To dress conspicuously or in brilliant colors for the street is a sign of bad breeding. In bad weather, a light rubber or cloth waterproof with a hood is more con venient and a better protection than an umbrella. To wear much jewelry on the street is vulgar. In large cities it subjects a lady to the danger of robbery. Travelling costume should be simple and of quiet colors, such as will not show dirt. A very slight display of jewelry should be made, specially if the lady is travelling alone.. A waterproof cloak should be carried along, as no one can tell at what time it may be needed. In the summer, a long linen duster should be worn over the dress. It should be belted at the waist. For the country or sea-side, simple and inexpensive dresses should be provided for ordinary wear. The bonnet should give place to a hat with a brim sufficiently wide to shield the face and neck from the sun. Bathing dresses should be made of blue or gray flannel. The skirt should come down to the ankles, and the sleeves should be long. An oil silk or India-rubber cap, fitting tightly around the head, will protect the hair from the salt water. Consider your age in choosing your cos tume. An old woman cannot properly dress like a young girl. No one should dress in the "height of the fashion." Moderation is a sure mark of good breeding. It is impossible to prescribe an exact style or mode of dress for ladies in all places and on all occasions. Fashion will change, and, it must be confessed, in the matter of female costume, its changes have been for the better. New Attractions. Every lady should keep her eyes open to the changes which are constantly going on in the fashionable world. The female mind is unusually busy at the present time, and some of the best talent of the country is employed in devising new and beautiful cos tumes. The journals of fashion are as ably edited as any of our great political journals or literary magazines. If a young lady proves herself to be an expert in making new designs, such as will be popular, she commands a salary equal to that paid for the best literary talent Instances are on record of young girls who have shown great genius in this direction, and have amassed comfort able fortunes at a comparatively early age. CHAPTER III. The True Gentleman. |OIT nust be a gentleman before you cart act the gentleman. If you attempt to put on what you have not, the world will discover the cheat, and will ridicule your hypocrisy. How are we to define that unmistakable something, in every look and word, that makes a gentleman or gentlewoman? May good breeding be acquired as an art? and if so, where are we to seek the best professors? Who does not wish to give his children, above all other accomplishments, that inestimable branch of education, the manners of good society? What is learning, what are abilities, what are personal attractions, what is wealth, with out this one supreme essential? A man may know as many languages as Burritt, may have made scientific discoveries greater than those of Herschel or Darwin, may be as rich as a Vanderbilt, as brave as a Sheridan or Jackson, yet if he has a habit of hesitating over his words, or twisting his limbs, of twirling his thumbs, of laughing boisterously, of doing or saying awkward trifles, of what account is he in society? But we would by no means be understood to say that these mere outward observances con stitute the essence of good manners. Neither gestures, nor tones, nor habits, can be ac cepted as infallible signs of good or ill breed ing. Yawning, and lolling, and knife-swal- towing, are terrible habits enough, and would oe, of course, sufficient to exclude any man or woman who practiced them from the pre cincts of good society ; not only because they are in themselves offensive, but because they would point to foregone associations of a vulgar kind ; but they do not of necessity prove that the primary essentials of goov manners the foundation, so to speak, upon which the edifice of good manners should be built is wanting in those unfortunate per sons who are guilty of the offences in ques tion. That foundation, that primary essential, is goodness innate goodness, innate gentle ness, innate unselfishness. Upon these quali ties, and these alone, are based all those observances and customs which we class together under the head of good manners. And these good manners, be it remembered, do not merely consist in the art of bowing gracefully, of entering a room well, of talk ing easily, of being familiar with all tht minor habits of the best society. A man may have all this, know all this, and yet, if he be selfish, or ill-natured, or untruthful, fail altogether of being a true gentleman, and repel those who are well bred. Good manners are far, indeed, from being the outward evidences of mere training and discipline. They are the kindly fruits of a refined nature. As j ust and elevated thoughts expressed in choice language are the index of a highly trained and well-regulated mind, so does every act, however unimportant; and every gesture, however insignificant reveal the kindly, considerate, modest, loya* nature of the true gentleman and the tra lady. Hear what Ruskin has to say of the char acteristics of the true gentleman : " A gen tleman's first characteristic is that fineness oi structure in the body which renders it capa- THE TRUE GENTLEMAN. ble of the most delicate sensation, and of that structure in the mind which renders it capable of the most delicate sympathies one may say, simply, 'fineness of nature.' This is, of course, compatible with heroic bodily strength and mental firmness ; in fact, heroic strength is not conceivable without such delicacy. Elephantine strength may drive its way through a forest, and feel no touch of the boughs ; but the white skin of Homer's Atrides would have felt a bent rose-leaf, yet subdue its feelings in glow of battle, and behave itself like iron. I do not mean to call an elephant a vulgar animal: but if you think about him carefully, you will find that his non-vulgarity consists in such gen tleness as is possible to elephantine nature; not in his insensitive hide, nor in his clumsy foot, but in the way he will lift his foot if a child lies in his path ; and in his sensitive trunk, and still more sensitive mind, and capability of pique on points of honor. Hence it will follow, that one of the probable signs of high breeding in men generally will be their kindness and mercifulness ; these always indicating more or less firmness of make in the mind." Kindly Consideration of Others. Manners and morals are indissolubly allied, and he who undertakes to discourse of the one can never, in his own mind, lose sight of the other. Just as it may be shown that every form of salutation takes its origin either in some religious observance or in some curious medi aeval ceremony, so it may also be shown that the simplest rules of etiquette are traceable, in their essence, to that unselfishness of na ture, and that kindly consideration for others, which Ruskin, as we have just seen, defines as "fi^eiaess of nature.' * and adduces as the touchstone of genuine oreeding. To listen with patience, however prosy our entertainer may be ; to smile at the thrice-told jest ; to yield the best seat, or the choicest dish, ot the most amusing volume, are acts, not of mere civility, but of kindness and unselfish ness. So of every other prescribed rule of social conduct so of that abstinence from in terruption or contradiction in conversation ; ol that suppression of a yawn ; of that cheerful countenance concealing inward anxiety 01 weariness; of those perpetual endeavors t<* please and to seem pleased, which end by be coming a second nature to the really well brer 1 peinon. Marks of Vulgarity. Analyze each one of these acts, and it re solves itself into a concession towards the feelings, the vanity, or the comfort of others. Its essence is unselfishness. Its animating spirit is forbearance. The proposition is demonstrable by a process of reversal. If goodness be the parent of politeness, is not badness the parent of vulgarity ? Is not bad temper vulgar? Is not selfishness vulgar? Is not scandal vulgar ? Are not greediness, egotism, inquisitiveness, prevarication, lying,, and dishonesty, one and all, utterly vulgar? In a word, is not vice vulgar? If, then, we desire that our children shall be come ladies and gentlemen, can we make them so, think you, by lavishing money upon for eign professors, dancing masters, continental tours, tailors and dressmakers? Ah, no I good breeding is far less costly, and begins far earlier than those things. Let our lit tle ones be nurtured in an atmosphere of gentleness and kindness from the nursery upwards ; let them grow up in a home where a rude gesture or an ill-tempered word are alike unknown; where between father and mother, master and servant, mistrc-ss and maid, friend and friend, parent and child, prevails the -law of truth, of kindness, of con sideration for others, and forgetralness of sel 3 2 RULES OF ETIQUETTE Can they cany into the world, whither we send them later, aught of coarseness, of un- truthfulness, of slatternliness, of vulgarity, if their home has been orderly, if their parents have been refined, their servants well-man nered, their friends and playmates kind and carefully trained as themselves ? Do we want our boys to succeed in the world; our girls to be admired and loved; their tastes to be elegant; their language .choice; their manners simple, charming, graceful ; their friendships elevating ? Then we must ourselves be what we would have our children to be, remembering the golden maxim, that good manners, like charity, must begin at home. Good manners are an immense social force. We should therefore spare no pains to teach our children what to io, and what to p^oid doing, in their pathway through life. What Emerson says of Mann ' TS. "When we reflect," says Emerson, "how manners recommend, prepare, and draw peo ple together; how, in all clubs, manners make the members ; how manners make the fortune of the ambitious youth ; that, for the most part, his manners marry him, and, for the most part, he marries manners ; when we think what keys they are, and to what se crets ; what high lessons and inspiring tokens of character they convey ; and what divina tion is required in us for the reading of this fine telegraph, we see what range the subject has, and what relations to convenience, form tnd beauty." Again the same writer says, " The maxim if courts is power. A calm and resolute bearing, a polished speech, an embellishment of trifles, and the art of hiding all uncomfort able feelings, are essential to the courtier. Manners impress, as they indicate real power. A man who is sure of his point carries a broad and contented expression, which every- FOR ALL OCCASIONS. body reads ; and you cannot rigntly train to an air and manner, except by making him the kind of man of whom that manner is the natural expression. Nature for ever puts a premium on reality." The manners of a gentleman are the index of his soul. His speech is innocent, because his life is pure ; his thoughts are direct, because his actions are upright ; his bearing is gentle, because his blood, and his impulses, and his training, are gentle also. A true gentleman is entirely free from every kind of pretence. He avoids homage, instead of exacting it Mere ceremonies have no attraction for him. He seeks no more to say civil things, than to do them. His hospitality, though hearty and sincere, will be strictly regulated by his means. His friends will be chosen for their good qualities and good manners ; his servants, for their truthfulness and honesty ; his occupations, for their use fulness, or their gracefulness, or their elevating tendencies, whether moral, or mental, or political. And so we come round again to our first maxim ; that " good manners are the kindly fruit of a refined nature." Personal Appearance. Young says : Nothing exceeds in ridicule, no doubt, A fool in fashion but a fool that's out. The personal appearance is a matter of the first concern. We see what a man is before we see what he does or says. Buffon has remarked that a man's clothes are a part of the individual, and enter into our idea of the character. No man who is acquainted experimentally with the world, or who has reasoned upon the progress of feeling, can regard the matter of dress as an unim portant consideration. So intimatdy are the impressions of the senses connected with the conclusions of the intellect, that though we may dread, it is impossible to respect, a THE TRUE GENTLEMAN. 33 person who dresses very negligently. The action which is formed of the interior quali ties is insensibly influenced by the exterior show. " We must speak to the eyes," says Walpole, "if we wish to affect the mind." The personal appearance is particularly Important where women are concerned ; for most of them make it a rule to judge of; character by the first impression. Good dressing is as important in courtship as in cookery. The lavery of Good Society. In paying a visit or in seeking company, it is manifestly a compliment to be well- dressed, and an insult to be slovenly. But even in a casual encounter, and upon occa sions where your habit can have no connection with the feelings and sentiments which you have towards those whom you meet, neat and careful dressing will bring great advantage to you. A negligent guise shows a man to be satisfied with his own resources, engrossed with his own notions and schemes, indifferent to the opinion of others, and not looking abroad for entertainment: to such a man no one feels encouraged to make any ad vances. A finished dress indicates a man of the world, one who looks' for, and habitually finds pleasure in society and conversation, and who is at all times ready to mingle in inter course with those whom he meets ; it is a kind 01 general offer of acquaintance, and proves a willingness to be spoken to. Dress is the livery cf good society ; and no one can get practice in his profession who does not wear the badge of his calling. Dress is a thing very significant of inward feeling, and very operative upon outward conduct. That courtier was in the right, who dated the commencement of the French Revolution from the day when a nobleman appeared at Versailles without buckles in his shoes. The early institutors of the Society 3 of Friends displayed consummate 7i'sdom in providing for the perpetual separation of their sect by the distinction of dress. Story of the Jackals. "A story," says an eminent writer, "is, never too old to tell, if it be made to sound new." If this be true, I may be excused for narrating the following history : In an In dian jungle there once resided a tawny jackal, a member, as all those animals are, of a jackal club which met at night in the said jungle. It was the custom for the different subscribers to separate early in the evening on predatory excursions, and on one occasion the individua' in question having dined very sparingly that day on a leg of horse, ventured, in hopes of a supper, within the precincts of a neighboring town. It happened that while employed in the prowling distinctive of his kind, he fell into a sunken vat filled with indigo, and when he had contrived to struggle out again, discov ered, by the light of the moon, that his coat had assumed a brilliant blue tinge. In vain he rolled himself on the grass, in vain rubbed his sides against the bushes of the jungle to which he shortly returned. The blue stuck to him, and so, with theacuteness for which jack als are renowned, he determined to "stick to" it Shame indeed would have overcome him, ridicule have driven him to despair, when he rejoined his club, but for this resolution. That very morning he appeared among his kind, whisking his tail with glee and holding his head erect. A titter, of course, welcomed him, and, before long, you would have thought that every jackal present had been turned into a laughing hyena. Our hero was nothing abashed. "Gentlemen" said he, in the dialect of Hindustani peculiar to his kind, " I have been to town and bring you the last new fashion." The laughtet changed to respectful admiration. One by RULES OF ETIQUETTE FOR ALL OCCASIONS. one the members of the club stole up to him and inquired where he had met with the col- ~-i2'ig, J us t as George IV asked Brummell what tailor had made that coat The address was imparted, and if on the following even ing not all of the prowling beasts appeared in a blue coat, it was only because three of them had been drowned in the attempt to procure ft Fashion is called a despot ; but if men, like the jackals and foxes, are willing, nay, eager to be its slaves, we cannot, and ought not, to upbraid fashion. Its adoption is, in short, nothing more than the confession that vanity makes of its own weakness. The worst of it is, that the man who rebels against fashion, is even more open t<^ the imputation of vanity than he who ob' ys it, because he makes himself conspicuo'<.*s, and practically announces that he is wis^r than his kind. There cannot be greater vulgarity than an affectation of superior simplicity. Between the two it is left to th your hostess before quitting the house. Should other callers be announced during your visit, wait until the bustle attending their entrance is over. Then rise quietly and take your leave, bowing to the new-comers. Your hostess is not obliged to introduce you to her other visitors, and you should take no offence at her failure to do so. Do not make it appear that your departure is on account of the new arrivals. When a call is ended it is customary among the best bred people to ring for a servant to open the front door for a visitor. Some persons prefer to attend visitors to the door themselves ; and this should be done if a servant is not called upon. It is not court eous to let a visitor find his or her way out of your house unattended. In making a call, if the lady called upon is not at home, leave your card ; and if there are several ladies staying there whom you desire to see, request the servant to present your compliments to them severally. Should you not have a card, leave your name with the servant. Gules for Gentlemen. The circumstances under which gentlemen may make formal morning calls are limited. They may do so to express congratulations, sympathy, or condolence ; to pay their re spects to a friend who has just returned froiu a foreign country or a protracted visit ; or to pay their respects to ladies who have ac cepted their escort to parties or places of amusement. In the last mentioned instance the call should not be delayed more than a day. A gentleman may call upon an ac-, quaintance to whom he has presented letters of introduction, or to return thanks for some favor received. There are other cases which must be governed by circumstances and the good sense of the person. Congratulations. You may make visits of congratulation upon the 'occurrence of any happy or for tunate event in the family of a friend such as a marriage, a birth, or the inheritance of wealth. Such visits should be made in the morning. You should not defer a visit of condolence beyond the next week after a death occurs in a family. Among friends such visits are re garded as an imperative duty, except where contagious diseases render them dangerous. Ladies should make their morning calls in simple toilette, and not in very rich dresses. Gentlemen wear morning dress. In calling upon a person living or staying temporarily at a hotel, wait in the parlor and send up your card. Even intimate friends should observe this rule. Gentlemen may wait in the office or hall of the hotel while the waiter takes up their card. In going abroad, or on a long journey, you should either call in person upon all your friends or send cards, with the initials P. P. C. marked in the corner. These stand for " Pour Prendre Conge, " and mean " To Take Leave. " Some write the English words out in full. Upon returning home your friends must first call upon you. You may with propriety drop the acquaintance of those who neglect to d^> so. CALLS AND VISITS. 43 You should not make a visit of friendship anless you have a formal or a general invita tion. To drop in upon your friends at all times is to render yourself a bore. Never solicit an invitation, either by word or act. Wait until you are asked, and your presence will be doubly welcome. Visits of Friendship. Visits of friendship are conducted by no particular rules of etiquette, as it is to be pre sumed that intimate friends, or relatives, un derstand each other's tastes and peculiarities, and will conduct themselves in a manner mutually agreeable. Such visits may occa sionally be made under misapprehension, be cause there are many people in the world who are extremely fond of visiting and will often persuade themselves that their society is coveted, when in fact they are not partic ularly welcome. Persons of any degree of sagacity can easily distinguish the free and hearty welcome from the polite and easy grace which duty makes imperative. With intimate friends all strict ceremony can be dispensed with, but yet there are cer tain liberties which you may enjoy at home, that are not exactly proper to take in the house of a friend or relative. Criticising the conduct of servants, or children, or the acts of any member of the household, or the do mestic management generally, is in very bad taste, though it may be done with the ut most good nature. No well-bred persons will ever make remarks of any kind upon the habits, faults or foibles of a family where they are paying a visit of friendship ; and to drop these remarks after they have left only shows that they were not deserving the con fidence and attentions they received. In such visits you should strictly apply the rule to do nothing by act, word or deed that may cause a disagreeable feeling on the part of your entertainer ; which rule, as we have before explained, is the fundamental prin ciple of gentility. Avoid all ungraceful or awkward positions and all lounging in making calls. Sit up right at ease, and be graceful and dignified in your manners. Do not handle any of the table ornaments in the room in which you are received. They may be admired but not handled. Eveninar Calls. Where a lady has appointed a certain even ing for receiving calls, it is best to call then, and not at other times. Formal calls may be made in the evening, but never earlier than nine o'clock, and should not be prolonged later than ten o'clock. In making such a call a gentleman should carry his hat, gloves, and cane with him into the parlor and hold them in his hands, unless requested by the hostess to lay them aside and spend the evening. In making an informal evening call a lady may take a gentleman with her. She pre sents him to the hostess, who introduces him to the other guests, if there are any present A gentleman in making an informal evening call may leave his hat, cane, etc., in the hall, and a lady may lay aside her bonnet and wraps. The mistress of the house usually receives the visitors. At evening parties she will be assisted by her husband or some other gen tleman. The reception should be performed in an easy, quiet and self-possessed manner, and without unnecessary ceremony. It is customary in some places to announce the names of guests as they enter the room. The host or hostess may then present them to other guests to whom they may be stran gers. When any one enters the room, whether announced or not, the host or hostess should 44 RULES OF ETIQUETTE FOR ALL OCCASIONS. rise at once, advance toward him, welcome him, and request him to be seated. If it is a young man, offer him an arm-chair, or a stuffed one ; if an elderly man, insist upon his accepting the arm-chair ; if a lady, beg her to be seated upon the sofa. If the master of the house receives the visitors, he will take a chair and place himself at a little distance from them ; if, on the contrary, it is the mis tress, and if she is intimate with the lady who visits her, she will place herself near her. Tokens of Respect. If several ladies come at once, we give the most honorable place to the one who, from age or other considerations is most entitled to respect. In winter the most honorable places are those at the corners of the fire place, if you have a fire in it. If the visitor is a stranger, when the master or mistress of the house rises, any person who may be already in the room should do the same, unless the company is a large one. When any of the company withdraw, the master or mistress of the house should conduct them as far as the door. But whoever the person may be who departs, if we have other com pany, we may dispense with conducting them farther than the door of the room. Upon arriving at a house where you wish to pay an evening call, should you find a small party assembled there, present yourself precisely as though you had been invited. After a short while you may take your leave, explaining that you only intended to make a brief call. A gentleman should not seat himself on the sofa beside his hostess unless invited to do so. It is vulgar to make a display of wealth in calling upon persons in reduced circum stances. New-comers into a neighborhood should not make the first calls. A lady should not call upon a gentlemar unless on business. In making a formal call a gentleman should not sit with his legs crossed. Do not prolong an evening visit. It is apt to become tiresome even to your most inti mate friends. Should your friend have a guest on a visit to her, call as soon as possible. Such calls should be returned without delay. Should you find a lady on the point of going out when you make your call, make it as brief as possible in order to leave her at liberty to carry out her plans. When you have risen to go, do not delay your departure. When you are prevented from attending a dinner party, or social gathering, call upon the person giving it without delay, and ex press your regret for your absence. In the country calls are more prolonged and less formal than in the city. Protracted Visits. With regard to visits of a day or more it is the universal custom in England, and if gradually coming into vogue in this country to invite your friend to visit you for a speci fied length of time. This enables your guest to know that he is not inconveniencing yob by remaining too long, and allows you to make arrangements for the entertainment oi other friends. This is a most sensible cus tom, and cannot be too highly commended In visiting a city where a friend resides it is best to go to a hotel, although you may have a general invitation from your friend to make his house your home. You can make a call upon him as soon as you please, and should he then urge you to accept his hospi tality you may do so with propriety. You should always write to inform even a relative or most intimate friend of your ia- CALLS AND VISITS. 4S tended visit and the probable time of your arrival. You should answer a written invitation to visit a friend, as promptly as possible, and Btate the time when you may be expected. Where no time is specified by your host or hostess as to the duration of your visit, you should not prolong it over a week. A shorter time is better. You should take an early occasion of stating how long you ex pect to remain. Attentions due to Your Host. Conform your habits to those of the family in which you are visiting; give no trouble that can be avoided ; and accept the hospitality offered you heartily and with well-bred grace. You should make arrangements for having your washing done at your own expense in making a long visit Remember, that to ask your hostess to have it done by her servants is to increase their labor, and to render them dissatisfied. A lady visiting in a family should not re ceive the attentions of a gentleman who is objectionable to her host or hostess. Neither should she receive too many calls from gen tlemen. Do not invite a friend who may call upon you to remain to a meal. Such an invitation must come from the host or hostess. A lady should decline an invitation to a dinner or party, which does not include her hostess. A gentleman inviting a lady visit ing in a family to accompany him to a place of amusement, or upon an excursion, should include the younger ladies of the family in his invitation. They may decline or not, accord ing to circumstances. When a friend informs you of his or her intended visit, and the probable time of their arrival, you should have their room ready for their reception. It should be well warmed in cold weather, cooled and aired in summer, and provided with all the ordinary conven iences of the toilette, and any other articles that may minister to the comfort of your guest. Entertaining the Guest. When you expect a lady guest, some male member of the family should meet her at the cars, steamer, or other place of arrival in your city or neighborhood. He should look after her baggage, and make such arrange ments as will enable her to reach your house quickly and with comfort Without breaking up the regular routine of your household or business, you should arrange your affairs so as to devote the most time to your guest. You should arrange re ceptions, entertainments, and excursions of various kinds, if possible, and should always show her the places and things of note in your vicinity. You should do all this unob trusively and make your guest feel that it is a pleasure to you to thus increase her enjoy ment of her visit. Upon the departure of your guest, accom pany him or her to the cars or boat, and remain until the conveyance has begun the journey, taking leave of your guest with cordiality. A true lady or gentleman will always treat with kindness and courtesy the servants of the family in which they may be visiting. In taking leave, you may, if you wish, remem ber them by some gratuity. Do not unduly praise other places at which you may have visited. Your hostess may, think you wish to contrast her establishment!' with the one so praised, to her disadvantage. You may with propriety make simple presents to the children of the family. Costly or lavish gifts place your entertainers under an obligation which they may not be able to 46 RULES OF ETIQUETTE FOR ALL OCCASIONS, return, and therefore would not desire to in cur. Do not outdress the members of the femily in which you are a guest, especially in at tending an entertainment or place of amuse ment with them. Enter heartily into the plans that are made for your entertainment or amusement You should never permit your host or hostess to feel that he or she has disappointed you in their efforts to add to your enjoyment. Upon returning home after a visit, write immediately to your host or hostess, an nouncing your safe arrival ; and be careful to send kind messages to each member of the family, mentioning all by name. Visiting Cards. In the selection of cards great taste should be exercised. The material should be a thin, fine board of paper. The size and shape are regulated by the prevailing fashion. The color should always be pure white. Tinted or colored cards are an abomination. ' A gentleman's card should bear only his name and address. A lady's card should have the word " Mrs." or "Miss" prefixed to her name. . The eldest unmarried daughter of a family should have her card read simply "Miss Newton," not "Miss Lilian Newton." The younger sisters, if unmarried, should have their Christian names on their cards. Professional titles may appear upon the card, as "Thomas Thomas, M. D.," or "Doctor Thomas Thomas," "Rev. Tobias Pounder," or " Rev. Tobias Pounder, D. D. n In England a gentleman without a title pre= fixes "Mr." to his name, as "Mr. Edward Holland. " In the United States this practice varies, but the best etiquette unquestionably demands the prefix "Mr." A card left for you during your illness should be answered by a call as soon as your recovery will permit. Should you send a card to a person who is ill, the bearer should always make a ver bal inquiry as to your friend's condition oi health. The most perfectly tasteful card is an en< graved one. The printed card comes next; then the written card. The fashion as to letters changes, but a plain script or old Eng lish text, well engraved, is always neat and in good taste. In making calls upon an intimate friend it is not necessary to send your card in. The simple announcement of your name is suffi cient. The use of a card always has an air of formality about it Where persons are on cordial terms, and are visiting back and forth frequently, a card can very well be dispensed with. It should be remembered that a card with your address is a very handy way of making known your place of residence. Persons will sometimes want this, and if they have it printed and right before their eyes, there cannot be any mistake about it Always be supplied with cards. CHAPTER VI. Evening Parties. SOCIETY has always had its evening gatherings, sometimes of a private, and sometimes of a public, character. Enough has been said to guard light-headed persons against making fashion the end and aim of life; they do not need to make this the all-absorbing topic of con versation, nor the object toward which all their energies are bent Yet it is true that in all ages, and among all nations, social ob servances and gatherings have occupied an important place. This has always been true of our own country, although it may be said that elab orate entertainments, involving a great amount of dress and expense, have not been so common with us as in older countries. Having no aristocracy of blood or wealth, we form our own aristocracy of education, refinement and good society. To be able to appear well upon social occasions, such as evening balls and parties, is considered an accomplishment, and no one who does not possess it, is entitled to the distinguished consideration of persons who indulge in fashionable pleasures. It is in the party or ball-room that society is on its very best behavior. Everything there is regulated according to the strict iode of good breeding ; and as any departure from this code becomes a grave offence, it is indispensable that the etiquette of the ball room be thoroughly mastered. Balls are of two kinds, public and private. The etiquette of public balls is almost Identical with that of private assemblies of the same kind, and it will be sufficient t& observe here, that those attending them should, if possible, form their own parties beforehand. Ladies, especially, will find the comfort and advantage of this. The rule as to giving private balls or pan ties is this: that ball-goers should make one return during the season. In giving this, you may imitate the vulgas among the higher classes, and have 8. "crush," as it is called ; but it is in far better taste to restrict the number of invitations, so that all the guests may be fairly accom modated. The invitations should, however, be slightly in excess of the number counted on, as it is rare, indeed, that everyone accepts. One-third more than the room will hold may generally be asked with safety. It is desirable to secure the attendance of an equal number of dancers of both sexes ; but experience shows that to do this it is neces sary to invite more gentlemen than ladies. It is the lady of the house who gives & party or ball. The invitations should be in her name, and the replies addressed to her. The invitations may be sent out three weeks before the time; but a fortnight is sufficient ; a less time is not according to et?* quette. Printed forms of invitation may be ol> tained at every stationer's ; but it is better that they should be written. In that case use small note-paper, white, and of the very best quality ; let the envelopes be also thick and good. This form of invitation may be used. It 47 RULES OF ETIQUETTE FOR ALL OCCASIONS, has the merit of brevity and simplicity, two very desirable qualities in an invitation : "THURSDAY, February $th. u Mrs. requests the pleasure of Mr. < 's company at an Evening Party, Thurs day, February 26th. "An answer will oblige. "Dancing." This is the simplest, and, therefore, the most desirable form of invitation. To this an answer should be returned within a day or two, and it may assume the following form, which also has the merit of brevity : "SATURDAY, February jth. " Mr. has much pleasure in accepting Mrs. 's polite invitation for Thursday evening, the 26th inst." Short or verbal invitations should never be given, even among relations and intimate friends ; it is discourteous, as implying that they are of no importance, and is excessively vulgar. It may be mentioned here, that married ladies are usually attended by their hus bands ; but the rule is not necessarily ob served. Unmarried ladies should be accom panied by their mothers, or may be under the care of a chaperon, a married sister, or an elderly lady friend. Attractive Decorations. As to the ball-room: When there is a choice of rooms, one which is light, lofty, and well ventilated, should be selected, if its size and proportions adapt it for dancing pur poses. A square room is better than one which is long and narrow, but a medium be tween these extremes is best. Above all, a ball-room, should be well lighted, and have a gay or exhilarating appearance ; the decora tions should be light, the window curtains of a like description, and flowers and shrubs may be introduced with advantage. A good floor is essential to ttit enjoyment of dancing ; when the carpet is taken up s care should be used that no roughness of sur-^ face is presented. Some ladies have their dancing-floors carefully polished with bees wax and a brush. A crumb-cloth or linen diaper, thoroughly well stretched over a car pet, is the next best thing to a polished floor. The question of music is important If it is a large ball, four musicians is the least number that should be engaged piano, cot- net or flute, violin, and violoncello. IE small assemblies the violin and piano are sufficient When the piano alone is used, however limited the number of guests, the hostess should secure the attendance of a pro- fessional pianist, because the guests ought not to be left to the mercy of those who hap* pen to be present and can be prevailed on to play, while it often happens that those who oblige out of courtesy would prefer taking part in the dance. The place occupied by the orchestra is uiv derstood to be the top of the room, but \\ is not always convenient to adhere strictly to this rule in a private room, but it is gen erally the end farthest from the door. The point should be ascertained by the dancers, as, in quadrilles, the top couples lead off, and uncertainty leads to confusion. The Refreshment I loom. Refreshments must, of course, be provided for the guests during the evening; and, as nothing should be handed round in the ball room, a refreshment room is absolutely neces sary. The refreshment room should, if possible, be on the same floor as the ball-room, be cause it is not only inconvenient, but dan gerous, for ladies heated by the dance to encounter the draught of the staircases, while it is most destructive to their dresses. Provide in the refreshment room, lemon- EVENING PARTIES. 49 atle, tea and coffee, ices, biscuits, wafers, ,?akes and cracker bon-bons. Some persons A'ill also add wine to the list. Supper should be laid in a separate room. What it should comprise must depend entirely on the taste and resources of those who give the ball. To order it in from a good con fectioner is the simplest plan, but is apt to prove somewhat expensive. If provided at home, let it be done on a liberal, but not vulgarly profuse scale. Substantial fare, such as fowls, ham, tongue, turkey, etc., are absolutely necessary. Jellies, blanc-mange, trifle, light-cake, etc., may be added at dis cretion. The French fashion of giving hot soup is coming in, and is very pleasant : the lighter kinds of soup such as Julienne, gravy, and vermicelli are most suitable. Nothing upon the table should require carving; the fowls, pheasants, turkeys and other birds, should be cut up beforehand, and held together by ribbons, which only require severing. Whatever can be iced should be served in that way. A lady should drink very little wine, and certainly not more than one glass of cham pagne ; it also behooves a gentleman to be careful in this respect, as nothing is more odious or contrary to the usages of modern society than any appearance of excess in this particular. The supper-room is opened about mid night, and is not closed till the end of the party. The Dressing- Room. A cloak-room for the ladies must be pro- yided, and one or two maids to receive shawls or cloaks, which they will place so that they may be easy of access, and to render any assistance in the way of arrang ing hair or dress, repairing a torn dress, or any office of that kind. In this room there be several looking-glasses, with a 4 supply of hair-pins, needles, thread, pins, and such articles as may be needed in r, lady's toilette. A hat room for gentlemen must not be forgotten ; and it is best to provide ehecks s both for articles belonging to ladies and gentlemen left in charge of the attendants^ Where checks cannot be had, tickets num bered in duplicate may be used one being given to the lady or gentleman, and the other pinned to the coat or cloak. By this means the property of each guest is identified, and confusion at the time of departure is pre vented. The Lady's Toilette. Fashion is so capricious and so imperative in the matter of dress, that it is difficult to give advice or instruction of permanent value upon the best mode of dressing. Still there are laws by which even fashion is reg ulated and controlled. There are certain principles in dress, approved by good taste and common-sense, which cannot be out< raged with impunity. A lady, in dressing for a ball, has first to consider the delicate question of age ; and next, that of her position, whether married or single. As everything about a ball-room should be light, gay, and the reverse of de pressing, it is permitted to elderly ladies, who do not dance, to assume a lighter and more effective style of dress than would be proper at the dinner-table, concert, or opera. Rich brocades, if not sombre in hue, and a some what profuse display of good jewelry, are permissible. The toilette of the married and unmarried lady, however youthful the former, should be distinctly and tastefully marked. Silk dresses are, as a rule, objectionable for those who dance ; but the married lady may ap pear in a moire of light tint, or even in & white silk, if properly trimmed with tulle and 50 RULES OF ETIQUETTE flowers. Flowers or jewels may be worn in the hair. In some places small feathers are worn. Jewelry should be sparingly dis played. Young unmarried ladies should wear dresses of light material the lighter the better. Tarlatane, gauze, tulle, the finest muslin, lace, and all similar fabrics are avail able. Such dresses should be worn over a silk slip, or under-dress. There is no restriction as to colors, except that they should be chosen with reference to the wearer. Thus a blonde appears to most advantage in delicate hues, such as light blue and pink, mauve, white, and like shades. Arsenic green should be avoided, as injurious to health. The brunette should, on the con trary, select rich and brilliant colors. Flowers are the proper ornaments for the head and dress. The French ladies select them with reference to the season ; but this is not insisted on in this country, and sum mer flowers may be worn at Christmas. I On entering the ball-room, they at once proceed to pay their respects to the lady of the house, and may then acknowledge the presence of such friends as they find around them. At public balls a programme of dancing is ^iven to the guests on their arrival ; and this example should be followed in anything more than a mere " carpet-dance. " The dances should, in any case, be arranged beforehand, and it is convenient and inexpen- iive to have them printed on cards of small and convenient size, the numbered dances on one side, and numbered lines for engagements on the other. A better plan is to have a card folding in the middle, thus giving two pages, with dances on one page, and spaces for en gagements on the opposite one. These shut together, and prevent pencil-marks being rubbed off. A pencil should be attach ;d by a ribbon ; but gentlemen should make fl memorandum always to provide themselves with a small gold or silver pencil-case when going to a ball, so that they may be pre pared to write down engagements. A pretty idea has been sometimes carried out at balls it is that of having the order of dancing printed on small white paper fans, large enough for practical use, one being given to every lady on her arrival. Tin: notion is charming, and the expense not great From eighteen to twenty-one dances is a convenient number to arrange for; suppei causes a convenient break after, say, the twelfth dance, and if, at the end of the ball- list, there is still a desire to prolong the ball, one or two extra dances are easily improvised, A ball should commence with a march, followed by a quadrille, after which a waltz should succeed. Then follow quadrilles and waltzes, including galops, arranged as those having charge of the ball may think best Formerly at public balls a Master of the Ceremonies was considered indispensable; but this custom is almost obsolete, the man- agement of the ball being in the hands of a committee, who are distinguished by rosettes, ribbons in the button-hole. These superin tend the dances, and gentlemen desiring to dance with ladies apply to them for intro ductions. Introductions. In private balls introductions are effected through the lady of the house, or other mem' bers of the family. Where there are daughters, they fitly exert themselves in arranging sets, giving introductions, etc. never dancing themselves until all the other ladies present have partners. No gentleman should ask a lady to dano? with him until he has received an RULES OF ETIQUETTE FOR ALL OCCASIONS. tion to her. This may be given through members of the family giving the ball, or the lady's chaperon, or one intimate friend may ask permission to introduce another. The usual form of asking a lady to dance is: " May I have the pleasure of dancing this quadrille with you?" Where there is great Intimacy: "Will you dance?" may suffice. To accept is easy enough "Thank you," is sufficient; to decline with delicacy, and without giving offence, is more difficult " Thank you: I am engaged," suffices when chat expresses the fact when it does not, and a lady would rather not dance with the gentleman applying to her, she must beg to \ e excused, as politely as possible, and it is in better taste for her not to dance at all in that set The slightest excuse should suffice, as it is angentlemanly to force or press a lady to dance. Attentions to Ladies. Ladies should take especial care not to Accept two partners for the same dance ; nor should a gentleman ask a lady to dance with him more than twice during the same even- hig; if he is intimate with a lady, he may Jance with her three, or even four, times. Do not forget to ask the daughters of the bouse. When a lady has accepted, the gentleman offers her his right arm, and leads her to her place on the floor. A slight knowledge of the figure is suffi cient to enable a gentleman to move through ft quadrille, if he is easy and unembarrassed, e light, floating, diaphanous, ethereal, and calculated to produce a good general effect. A dinner dress must be good in quality ; it should be of silk of the latest make, with an ample train. By way of setting the dress off, rich lace may be worn Brussels, Mech lin, Honiton, Maltese or Cluny; but such light materials as blonde, tulle, areophane, tarlatane, etc., are quite out of place as trim mings. Jewelry of almost any value may be worn at a great dinner diamonds, pearls, eme ralds, rubies, any kind ; but it is not in good taste to wear too much jewelry at any time. As accessories, an opera-cloak, a fan, and A pair of perfectly white and perfectly fitting gloves must not be forgotten. In dressing for an ordinary dinner say a dinner of six or eight, or a dinner at a coun try house the demi-toilette is sufficient The dress should be made with a low body ; but a transparent arrangement of net or mus lin fastening round the throat should be worn over it. This is better than an ordinary high dress. The hair should be so dressed as to be in keeping with the prevailing fashion, and at the same time becoming. Gentlemen's Dress. The theory is that gentlemen dress for dinner in such a manner as to be prepared for any kind of entertainment opera, con cert, theatre, party, meeting, or even ball which they may have occasion to attend during the evening. The dinner or evening dress consists of a black dress-coat, black waistcoat and trousers, white cravat, patent leather boots, and white kid gloves. Jewelry of a more showy description than that worn in an earlier part of the day is permissible. A handsome chain may be worn with a gold watch; a diamond ring is in good taste, and the shirt-studs may be choice, but should be in proportion to the means cf the wearer. It may be as well to remark that dinner parties are not supposed to be given on Sun days, and, therefore, when an invitation is accepted for that day or when, on a visit host and guests dine together it is not necessary to dress; the ladies appearing in high dresses, or the demi-toilette at most; gentlett ^n iu walking-dress. The Dining-room. To secure the success of a dinner, certain arrangements are indispensable. To begin with : it must be given in a comfortable and appropriate room. Where there is a choice of rooms, that selected should be in keeping with the number of the guests. See that it is warm about 68. If, as is now the custom in most of our cities, the dinner be given at a late hour, requiring the room to be lighted, let it be lit so that the light falls on the table. If the room is usually lit by means of gas brackets, over the fire-place or elsewhere, supplant them by moderator- lamps on the table, as nothing is more un comfortable than a light at one's back. The room should be carpeted, if only tha x the servants may move about it withow noise. Table Furnishings. It is not easy to determine on the best shape for a dinner-table. The old oblong table has disadvantages ; the host and hostess are effectually separated, and the same may be said of the guests on either side. Oval tables are now much in vogue, and are com fortable. Round tables also have their advocates ; but, like those which are oblong, they cause the company to break up into knots. Still, for small parties, many prefer them. T*Ve care that the cloth placed upcn it is 58 RULES OF ETIQUETTE radiantly white, the folds showing that it has been recently opened. The same remark will apply to the table napkins. It is customary to place an ornamental stand for a large dish in the middle of the table, and a vase or stand of flowers at inter vals down it. But it is well to see that these objects are not so pretentious as to prevent those dining from having a clear view of those opposite them. The appearance of the table is secondary to the comfort of the guests. Placing the Table-Ware. On the right of the space left for the plate place two knives and a spoon. The present mode is to use silver knives as well as forks tor fish, and in that case this knife is placed j with the others. On the left three forks that for sweets smaller than the others. The glasses are placed on the right. These should be at least four in number. As it is a great breach of decorum, as well as a sign of ignorance, to drink one sort of wine from a glass intended for another, we will describe the glasses commonly in use. The tall glass or that with the shallow, saucer-like top, is for Champagne ; the green for hock, Chablis and similar wines; the large, ample glass for claret and Burgundy ; the round, full- shaped glass for port, and the smaller glass for sherry. This is for the reader's information, yet must not be understood as implying that wines are essential to a high-toned dinner. Some of our very best families, the acknow ledged leaders of fashion, never put Cham pagne nor any kind of wine on their tables. There can be a close adherence to the observ ances of good society without " placing exhil arating compounds " before those whose prin ciples and practices, perhaps, forbid any indulgence in wine drinking, even on "State occasions." FOR ALL OCCASIONS. Each guest will be provided v;ith a table- napkin, which, in laying the table, should occupy the place reserved for the plate. There are many different, many ingenious ways of treating the dinner-napkin. The simplest is to leave it in the folds in which it comes from the laundress. The Dinner,, Respecting the dinner itself, it is impos sible to lay down any fixed rule. That must be governed by the season and the taste of the host We may add that a dinner, however hum ble in its pretensions if only such as a man gives when he asks another to come and "take a chop " with him should never con sist of less than three courses, namely, soup or fish, a joint (which, in a small dinner, may be accompanied by poultry or game) and pastry. Cheese with salad, follows as a mat ter of course. For dessert this provision should be made- each guest will require a silver spoon, fork, and a plate, with a small folded napkin in it. Finger-glasses, containing rose-water, used to be placed on each guest's left hand at dessert ; but it is now the mode for the perfumed water to be taken around in a deep silver dish, each person in turn dipping the corner of his napkin in it, and wetting the fingers and lips. The Attendants. It may be added that the success of a din ner greatly depends on the attendants. It is very desirable that there should be a suffi cient number of servants. Three will be enough for a party of ten or fifteen at cable. They should be previously instructed in their duties, and each should have particular duties assigned, and attend to these only. Each should take charge of one part of the table, and no other,. Thus one looks after the guests on the right from the host to tbe DINNER PARTIES. 59 /nistress, another taking the opposite side of the table, while a third has charge of the sideboard. White collars and gloves should be worn by females ; or if not, care should be taken that the hands and nails are perfectly clean. The servant hands everything at the guest's left hand. Receiving- the Guests. On their arrival, the guests are shown into the drawing-room, which should be well lighted, and in cold weather well warmed. The hostess should be ready in her drawing- room to receive at least by the hour for which dinner is fixed. She should have dressed, have given a glance at the dinner-table to see that all the appointments are correct, looking more especially to the smaller points, which servants are apt to overlook. She should then repair to the drawing-room, occu pying a position there sufficiently near for her to command an uninterrupted view of the door, and not too close, because it is a mark of attention on her part to rise and advance A few steps to receive her guests as they arri ye. Cordiality should mark the reception of tach. I a good houses the guests are received at die house-door by the man-servant, who ascertains the name and announces it at the dravring-room door. In some establishments, wh<;re men-servants are not kept, the females In attendance do this ; but the bawling out of jiames is absurd in small houses, where the: guests are few. It is peculiarly the part of the lady of the h*_>use to entertain the guests as they arrive, d'aring the awkward half -hour preceding dinner. If she is at ease, it is not difficult to introduce the guests to each other, to mdke observations suggesting conversation introducing any topic of the day, or availing f any chance allusion to pictures, articles Qivertu, prints, photographs, or othei objects of interest in the drawing-room, to which, however, it is not well that she should herself direct attention, unless the curiosity of the objects, rather than their value, consti tutes their attraction. During this period the lady quietly "pairs off" her guests, introducing to the gentle men the ladies they will take out to dinner. Dinner Ready. When a butler forms part of the establish ment, he appears at the drawing-room door and announces that dinner is on the table> waiting respectfully as the guests pass out When there is no butler, the announcement is made by the housemaid. Dinner should be announced a few min utes after the arrival of the last guest that dreadful personage whose vulgar disregard ot punctuality has perhaps endangered the suc cess of the repast. It is well to give the servant charged with the duty of announcing the guests a fairly written list of the names to be looked at be forehand, and ticked off as they arrive. This prevents mistakes in names, and has this fur ther advantage, that the dining-room may be lit up, and matters forwarded, as the com pany arrive ; and when all are there, the order to serve may be given, without the master or lady of the house being troubled. When dinner is announced the master of house will offer his arm to the lady to whom he desires to show the greatest respect, and places her on his right hand he generally taking the lower end of the table. The gen tleman on whom has been conferred the honor of escorting the hostess offers her his arm and conducts her to the head of the table, then takes his seat on her left hand. The rest of the company follow and take the seats assigned them by the host or hostess ; these being arranged on the old-fashioned RULES OF ETIQUETTE FOR ALL OCCASIONS. plan, according to precedence married ladies taking the lead of unmarried. But as this precedence question involves endless difficul ties and unpleasantness, when one gets be yond the broad distinctions of ta:?k, profes sion, and so forth, the good taste of the present day has suggested an innovation which is being widely followed. It is taken for granted that every place at a friend's table is equally a place of honor and equally agree able, so that, in the best circles, it is becom ing the custom for the guests to sit in the order in which they enter the room, even the lady of the house resigning her place of honor and taking any seat that offers. A little care should, however, be taken that a judicious distribution of the guests, accord ing to their tastes, accomplishments terms of intimacy, etc., is secured. L,adies sit on the right of gentlemen. As soon as seated all the guests remove their gloves, and taking the napkins from the table, open them and spread them on the knees. The napkin is not to be tucked into the waistcoat or pinned on to the front of the dress. It will usually contain a roll ; that is placed on the left side of the plate. These preliminaries arranged, each gentle man converses with the lady he has brought down until the dinner begins, The Various Courses. Soup is always first served one ladle to each plate. Eat it from the side of your spoon. Do not take it too hot; and do not ask twice for it, or dip up the last spoonfuls, or tilt your plate to get at it Fish follows soup. At the best tables you will find a silver fish-knife as well as fork ; if not, eat with a fork in the right hand and a small piece of bread in the left. Never Spit the bones out into the plate, or touch ihem with your fingers; use a corner of your napkin to convey them to the side oi your plate. When there are two kinds of fish, the larger one say the turbot is placed before the host ; the lady taking that which is less; calculated to fatigue in the helping. When fish sauce is handed, put it on the side oi your plate. By the way, endeavor to learr* the sauces appropriate to the different kind- of fish as lobster sauce with turbot, shrimp or caper with salmon, oyster with cod, and: so on. The entrees follow: They are, for the most part, served in covered silver side-dishes, It is not customary to do more than taste one, or, at the most, two of these. They consist of sweetbreads, pates, cutlets, and made-dishes generally, and over-indulgence in them is apt to unfit one for enjoying the rest of the dinner, while it is not very good for digestion. Eat, such a* can be eaten that way, with a fork. Roast Meats. The roast meats are placed about the table in this way : the largest and most import ant, say haunch of venison, before the host ; one before the lady of the house, and such dishes as tongue or ham before particular guests, occupying seats at points where carv ing-knives and forks will be found ready placed. It is proper to proceed to carve what is put before you for that purpose without hesita tion or demur. Carving is a most important accomplishment, and one that should be ac quired by every gentleman. A man should be able to carve a joint or a bird easily, dex terously, without exertion, and with infinite neatness. But facility is only to be acquired by practice. You will see an unpracticed man stand up and labor at a joint or a birdj while another will quietly dispose of it wjth< DINNER PARTIES. cmt effort or difficulty. Tact lias something to do with it ; practice more. We need hardly say that both knife and fork are used for meat and poultry, and like wise for game ; but under no possible circum stances is the knife to be put in or near the uiouth. Do not begin to eat meat until you have all the accessories the vegetables, the gravy, and, in the case of venison or mutton, the cur rant jelly. Do not load your plate with different, kinds of vegetables. Eat them with a fork. Do not take a spoon for peas, it is unnecessary, ft is best for both gentlemen and ladies to fiat asparagus with the knife and fork, cutting off the heads. In England gentlemen eat as paragus by taking the stalk in their fingers. Ladies never do. Game and Dessert. Game follows. It is often put on with the sweets, in which case the principal dish of game is placed before the gentleman, and the pudding or tart before the lady of the house. Minor dishes are arrayed at the sides. It is very necessary for a gentleman to have a knowledge of the way in which 'aare, pheasant, partridge, teal, snipe, and small birds generally, are carved and helped. A knife is used in eating all of them. Cheese concludes the dinner. As a rule, only the gentlemen eating it, the ladies de clining to do so. It is eaten with a fork. Rusks, or pulled bread, as it is called, should be handed round with it. These may be taken, and also broken, with the fingers, as bread is done. When the servants have placed the dessert on the table, and have handed the fruit and sweets once round, they retire. The gentlemen then devote themselves to Jhe ladies, and see that they want for nothing. They select the choicest fruits from those at hand. Should a lady take a pear, an apple, or an orange, the gentleman next her prepares it, using a silver knife and fork, and never touching it with the fingers. In the same way, should she take walnuts or nuts of any kind, he will crack them for her. There will be plenty of time for him to have his own dessert when the ladies have returned to the drawing-room. Retiring from the Table. Then the hostess bows to the lady of most distinction present, and all the ladies rise and prepare to retire. The gentleman nearest the door opens it, and holds it open for them. The hostess is the last to go out. While they are going all the gentlemen rise, and remain standing until they are gone. It would not, however, be a violation of eti quette for the gentlemen to accompany the ladies to the drawing-room at once. j Tea and coffee are dispensed by the lady of the liouse in the drawing-room. This is her special province. It should be accompanied by a few wafers ; a plate of very thin rolled bread-and-butter, and a few biscuits of the lightest description may be added. One cup of tea or coffee only should be taken ; and we need hardly say that it must not be poured into the saucer to cool. It will be handed round the room by the servants. In the drawing-room there should be a little music to give relief to the conversa tion. At a plain family dinner, at which one or two guests are present, more devolves on the host and hostess, and less on the servants. However quiet and unpretending the party s a lady must never help herself to anything, even if it is immediately before her. And she must studiously refrain from offering to hand anything 10 others ; that is a signal proof cf ill-breeding. RULES OF ETIQUETTE FOR ALL OCCASIONS. Nothing should be suffered to disturb the general composure at the dinner-table. Maintain Self-Possession. Accidents will happen ; wine will be spilt, and glass and china broken ; but these things should neither bring a frown to the face of the hostess, nor be suffered to embarrass the unlucky guest The highest compliment ever paid to a lady, as expressive of her es sentially lady-like qualities, was that she Was " Mistress of herself, though china fall." Let us ad:! a few general hints. Chew with your mouth shut. Cut the food into small pieces, and when a spoon is raised to the mouth see that it is not so mil as to re quire an effort to swallow its contents. Never drink with the mouth full ; it may lead to choking, which is unpardonable. The same rule applies to talking. Gentlemen wearing beard or moustache should be careful to use the table-napkin repeatedly, so that no particle of food, or drop of wine or gravy, be left adher ing to the hair in an offensive way. Do not put your hands on the table, or play with your bread, or examine the plate with an in quisitive glance. In taking sauces, be care- fill not to try to secure all the oysters, shrimps, etc.; and so, in taking salad, do not appro priate all the lobster, or whatever may give a character to it, or take an undue quantity of the dressing. In eating plum or cherry tarts, convey the stones from your mouth to the plate with your fork. Avoid taking dishes quite un known to you, lest you should not like them, and be obliged to express your distaste either by your face OT in some more offensive manner. Never offer to pass a plate that has been handed to you. Do not speak to serv ants imperiously or in an offensive manner. It is the part of the host to promote genial, pleasant feeling, to see that every one is prop erly attended to, and that his friends lao nothing that may tend to their comfort. O* the other hand, the guests are bound to pro mote the general amusement, which is tht object of their meeting, not by individual attempts at brilliancy for the desire to shim- is fatal but by stimulating conversation, contributing to it without absorbing it, and so helping to promote geniality, good humor and genuine enjoyment General Hints. You should sit at a convenient distanc*. from the table, and sit upright. Do not lean back, or tilt your chair, or stoop forward towards the table. When grace is said at the table, observe the most respectful attention, reverently in clining the hea'l. Do not be impatient to be served. Should you need anything at the hands of the serv ants, do not order them to serve you, but re quest them politely, in a low, distinct tone, adding, " if you please." In declining a viand offered by them, say, " Not any, I thank you," etc. Do not pick your teeth at table, or put your hand over or in your mouth. Do not hesitate to take the last piece of bread or cake in a dish handed to you. Your host has more for other guests. When a plate containing food is handed to you, set it down before you, and do not pass it to your neigh bor. Do not thrust your feet far enough under the table to touch the feet of persons opposite you. Tea or coffee should be drunk from the cup, and not poured into the saucer. Do not set your cup on the table-cloth, as it will soil it. In passing your cup to your hostess or the waiter, remove the spoon, and lay it in the saucer, beside the cup. Always act simply and easily, as if you were accustomed tc doing tilings properly. CHAPTER VIIL Etiquette to be Observed at Weddings. 'HE first great question is, " When shall the wedding take place?" In Europe the favorite months for weddings are, generally speaking, June, July and August. There is some unaccountable prejudice against the month of May. Easter week is a very popular time for marriages. Wednesday or Thursday is considered the best day indeed, any day but Friday, which is considered unlucky. In this country all seasons are regarded as suitable, except that Lent is considered an inappropriate time, and Friday shares the prejudice entertained towards it in Europe. It is the privilege of the lady to appoint the time for the wedding, and the gentleman should leave her unfettered in this, except yyr very important reasons. The season of the wedding day may be gov> erned, to a certain extent, by the place where the honeymoon is intended to be passed ; and by the same rule, the honeymoon is fre quently governed by the season at which a wedding is obliged to take place. Marriage is regulated in this country by the laws of the various States of the Union. Some of these require a license from the county court, or circuit court of the city in which the marriage is to take place. This license must be procured by the intended husband, and he must be accompanied by a near relative of the lady her father or guardian is the proper person who must make oath that she can lawfully contract the proposed marriage, and answer any ques tions that may be asked. The bridal trousseau does not include plate, glass, china, furniture, though we have seem these articles mentioned as belonging thereto in a book professing to be an authority on the subject. It comprises simply the bride's stock of attire, which is to last her for the first few years of her wedded life. She should be careful, however wealthy she may be, not to have too great a quantity of wearing ap* parel ; for the changes of fashion are so fre quent that it is just possible the make of many of her garments may be quite gone by before she has had time to wear them. It is impossible to give an accurate state ment of the cost of a trousseau, for that is a matter that must be governed by the means and taste of the bride. Gifts for the Happy Pair. Presents to the bride and bridegroom-elect should be sent in during the week previous to the wedding not later than two full days before the event. It is so customary now to make an exhibition of the presents the day before, or the day of the wedding, that it is more than ever necessary that they should arrive in good time. They should be in accordance with thfc means, and in harmony with the tastes of the recipients. Nothing is in worse taste than to send some gorgeous ornament for a house where it will be out of keeping with all the rest of its belongings, and only serve fora monu ment of the vulgar ostentation of its donor. We happen to know of an instance of a mosfr elaborate and ornamentally decorated jewel- box, which was presented to a young bride s who was very blooming and very lovely, bull had not a diamond to bless herself with. 6 4 RULES OF ETIQUETTE FOR ALL OCCASIONS. If people do not know what to send, or what the young couple require, they should ask ; for nothing is more annoying than to give or receive duplicate presents. We have known instances of five butter-knives, three soup-ladles, and a couple of tea-urns being presented to a young couple just starting in life. It is customary for the gentleman to make his bride a present of jewelry to be worn at her wedding, where his means will permit him to do so. Flowers. The bride's bouquet should be composed exclusively of white flowers, such as gard enias, white azaleas, or camellias, with a little orange blossom intertwined. It is the privilege of the groomsman to procure and present this to the bride. It is generally considered a delicate atten tion on the part of the bridegroom to present a bouquet to his future mother-in-law. This may be composed of choice variously colored flowers, whilst those of the bridesmaids which are, of course, provided by the parents of the bride should be white, with an- edg ing of pale blush roses. To save trouble and anxiety with regard to bouquets, it is the best plan to order them from some practical florist. He will know exactly what to send, and will deliver them fresh on the day of the marriage. The Bridesmaids. The bridesmaids are usually selected from among the sisters of the bride, her cousins, or friends. The head-bridesmaid is generally supposed to be her dearest and most intimate friend. Occasionally the sisters of the bride groom are asked to assist as bridesmaids, but it should be borne in mind that the bride's own sisters always take the precedence. The number of the bridesmaids, of course, wist be governed by circumstances. Six is a good number, though eight and twelve are frequent Recollect, an even numbej should be always selected. The dress of the bridesmaids is usually of some light white material, such as tulle, or tar- latane trimmed with some gay color of a light hue. They frequently wear wreaths and veils, but of course of a more light and less costly character than that of the bride. It is not unusual for half to adopt one kind oi trimming to their dress, and the rest that of a different hue ; but it is more strictly eti quette for ail of them to be dressed alike. In this country the bridesmaids either pro vide their own dresses or may accept them from the biide, The Groomsmen. The number of groomsmen must corres pond to that of the bridesmaids. These gen tlemen have mostly nothing to do but to make themselves agreeable and dress well, except the first or principal groomsman, who is charged by the bridegroom with the man agement of the whole affair, and should be furnished by him with money to pay all the expenses. Where a ring is used he should take charge of it, and present it to the bridegroom at the proper moment He must hand the minis ter his fee, and pay the sexton and other per sons entitled V* payment their legitimate charges. It is his duty to undertake all the arrange ments for his friend on the eventful day, and to see that they are all properly carried out The dress of the groomsmen should be similar to that of the bridegroom, the only difference being that their costume say in the matter of gloves, scarfs and trousers v should be a shade darker in tone than his. We have seen weddings where all the groomsmen were attired precisely alike, biitt WAITING FOR THE MINISTEP The Bridegroom. BEFORE THE WEDDING. The Bride. ETIQUETTE OF WEDDINGS AMlJ FUNERALS. gentlemen's dress even more monotonous than it usually is on these occasions. The Bride. The bride should retire to rest early on the evening preceding the wedding, although the ceremony may not take place until the next evening. She should avoid all fatigue and excitement, and endeavor to look as fresh and blooming as possible on the all-import- occasion. The bride generally takes breakfast in her own room, and remains there until the hour arrives for her to resign herself to the hands of her maidens to be dressed for the altar. It is the bridesmaidens' privilege to perform this service. After she is dressed she remains in her room till her carriage is announced, or, where the wedding is at the house, until it is time for her to descend to the drawing-room. The bride's carriage is invariably the last to teave the house, and it contains but one occupant besides herself namely, her father w the person who is to give her away. With regard to the dress of the bride, it is xrtmply impossible to lay down a rule. It is governed by the fashion of the day, but is always ^hite for a maiden, and of light colors for a widow contracting a second marriage. According to the present fashion, the attire of the former is that of a white moire antique dress, with a very long train, or a plain white silk, with a lace skirt over it ; wreath of orange blossoms, and Honiton lace veil, descending almost to the ground. Of course the gloves should be white, and the shoes or boots of white kid, or white satin, as the case may be. It is customary for the bride to make some little present to the bridesmaids on the wed ding morn. These should generally consist of some trifling article of jewelry not too costly for it should be borne in mind that the gift should be valued rather as a memento 5 of the occasion it commemorates than for its own intrinsic worth. Should the bride reside in another city or part of the country, the bridegroom, and such of his groomsmen as are to accompany him, should reach the place the day before the ceremony. They may dine at the house of the bride's parents ; but it is not etiquette for them to sleep there, even though invited to do so. They should take up their quar ters at a hotel, or with some friend who has asked them to do so. The bridegroom ought not see his bride on the happy day until he takes his place by her side for the final cere mony. The Bridegroom. It is the custom in this country for the bridegroom and his groomsmen to wear full evening dress. This has been described. The English custom of being married in morning dress is rapidly coming into favor in refined society. In the latter case, the dress of the bride groom should be a blue frock or morning coat never a black one very light trousers and tie, and white gloves. He may also wear a small sprig of orange blossom, or some small white flower, in his button-hole. Boots may be of shining patent leather or cf kid. It is customary for him to make some lit tle present to his best man say a choice scarf-pin or a signet-ring both as a memento of the day and a slight acknowledgment of his valuable services on the occasion. He may also make a similar but less expensive present to each of his groomsmen. He is not bound to do so, however. The bridegroom should be careful to see that all his arrangements are made before hand, especially if the wedding is to be fol lowed by a bridal tour. Tickets should be purchased beforehand, places reserved in par lor cars and baggage checked, or had iiv 66 RULES OF ETIQUETTE FOR ALL OCCASIONS. readiness for instant use. To be obliged at the last moment to stop and attend to these matters is very annoying, and also prevents the bridegroom from looking after the com fort of his bride as he should, and takes him out of the society of his friends who are assembled to see him off, at the very time he should be on the spot to receive their parting wishes. Besides, these delays at this time may be the cause of the bridal party losing the train or boat, which would be a most awkward mishap in a wedding journey. The Marriage Ceremony. Marriage by a magistrate is perfectly law ful. Most persons prefer to be married by a clergyman, and in church. The bridegroom must send a carriage at his own expense for the officiating clergy man and his family. The bride's parents provide the carriages for themselves and the bride. Either the bridegroom or the groomsmen may bear the cost of the carriages for the bridesmaids and groomsmen. If the wedding is in church, ushers, se lected by the friends of the bride and groom, should be appointed to show the guests to seats. They should be designated by a white rosette worn on the left lappel of the coat. The front pews in the church should be reserved for the families and especial friends of the happy pair. These are generally sep arated from the others by a white ribbon drawn across the aisle. The clergyman is expected to be at his place within the chancel rail at the appointed hour. Upon the arrival of the bridal party, the ushers will meet them in a body at the door, and precede them up the principal aisle of the church. Upon reaching the altar they will separate to the right and left, and take their places in the rear of the bridal party. Upon the entrance of the bridal party within the doors of the church, the organist will play a "Wedding March," and as they take their places at the altar will change this to some low, subdued, but sweet and appropriate melody, which he should con tinue with taste and feeling throughout the service. As the bridal party leave the church, the music should be loud and jubi lant. The bridal party should form in the vesti. bule of the church. The first groomsman gives his arm to the principal bridesmaid, and these are followed by the others in their proper order. Then comes the bridegroom with the mother of the bride on his arm; and last of all the bride, leaning upon her father's arm. At the altar the bride takes her place upon the left of the groom ; her father stands a little in advance of the rest, behind the couple ; her mother just in the rear of her father. The bridesmaids group themselves on the left of the bride; the groomsmen on the right of the bridegroom, all in the rear of the principals. The Ring. Where a ring is used, the first bridesmaid removes the glove of the bride. The Eng lish very sensibly cause the bride and groom to remove their gloves before the commence ment of the ceremony. This saves an awk ward pause. The responses of the bride and groom should be given clearly and distinctly, but not in too loud a tone. As the English custom, respecting wed* dings, is being generally adopted by the best society of this country, it is well to give a description of it here. The Wedding Tour. The wedding tour should be definitely ar ranged before the marriage, and the tickets purchased before the ceremony, so that there ETIQUETTE OF WEDDINGS AND FUNERALS. may t>e no delay or confusion upon the ar rival of the bridal party at the depot. The bride's wishes must govern the tour in everything. Arrange your movements so that they will be leisurely. Avoid haste and bustle, and so double the pleasure of your journey. It is well to select your hotel at the places you intend to stop, and telegraph ahead for rooms. It is best that the young couple should make the wedding tour unaccompanied by any of their friends. It relieves them of embarrassment, and enables them to devote themselves entirely to each other. Upon such occasions a third person is decidedly out of place, and is sure to feel so. Sending Cards. In some circles the young couple send out cards with their wedding invitations, stating the day and hour they will receive callers after their return from their wedding tour. No one who has not received such a card should call upon a newly married couple. Such cards should be as simple and unosten tatious as possible. Where they are sent out the wedding journey must be terminated in time to allow the new couple to be at home at the hour indicated for the reception of their visitors. Visitors should call punctually at the time appointed. In some places it is customary *9 offer the guests wedding-cake and wine. It is customary for the mother, sister, or some intimate friend of the bride, to assist her in receiving these calls. This rule is imperative. Wedding calls must be returned within a week. What to Do at Funerals. The great sorrow brought upon a family by the death of a loved one renders the im mediate members of the family incapable of } attending to the necessary arrangements frw the funeral. The services of an intimate friend, or a relative, should, therefore, be sought. He should receive geneial instruc tions from the family, after which he should take entire charge of the arrangements, and relieve them from all care on the suoject. If such a person cannot be had, the arrange ments may be placed in the hands of the sexton of the church the deceased attended in life, or of some responsible undertaker. The expenses of the funeral should be in accordance with the means of the family. No false pride should permit the relatives to incur undue expense in order to make a showy funeral. At the same time, affection will dictate that all the marks of respect which you can provide should be paid to the memory of your beloved dead, thus affording evidence of sincere grief at your loss. In some parts of the country it is custom ary to send notes of invitation to the funera? to the friends of the deceased and of tha family. These invitations should be printed, neatly and simply, on mourning paper, with envelopes to match, and should be delivered by a private messenger. The following is a correct form, the names and dates to be be changed to suit the occasion : "Yourself and family are respectfully in- vited to attend the funeral of James Hill- house, on Wednesday, the 4th instant, at 3 o'clock, P. M., from his late residence, 375 Beacon Street, to proceed to Mount Vernon Cemetery." Where the funeral is from a church, the invitation should read : "Yourself and family are respectfully in vited to attend the funeral of James Hill- house, from the Church of the Holy Trinity, on Wednesday, the 4th instant, at 2 o'clock, P. M., to proceed to Mount Vernon Ceme tery " RULES OF ETIQUETTE FOR ALL OCCASIONS. Where such invitations are sent, a list of rersons so invited must be given to the per son in charge of the funeral, in order that he may provide a sufficient number of car nages. No one to whom an invitation has not been sent should attend such a funeral, nor ohould those invited permit anything but an important duty to prevent their at tendance. When the funeral is at the house, some near relative or intimate friend should act as usher, and show the company to their seats. Preserve a decorous silence in the chamber of death speak as little as possible, and then only in low, subdued tones. The members of the family are not obliged to recognize ther acquaintances. The latter show their sympathy by their presence and considerate silence. As the casket is borne from the house to the hearse, gentlemen who may be standing at the door or in the street remove theii hats, and remain uncovered until it is placed in the hearse. The pall-bearers should be chosen from among the intimate friends of the deceased, and should correspond to him in age and general character. With regard to sending flowers, the wishes of the family should be considered. If you are uncertain upon this point, it is safe to send them. They should be simple and tasteful, also in keeping 1 with the age of tht person who has been removed by death. CHAPTER IX. How to Converse Well. your opinion differs from that of others, maintain it with modesty, calmness, and gentleness ; but never be eager, loud, or clamorous ; and, when you find your antagonist beginning to grow warm, put an end to the dispute by some genteel stroke of humor. For, take it for granted, if the two best friends in the world dispute with eagerness upon the most trifling subject imaginable, they will, for the time, find a momentary alienation from each other. Dis putes upon any subject are a sort of trial of the understanding, and must end in the mor tification of one or other of the disputants. On the other hand, you need not give a universal assent to all that you hear said in company; such an assent would be mean, and in some cases criminal ; but blame with indulgence, and correct with gentleness. Have a mind of your own ; do not compel any one to say to you, "Do, please, differ from me, just to show that there are two of us." Always look people in the face when you Speak to them ; not doing it is thought to imply conscious guilt ; besides that, you lose the advantage of observing by their counte nances, what impression your discourse makes upon them. When you find your temper rising, resolve neither to speak to, nor answer the person who excites it ; but stay till you find it sub siding, and then speak deliberately. En deavor to be cool and steady upon all occa sions; the advantages of such a steady calmness are innummerable, and would be ^edious to relate^ It may be acquired by care and reflection; if it could not, that reason which distinguishes men from brutes would be given us to very little purpose. You scarcely ever heard of a Quaker in a passion. There is in that sect a decorum and decency, and an amiable simplicity known in no other. Witticisms at the Expense of Others. If you have wit (which I am not sure that I wish you, unless you have at the same time an equal portion of judgment to keep it in good order), wear it like a sword in the scabbard, and do not brandish it to the terror of the whole company. Wit is a shining quality, that everybody admires; most people aim at it, all people fear it, and few love it, unless in themselves. A man must have a good share of wit himself, to endure a great share in another. When wit exerts itself in satire, it is a most malignant distemper ; wit, it is true, may be shown in satire, but satire does not constitute wit, as many imagine. A man of wit ought to find a thousand better occasions of showing it- Abstain, therefore, most carefully from satire ; which, though it fall on no particular person in the company, and momentarily, from the malignancy of the human heart, pleases all ; yet, upon reflection, it frightens all. Every one thinks it may be his turn next ; and will hate you for what he finds you could say of him, more than be obliged to you for what you do not say. Fear and hatred are next-door neighbors; the more wit you have, the more good-nature and politeness you must show, to induce pcopU RULES OF ETIQUETTE FOR ALL OCCASIONS. to pardon your superiority; for that is no easy mattei. Appear to have rather less than more wit than you really have. A wise man will live at least as much within his wit as his income. Content yourself with good sense and reason, which at the long run are ever sure to please everybody who has either; if wit comes mto the bargain, welcome it, but never invite it Bear this truth always in your iniud, that you may be admired for your wit, if you have any ; but that nothing but good sense and good qualities can make you be beloved. These are substantial every day's wear ; whereas, wit is a holiday suit, which people put on chiefly to be stared at Avoid Raillery. There is a species of minor wit, which is much used, and much more abused ; I mean rai ifc ery. It is a most mischievous and danger- r ts weapon when in unskillful and clumsy lands ; and it is much safer to let it quite alone than to play with it ; and yet almost everybody plays with it, though they see daily the quarrels and heart-burnings that it occasions. The injustice of a bad man is sooner for given than the insults of a witty one; the former only hurts one's liberty and property ; but the latter hurts and mortifies that secret pride which no human breast is free from. True, there is a sort of raillery which may not only be inoffensive, but even flattering ; as when, by a genteel irony, you accuse people of those imperfections which they are most notoriously free from, and consequently insinuate that they possess the contrary virtues. You may safely call Aristides a knave, or a very handsome woman an ugly one. Take care, however, that neither the man's char acter, nor the lady's beauty, be in the least doubtful. But this sort of raillery requires a very light and steady hand to administer it A little too strong, it may be mistakei? into an offence ; and a little too smooth, it may be thought a sneer, which is a most odious thing. You Can be Agreeable if not Brilliant. It is not given to every man to be a brilliant talker, or to express himself in writing with elegance or force. There is, however, no reason why any person who goes into society should be ignorant of the rules of polite in tercourse, or fail to master all the customary forms of address. It is almost useless to say that your con versation should be adapted to your com pany: that is, nevertheless, the golden rule on this subject Avoid politics and religion, and all topics likely to excite argument, or to lead to warmth of feeling or expression. Talk of yourself and your own affairs as little as possible. Those of the personages you are addressing are sure to interest them far more. Above all, never drag in the names of distinguished persons to whom, you may be related or who may be num bered among your friends : nothing is more vulgar or offensive. To speak of your own exploits, or to give illustrations of your own prowess and sagacity, is also offensive. Restrain any desire to shine, and be most particular not to monopolize the conversa tion. It is presumptuous in one person to attempt to lead the conversation, much more to monopolize it Offensive Flattery. Avoid whatever is personal in tone or allu sion; neither flatter nor make observations of an offensive character; do not even indulge in joking unless with friends, who will not be likely to put a false construction on your words, or to take in earnest what you mean in sport Do not speak in a loud voice, or assume a HOW TO CONVERSE WELL. dictatorial manner. If any statement is made which you know to be incorrect or untrue, be very careful of the manner in which you correct the speaker. Never charge him with having made a willful mis- statement ; suggest a correction, rather than make it; and if the point in question is immaterial it is best to let it pass unnoticed. [f addressed in an offensive tone, or if an objectionable manner is adopted towards you, it is best not to notice it; and even when you perceive an intention to annoy or insult, either pass it over for the time, or take an opportunity of withdrawing. Such a thing as a "scene" is, above all things, to be avoided. Talk Plain English. Do not interlard your conversation with French and other languages. If you are tempted into a quotation from a foreign or classic language apologize to the company for its use, or translate it ; but not in such a manner as to convey the idea that you are glad to display your learning, or that your hearers are in need of such translation. Puns and slang terms are to be avoided as much as possible. And remember there are various kinds of slang : there is the slang of the drawing-room as will as that of the lower classes, or of out-door life. Every profession has its own technical terms and set of ex pressions, which should be avoided in general society. Should a person enter the room in whicli you are conversing, and the conversation be continued after his arrival, it is only courteous to acquaint him with the nature of the sub ject to which it relates, and to give him an 'idea of what has passed. In conversing with either superiors or equals do not address them by name. If they are persons of rank or title, do not say, 44 Yes, Colonel," "No, Governor," "Of course, Mr. President ; " thougli you may occasion ally make use of some such a phrase as, "You will perceive, Colonel," "You will , understand, Governor." Avoid the too fre quent use of " Sir," or " Madam," aud beware of addressing a comparative acquaintance as " My dear sir," or " My dear madam." In speaking of third persons always use the prefix " Mr." or " Mrs." to their names ; do not refer to them by their initials, as Mr. or Mrs. B. Never allude to any one as a " party '* or a " gent " ; and, above all, refrain from any of the vulgarisms to which some persons have recourse when they cannot recollect the name of a person, place, or thing. Can anything be more inelegant or atrocious than such a sentence as this? " Oh, Jones, I met what's-his-name driving that what-is-it of his, down by the you know close to what you-call-'im's house." Yet this kind of re mark is heard every day. Short Answers. Never give short or sharp answers in ordi nary conversation. To do so is simply rude, " I do not know," or " I cannot tell," are the most harmless words possible, and yet they may be rendered very offensive by the tone and manner in which they are pro nounced. Never reply in answer to a ques tion like the following, 4< Did Mrs. Grundy tell you how Miss Clifton's marriage was get ting on ? " " I did not ask." It is almost like saying, I never ask impertinent ques tions, though you do; we learn plenty of things in the world without having firsi in quired about them. If you must say, you did not ask, say, that " you forgot to ask," "neglected it," or "did not think of it'* We can always be ordinarily civil, even if we cannot always be absolutely wise. Express yourself simply and Clearly Avoid all attempts at elegance or pompoMtv Use the shortest and plainest words von should fall into so gross an error, as to use the first person at the conclusion of a note which has been commenced in the third; and yet this is sometimes the case. For example: "Miss Johnson presents her com pliments to Mr. Brooks, and begs to be in formed at what hour Mr. Brooks intends to start for Philadelphia to-morrow, as I particu larly wish to see him before his departure : and remain, sir, yours sincerely," etc. Such negligence and inelegance are so obvious, that they may be easily avoided. Notes written in the third person, are frequently rendered ambiguous, and some times quite unintelligible, by a confusion of the personal pronouns; which, unless the sentences be carefully constructed, seem to apply equally well to the writer as to the receiver. There is a French anecdote re lated, of a rather ludicrous mistake arising from the ambiguity of a letter written by one friend to another, in the third person. Monsieur A. addressed Monsieur B. who dwelt at some distance from the town where Monsieur A. resided, in these terms : "Monsieur A. presents his compliments to his friend, Monsieur B., and has the satis faction of informing him, that he has just been appointed, by government, to the luc rative and honorable post of, etc, [naming the office], in his native town." Go receipfe ETIQUETTE OF CORRESPONDENCE. 77 of this letter, B. posted, with all possible speed, to throw himself at the feet of A., and, with the warmest expressions of grati tude, thanked his supposed benefactor. A. was amazed, and earnestly inquired the cause of B.'s raptures. "How!" exclaimed B., 'have I not sufficient reason to be grateful? Have you not obtained for me the important post of so and so?" "Not at all, my dear friend," replied A., "it is /who have been appointed to the office; and I wrote to acquaint you of the circumstance, thinking you would be happy to hear of your old companion's excellent fortune." B. perused the note again, and discovered that, like one of the ancient oracles, it contained two mean ings which were directly opposite to each other. Notes written in the third person, arc fre quently used, on ordinary occasions, between equals in age or rank, to make a reply to any request ; to convey civil inquiries, or compli ments, etc. For these and similar purposes, this form is elegant and unexceptionable. Manner of Replying to Letters. Every letter, that is not insulting, merits a reply, if it be required or necessary. All the preceding observations, with regard to rank, age, etc., are, of course, applicable to replies. If the letter contains a request, accede to it gracefully, and without ostenta tion, or refuse without harshness. An answer to a letter of condolence, or congratulation, should be grateful. The subjects should succeed each other in proper order ; and the questions put, be consecutively answered. In familiar correspondence, a greater latitude of arrangement is allowed ; but even in this, no question should be left unanswered. In all replies, it is usual to acknowledge the receipt, and to mention the date, of the last letter received : this should be an invariable rule ; by neglecting it, your correspondent may be left in doubt; or very properly deem you guilty of offensive inattention. Correct Punctuation. Punctuation is a matter of the utmost importance in every species of literary com position ; it has been properly termed, the very marshalling and arranging of the words of a language ; without it, there can be no clearness, strength, or accuracy. Its utility consists in separating the different portions of what is written, in such a manner that the subjects may be properly classed and subdivided, so as to convey the precise mean ing of the writer to the reader ; to show the relation which the various parts bear to each other; to unite such as ought to be con nected, and keep apart such as have no mutual dependence. It is a circumstance very much to be lamented, that so little attention is paid to punctuation. As there is no positive system of punctuation to direct the writer, the modern editions of good authors should be carefully studied, in order to acquire the leading principles of the science. The con* struction of sentences may be examined, and the mode adopted of dividing them, attended to with considerable advantage. It is a good plan, for improvement in pointing, to copy a page of some standard work, without capi tals or points ; and, after it has been laid aside for a few days, to endeavor to write it again with the proper points ; by a subse quent comparison with the original, the writer may discover his errors, and guard against similar blunders in his future exer cises. It is not to be expected that he will attain, by these, or any other means, the power of pointing a page, in complete ac cordance with a printed work ; but he will, no doubt, acquire a degree of knowledge and experience in punctuation, which cannot RULES OF ETIQUETTE FOR ALL OCCASIONS. fail to be of considerable utility to him in his future epistolary productions. In order to show the necessity of not merely using points, but punctuating prop erly, the following passage from a work on this subject, in which it is given as a study, but without any key, is submitted to the reader : " The persons inside the coach were Mr. lyink a clergyman his son a lawyer Mr. Boscat a foreigner his lady and a little child." As this passage stands, without points, it is unintelligible: by different modes of punctuating it, several alterations may be made in its sense ; not only as to the number of persons in the coach, but, also, as to their country, professions and relationship to each other. By a change of points, the lady may be described as the wife of either one of two persons; Mr. Link's son may be made a clergyman or a lawyer, at will; or his son may be taken from him and given to a clergyman, whose name is not mentioned. We shall give three or four different modes of punctuating this passage. The reader may, if he think fit, amuse, and, at the same time, convince himself of the propriety of attending to the proper use of stops, by a number of variations; each of them cor rect in itself, at the same time, endowing the words with a different signification : " The persons inside the coach were Mr. Link, a clergyman, his son, a lawyer, Mr. Boscat, a foreigner, his lady and a little child." By this mode of pointing, it would appear that there were eight individuals in the coach ; namely a clergyman, a lawyer, a foreigner and his lady, a little child, Mr. Link, Mr. Boscat, and the clergyman's son. "The persons inside the coach were Mr. Link, a clergyman ; his son, a lawyer ; Mr. Boscat, a foreigner; his lady; and a little child." This change in the punctuation would reduce the parties in the coach, exclusive of the lady and child, to three persons, and make Mr. Link himself a clergyman, Mr. Link's son a lawyer, and Mr. Boscat a for eigner. "The persons inside the coach were Mr, Link ; a clergyman, his son ; a lawyer, Mr. Boscat ; a foreigner, his lady, and a little child." Here Mr. Link's son becomes a clergy man, Mr. Boscat a lawyer, and the lady and child those of a foreigner, who is nameless, "The persons inside the coach were Mr, Link ; a clergyman, his son ; a lawyer ; Mr, Boscat ; a foreigner, his lady ; and a little child." Mr. Boscat here ceases to be a lawyer; there is no longer a foreigner who is the hus band of the lady and the father of the child ;. but the lady is described as being a foreigner,, and Mr. Boscat's wife ; and the child is not understood as being akin to any person m the coach. Droll Mistakes. Many laughable errors of mispia^ punctuation, words and clauses of sentences, might be mentioned. A tourist writing from Switzerland said : "The distance was too great for a donkey to travel, therefore I did not attempt it." If anyone had called this traveller what he here calls himself, he would probably have considered himself grossly insulted. Another writer stated that "a copy of Macaulay's History of England was sold by the auctioneer bound in calf." It is not likely that the auctioneer considered himself complimented by the assertion that he was bound in this kind of material. A local newspaper contained the astonish* ETIQUETTE OF CORRESPONDENCE. ing statement : " We have just built a school- house for girls four stories high." The girls in this place were remarkably tall or else the writer intended to say, " We have just built a new school-house four stories high for girls." A woman wrote, " I wish to sell my piano, for I am going to Europe in a rosewood case with carved legs." It is diffi cult to determine which had the "carved legs" the piano, the rosewood case, or the woman. A clergyman wrote, "A young woman died yesterday while I was preaching in the street in a state of beastly intoxication." It is supposed that he intended to say that a young woman died yesterday in the street, in a state of beastly intoxication, while he was preaching, for it is not to be believed that a clergyman was beastly drunk. Another minister wrote, " I well remem ber when I was riding across the prairie with my beloved wife who has long since gone to heaven in a buggy." As there are doubts about the beloved woman making her exit from this world in a buggy, it is presumed that the clergyman was riding across the prairie in a buggy with his beloved wife, and that subsequent to that event she took her departure heavenward. A school report says, "There should be some improvement in the internal arrange ments of the primary school-room, as many of the seats have long been occupied by small children that have no backs." As "small children that have no backs" would prob ably be too feeble to attend school, it is supposed that the seats were without backs, not the children. An advertisement reads, "A gentleman would let his house, going abroad, to a small family with modern improvements." It is difficult to know what modern improvements there have been in small families, or how a house would look going abroad, so we con clude that the improvement belongs to the house, and that it is the gentleman who is going abroad. These errors are constantly occurring, even in letters of educated persons, and a lengthy chapter might be written upon the subject. There are also errors of contradiction of terms, vulgarly called "bulls," such as the statement of the Irishman, who said, "The empty seats are all full, and the next time I ride in that car, I'll walk, sure." A request was handed into the pulpit as follows : "A man going to sea, his wife de sires the prayers of the congregation for hi$ safety.'' The pastor, in the dimness of old age, startled the congregation by reading, "A man going to see his wife, desires the prayers of the congregation for his safety."' A lady sent a note to a neighbor as follows : " Mrs. Robinson would like to know how old, Mrs. Parsons is to-day ;" and received a reply from the younger Mrs. Parsons in the family, saying, "she did not think her age was any business of the neighbors." The fact was, Mrs. Robinson had put a comma after old, and the younger Mrs. Parsons did not realize that the inquiry was concern ing the health of her aged mother-in-law. A toast was given at a public dinner as follows: " Woman, without her, man is a brute," but the printer spoiled the sentiment by misplacing a comma, and it became "woman without her man, is a brute." Postscripts. The ladies have been accused, probably with some reason, of reserving the most important part of a letter for the postscript ; they should endeavor to avoid giving cause for being thus reproached. Postscripts are, for the most part, needless, and in bad taste. Pause a few moments before you conclude a letter, and reflect whether you have any 8o KULES OF ETIQUETTE FOR ALL OCCASIONS. thing more to say. Above all things, do not defer civilities, or kind inquiries, for any friend or acquaintance, to this justly-despised part of a letter. To do so, is a proof of thoughtlessness or disrespect " My kindest regards to rny cousin Frances," with a P. S. before it, looks like what it really is an after-thought; and is, therefore, not only without value, but, to persons of fine feel ings, offensive. The Proper Form of Address. The style of address should vary to suit the person addressed. In writing to strangers, you should address them as "Sir," or "Madam," ending the letter with, "Your obedient servant." To those with whom you are tolerably acquainted, you should say, " Dear Sir," or, " Dear Madam," ending your letter with "Yours faithfully." To your intimate friends, you should say, " My dear Sir," or, " My dear Madam," ending the letter with, " Yours truly," " Yours very truly," " Yours sincerely," or, " Yours very sincerely." It is allowable to use die form, " My dear Sir," even to strangers ; but it is always best to be cautious in this matter. In addressing a clergyman, use the form, '* Reverend and dear Sir." To a bishop say, " Right Reverend and dear Sir." Custom has made it proper, in addressing the President of the United States, or the Governor of a State of the Union, to use the form, " Your Excellency." It is proper, in addressing the President, to say, " Mr. Presi dent," which is his official title. The Vice- President is addressed as "The Honorable." Cabinet officers and heads of departments are addressed as follows: "The Honorable , Secretary of the Treasury," etc. The Chief Justice of the United States is addressed as " The Honorable , Chief Justice of the United States." Members of the two Houses of Congress, members of the Legislatures of States, and all judges of courts of law and justice, are entitled to be addressed as " The Honorable." Officers of the army and navy are addressed by their titles, as " General Nelson A. Miles," " Captain ," "Admiral ," etc. The members of the faculty of a college are addressed as " Professor," and where they possess an additional title, such as " D. D.," " L,L. D.," etc., it is added after the name, as, " Prof. Theophilus Dwight, LL. D." Ordinary persons are addressed as " Mr.," " Mrs.," or " Miss." Gentlemen are some times called ' ' Esqr. ' ' You may write ' * James Jarman, Esqr.," or " Mr. James Jarman," as you think best, but both titles must not be employed at once. In addressing the minister or ambassador accredited from a foreign country to the United States, it is customary to use the form "Your Excellency," giving him also his full title, which must be previously ascer tained. In England, where the constitution of society requires exactness in the use of titles, the following are the forms used : A letter to the Queen should begin, " Madam," " Most Gracious Sovereign," or " May it please your Majesty." The envelope should be addressed, " To the Queen's Most Excellent Majesty." A letter to the Prince of Wales should begin, " Your Royal Highness." The envel ope should be addressed, "To His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales." A letter to a member of the Royal family should begin, "Sir," or, "Madam," or, " Your Royal Highness." The envelope should be addressed, " To His Royal High ness the Duke of Edinburgh," "To Her Royal Highness the Princess Mary of Teck," etc. CHAPTER XL Proper Forms for Letters. VERY person who has much corres pondence to attend to, will appre ciate the convenience of having forms of well-written letters at hand for the vari ous occasions on which such forms are required. If you are averse to copying these, they will nevertheless be suggestive, and give an idea as to the subject matter of epistolary communications, and the manne* of writing them. These letters are grouped under various heads for the convenience of persons desiring to use them. Business letters may be found in a subse quent part of this work, where they properh belong. (J ir * , *s r t-t tt^ WisUs . tsi />' wtsu/ Qs &''uUs Gs ' ^J (J U. 'U, , RULES OF ETIQUETTE FOR ALL OCCASIONS. FAMILY LETTERS. A MOTHER TO HER DAUGHTER IN A BOARDING SCHOOL BOSTON, February 7, 189-. MY DEAR CHILD : Although we are separated in person, yet you are never absent from my thoughts . and it is my continual practice to recommend you to the care of that Being, whose eye? are on all his creatures, and to whom the secrets of ail hearts are open : but I have beers lately somewhat alarmed, because your two last letters do not run in that strain of unaffected piety as formerly. What, my dear, is this owing to ? Is your beneficent Creator a hardmaster, or are you resolved to embark in the fashionable follies of a gay unthinking world ? Excuse me, my dear, I am a mother, and my concern for your happiness is inseparably connected with my own. Perhaps I am mistaken, and, what I have considered as a fault may be only the effusions of j'outhful gaiety. I shall con sider it in that light, and be extremely glad, yea, happy, to find it so. Useful instruc tions are never too often inculcated, and therefore, give me leave again to put you in mind of that duty, the performance of which alone can make you happy, both in time and in eternity. Religion, my dear, is a dedication of the whole man to the will of God, and virtue is the actual operation of that truth, which diffuses itself through every part of om conduct : " her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace." Whilst the gay unthinking part of youth are devoting the whole of their time to fashionable pleasures, how happy shall I be to hear that my child was religious without hypocritical austerity, and even gay with innocence! Let me beg that you spend at least one hour each day in perusing your Bible, and some of our best English writers and don't imagine that religion is such a gloomy thing as some enthusiasts have represented : no, it indulges you in every rational amusement, so far as it is consistent with morality; it forbids nothing but what is hurtful. Let me beg you will consider attentively what I have written, and send me an answer as soon as you can. I am your affectionate mother. HE ANSWER NORTHAMPTON, February 10, 189-. MY DEAR MOTHER : I am so much affected with the perusal of your really parental advice, that I can scarcely hold the pen to write an answer; but duty to the best of parents obliges me to make you easy in your mind, before I take any rest to myself. That levity so con spicuous in my former letters, is too true to be denied, nor do I desire to draw a veil over my own folly. No, mother, I freely confess it ; but with the greatest sincerity, I must at the same time declare, that they were written in a careless manner, without considering the character of the person to whom they were addressed : I am fully sensible of my error, and on all future occasions, shall endeavor to avoid giving the least offense. The advice you sent me in your valuable letter, wants no encomium ; all that I desire is, to have it engraven on my heart. My dear mother, I love religion,, I love virtue, and I hope no consideration will ever lead me from those duties, in which alone I expect future happiness. Let me beg to hear from you often, and I hop? that my whole future conduct will convince the best of parents, that I am what shr wishes me to be. I am, dear mother, your dutiful daughter. PROPER FORMS FOR LETTERS. f YOUNG CLERK TO HIS FATHER 'H THE COUNTRY ELICITING j JCKET-MONEY PHILADELPHIA, March 4, 109-. MY DEAR FATHER : I wrote to you by Mr. Bale, but not having received any answer makes me very uneasy. Although I have been as good an economist as possible, yet I find the pocket- money you allowed me to take monthly from Mr. Willis, is not sufficient to support my necessary expenses. I assure you, that I abhor every sort of extravagance as much as you desire, and the small matter which I ask as an addition to your former allowance, is only to promote my own interest, which, I am sure, you have as much at heart as any parent possibly can have. My employer will satisfy you, that my conduct has beer consistent with the strictest rules of morality. I submit it to your judgment what yot think proper to order me. I did not choose to mention my want of money to Mr. Willis,, and for that reason have not taken anything more than what you ordered. I hope you! will not be offended with what I have written ; as I shall always consider myself happy in performing my duty, and retaining the favor of my honored parents. I am, your affectionate son. THE FATHER'S ANSWER BIRMINGHAM, 'PA., March 15, 189-. MY DEAR CHILD : My reason for not writing to you sooner was that I had been on a journey to yous uncle's, where I was detained longer than I expected, and consequently did not see youi letter till last night. I have considered your request, and am convinced that it is alto gether reasonable. You are greatly mistaken if you think that I wanted to confine you to the small matter paid to Mr. Willis. No, it was indeed inadvertency ; but my constant residence in the country makes me little acquainted with the customs of Philadelphia, I do not desire to confine you to any particular sum ; you are now arrived to an age when it becomes absolutely necessary for you to be well acquainted with the value of money ; your profession likewise requires it, and it is well known, that prudence and sobriety in youth, naturally lead to regularity of conduct in more advanced years. Virtue insures respect ; and, as I well know that all manner of precepts are useless where the inclinations are vicious, I have left the affair mentioned in your letter entirely to your own discretion ; and as the inclosed order is unlimited, I doubt not but prudence will direct you how to proceed. I am, dear child, your affectionate father. A SON TO HIS FATHER, ASKING CONSENT TO MARRY CHARLESTON, S. C., June i, 189-. MY DEAR FATHER : You know that it is now above a year since I entered into business for myself, and finding it daily increasing, I am obliged to look out for a partner ; I mean a wife. There is a very worthy family in this neighborhood, with whom I have been some time acquainted. They are in good circumstances, and have a daughter, an amiable young woman, greatly esteemed by all who know her : I have paid my addresses to her, and likewise obtained her parents' consent, on condition that it was agreeable to you. I would not do anything of that nature without your consent ; but I hope that, upon the strictest inquiry, you will find her such a person, that you will not have any objection to a match so advantageous. I shall, on every occasion, endeavor to act with the greatest prudence, consistent with the rules you were pleased to prescribe for my conduct. Her parents are to pay me five hundred dollars on the day of marriage, if the event should happen to take place ; and as they have no other children, the whole of their property becomes ours at their death. In whatever light you are pleased to consider this, I shah abide by your direction, and your answer in the meantime is impatiently expected by, Your obedient son. RULES OF ETIQUETTE FOR ALL OCCASIONS. THE FATHER'S ANSWER MOBILE, ALA., June 15, MY DEAR SON : I received your letter, and my reason for not answering it sooner is, that it being- em affair of great importance I was willing to proceed therein with the greatest caution. I wrote to Mr. Johnson, my particular friend, desiring him to inquire concerning the family you desired to be allied with, and I am glad to hear that his account does not differ from your own. I hope you do not think that I would desire to see you one moment unhappy. Your reasons for entering into the marriage state are every way satisfactory, and I am glad to hear that the person on whom you have placed your affections is so deserving. When you have fixed the wedding day, I will come to Charles ton to be present at the ceremony. I hope you will continue to attend to your business with the same diligence you have hitherto done ; and if you should live to an old age, you then will be able to retire from trade with honor both to yourself and family. I am, your affectionate father. AN ELDER BROTHER TO HIS YOUNGER BROTHER IN PHILADELPHIA MOUNT HOLLY, N. J., Sept. 9, 189-. DEAR BROTHER : I am very glad to hear you are pleased with the new situation in which the care of your friends has put you, but I would have you pleased, not with the novelty of it, but with the real advantage. It is natural for you to be glad you are under less restraint than you were ; for an employer has neither occasion nor inclination to watch a youth so much as his parents. But if you are not careful, this, although it now gives you a childish satisfaction, may, in the end, betray you into mischief; nay, to your ruin. Though your father is not in sight, dear brother, act always as if you were in his presence ; and be assured, that what would not offend him, will never displease anybody. You have more sense (I have often told you so), than most persons at your time. Now is the opportunity to make a good use of it ; and take this for certain, every right step you enter upon now, will be a comfort to you for your life. I would have your reason, as well as your fancy, pleased with your new situation, and then you will act as becomes you. Consider, brother, that the state of life that charms you so at this time, will bring you to independence and affluence. The employer with whom you are placed, was some years ago in your situation; and what should hinder you from being hereafter in his? All that is required is patience and industry; and these, brother, are very cheap articles, with which to purchase so comfortable a condition. Your employer, I am told, had nothing to begin the world withal. In that he was worse off" than you; for if you behave well, there are those who will set you up in a handsome manner. So you have sufficient inducements to be good, and a reward always follows it. Brother, farewell ! Be careful and honest, and God will bless- you. If ever you commit a fault, confess it at once ; for the lie in denying it is worse than the thing itself. Go to church constantly; write to us often. I think I need say no more to so good a lad as you, to induce you to continue so. I am, your affectionate brother. WIFE'S LETTER 10 AN ABSENT HUSBAND CHICAGO, Feb. 9, 189-. MY DEAR GILBERT : I have been playing and laughing with our little girl so long that I cannot takt up my pen to address you without emotion. Pressing her to my bosom, she looked so like you (your best looks, I do not admire your commercial face), every nerve seemed to vibrate to the touch, and I began to think there was something in the assertion of man and wife being one ; for you seemed to pervade my whole frame, quickening th beat of my heart, and lending me the sympathetic tears you excited. PROPER FORMS FOR LETTERS. 85 Have I any more to say to you ? No, not for the present the rest is all flow* away ! and indulging tenderness for you, I cannot now complain of some people here who have ruffled my temper for two or three days past. Yours, most affectionately, MARY. BOSTON, March n, 1815. MY DEAR BROTHER : I have thought best, before you go abroad, to suggest a few hints for your benefit in vour intercourse with the people among whom 3'ou are going. As a first and leading principle, let every transaction be of that pure and honest character that you would not be ashamed to have appear before the whole world as clearly as to yourself. In addition to the advantages arising from an honest course of conduct with your fellow-men, there is the satisfaction of reflecting within yourself that you have endeavored to do your duty > and however greatly the best may fall short of doing all they ought, they will be sure not to do more than their principles enjoin. It is, therefore, of the highest consequence that you should not only cultivate correct principles, but that you should place your standard of action so high as to require great vigilance in living up to it. In regard to your business transactions, let everything be so registered in your books that any person without difficulty can understand the whole of your concerns. You may be cut off in the midst of your pursuits, and it is of no small consequence that your temporal affairs should always be so arranged that you may be in readiness. If it is important that you should be well prepared in this point of view, how much more important is it that you should be prepared in that which relates to eternity ! You are young, and the course of life seems open, and pleasant prospects greet your ardent hopes ; but you must remember that the race is not always to the swift, and that however flattering may be your prospects, and however zealously you may seek pleasure, you can never find it except by cherishing pure principles and practicing right conduct. My heart is full on this subject, my dear brother, and it is the only one on which I feel the least anxiety. While here your conduct has been such as to meet my entire approbation ; but the scenes of another land may be more than your principles will stand against. I say, may be, because young men of as fair promise as yourself have been lost by giving a small latitude (innocent in the first instance) to their propensities. But I pray the Father of all mercies to have you in his keeping, and preserve you amid temptations. I can only add my wish to have you write me frequently and particularly, and that you will embrace every opportunity of gaining information. Your affectionate brother, AMOS LAWRENCE. To ABBOTT LAWRENCE. August 16, 1835. MY DEAR AND HONORED MOTHER : My mind turns back to you almost as frequently as its powers are brought into iETTFR OF AMOS * . , . , . >- AW EN E TO separate action, and always with an interest that animates and quickens my pulse ; for, H.s MOTHER under God, it is by your influence and teachings that I am prepared to enjoy those blessings which He has so richly scattered in my path in all my onward progress in life. How could it be otherwise than that your image should be with me, unless I should prove wholly unworthy of you ? Your journey is so much of it performed that those subjects which interested you greatly in its early stages have lost their charms ; and well it is that they have ; for they now would prove clogs in the way, and it is to youi RULES OF ETIQUETTE FOR ALL OCCASIONS. children, to your Saviour, and your God that your mind and heart now turn as the natural sources of pleasure. Each of these, I trust, In their proper place and degree supply all your wants. The cheering 1 promise that has encouraged you when your powers were the highest will not fail you when the weight of years and infirmities have made it necessary to your comfort to get over the few remaining spans of the journey. To God I commend you ; and pray Him to make your path light, and your way confiding and joyful, until you shall reach that home prepared for the faithful. Your affectionate son, A. LAWRENCE. JOHN ADAMS TO HIS WIFE PHILADELPHIA, Feb. n, 1776. MY DEAR WIFE; : Here I am again ; arrived last Thursday in good health, although I had a cold journey. The weather a great part of ih.2 way was very severe, which prevented our making very quick progress. My companion was agreeable, and made the journey much less tedious than it would have been. I can form no judgment of the state of public opinion and principles here as yet, nor any conjecttires of what an hour may bring forth. Have been to meeting, and heard Mr. Duffield from Jere. 2 : 17 : "Hast thou not procured this unto thyself, in that thou hast forsaken the Lord thy God when he led thee by the way ? " He prayed very earnestly for Boston and New York, supposing the latter to be in danger of destruction ; I, however, am not convinced that Vandeput will fire upon that town. It has too much Tory property to be destroyed by Tories. I hope it will be fortified and saved. If not, the question may be asked, " Hast thou not pro cured this ? ' ' etc. To-morrow Dr. Smith is to deliver an oration in honor of the brave Montgomery. I will send it as soon as it is out to you. There is a deep anxiety, a kind of thoughtful melancholy, and in some a lowness of spirits approaching to despondency, prevailing through the Southern colonies at present, very similar to what I have often observed in Boston, particularly on the first news of the Port Bill, and last j^ear about this time, or a little later, when the bad news arrived which dashed their fond hopes with which they had deluded themselves through the winter. In this or a similar condition we shall remain I think until late in the spring, when some critical event will take place, perhaps sooner. But the Arbiter of events, the Sovereign of the world, only knows which way the torrent will be turned. Judging by experience, by probabilities, and by all appearances, I conclude it will roll on to dominion and glory though the circumstances and conse quences may be bloody. In such great changes and commotions individuals are but atoms. It is scarcely worth while to consider what the consequences will be to us. What will be the effects upon present and future millions, and millions of millions, is a question very interesting to benevolence, natural and Christian. God grant they May, and I firmly believe they will, be happy. 4BIGAII ADAMS TO JOHN ADAMS BRAINTREE, Saturday Evening, 2d March, 1776. MY DEAR, I was greatly rejoiced at the return of your servant to find you had safely arrived; 2nd that you were well. I had never heard a word from you after you had left New York, and a most ridiculous story had been industriously propagated in this and neigh boring towns to injure the cause and blast your reputation, namely, that you and your President (Hancock) had gone aboard a man-of-war and sailed for England. I should not mention so idle a report, but that it had given uneasiness to some of your friends ; not that they in the least credited the report, but because the gaping vulgar swallowed the story. PROPER FORMS FOR LETTERS. 87 I assure you that such high disputes took place in the public-house of this parish than some men were collared and dragged out of the shop with great threats for reporting such scandalous lies, and an uncle of ours offered his life as a forfeit for you if the report proved true. However, it has been a nine days' marvel, and will now cease. I heartily wish every Tory was extirpated from America. They are continually by secret means undermining and injuring our cause. I have been kept in a continual state of anxiety and expectation ever since you left me. It has been said " to-morrow " and "to-morrow " for this month, but when to morrow will be I know not. But hark ! The house this instant shakes with the roai of cannon. I have been to the door, and find that it is a cannonading from our army. Orders, I find, are come for all the remaining imlitia to repair to the lines Monday night by twelve o'clock. No sleep for me to-night ; Hit if I cannot, who have no guilt upon my soul in regard to this cause, how shall the miserable wretches who have been the procurers of this dreadful scene, and those whc are to be the actors, lie down with the load of guilt upon their souls ? Adieu. Yours, Astoi House, New York, Dec. 7, 1837. MY DEAR JUUA, LETTER OF * don't remember that I ever wrote you a letter. I feel confident, however, that your CHARLES SUMNER correspondence is not very extensive ; and therefore I flatter myself that what I write ON LEAVING FOR you will be read with attention, and I trust, also, deposited in your heart. Before EUROPE, TO HIS *'. i-* r i. t. L 11 1. SISTER. TEN trusting myself to the sea, let me say a few words to you which shall be my good-by. VEARS OLD i have often spoken to you of certain habits of personal care, which I will not here more particularly refer to than by asking you to remember all I have told you. I am very glad, my dear, to remember your cheerful countenance. I shall keep it In my mind as I travel over sea and land, and hope that when I return I may still find Its pleasant smile ready to greet me. Try never to cry. But above all things never be obstinate or passionate. If you find your temper mastering vou, always stop till you count sixty before you say or do anything. Let it be said of you that you are always amiable. Love your father and mother, and brothers and sisten", and all your friends ; cultivate an affectionate disposition. If you find that you can do anything which will add to the pleasure of your parents, or anybody else, be sure to do it. Consider every opportunity of adding to the pleasure of others as of the highest importance, and do not be unwilling to sacrifice some enjoy ment of your own, even some dear plaything, if by doing so you CAn promote the happiness of others. If you follow this advice you will never be selfish or ungenerous, and everybody will love you. Study all the lessons you have at school, and when at home, in the t-'rae when you are tired of play, read some good books which will help to improve your m>nd. . . . If you will let Horace read this letter it will do the same, perhaps, as one addressed to him. Give my love to mother, and Mary, and the rest. Your affectionate brother, CHARLES. April i Q, 1757. DEAR SISTER : A LETTER OF I wrote a few lines to you yesterday, but omitted to answer yours relating to Sistet BENJAMIN FRANKLIN TO His Dowse. As having their own way is one of the greatest comforts of life to old people, SISTER I think their friends should endeavor to accommodate them in that, as well as anything else. When they have lived long in a house it becomes natural to them ; they are almost as closely connected with it as the tortoise with his shell ; they die if you tear then; LETTER OF JAMES A. GARFIELD ON THE DEATH OF HIS CHILD RULES OF ETIQUETTE FOR ALL OCCASIONS. out ; old folks and old trees, if you remove them, it is ten to one that 3'ou kill them So let our good old sister be no more importuned on that head. We are growing old fast ourselves, and shall expect the same kind of indulgences , if we give them, we shall have a right to receive them in our turn. And as to her few fine things, I think she is right about selling them, and for the reason that she gives, that they will fetch but little ; when that little is spent, they would be of no further use to her ; but perhaps the expectation of possessing them at her death may make that person tender and careful, and helpful to her to the amount of ten times their value If so, they are put to the best use they possibly can be. I hope you will visit sister as often as your affairs will permit, and afford her what assistance and comfort you can in her present situation. Old age, infirmities, and poverty joined, are afflictions enough. The neglect and slights of near relatives and friends should never be added. People in her circumstances are apt to suspect this sometimes without cause. Appearances, therefore, should be attended to, in our conduct toward them, as well as relatives. I write by this post to Cousin Williams to continue his care, which I doubt not he will do. We expect to sail in about a week, so I shall hardly have time to hear from you on this side of the water. Your affectionate brother, BENJAMIN. WASHINGTON, D. C., Nov. 9, 1876. MY DEAR CORYDON : I arrived in this city yesterday afternoon, and found that your kind letter of the ad inst. was awaiting me. Our precious little Eddie died on the 25th of October, and on the same evening 'Crete and I left with the body, and on the ayth we buried him beside our little girl, who died thirteen years ago. Both are lying in the graveyard at Hiram, and we have come back to those which are still left us, but with a desolation in our hearts known only to those who have lost a precious child. It seems to me that we are many years older than we were when our dear little boy died. His little baby ways so filled the house with joy that the silence he has left is heart-breaking. It needs all my philosophy and courage to bear it. It was hard to go on with the work of the great campaign with so great a grief in my heart, but I knew it was my duty, and I did it as well as I could. 'Crete joins me in my kindest regards to you and May. I hope the time may come when we can sit down and renew the memories of other days and enjoy a long visit. 1 am here now for the winter, and shall soon be at work in the Supreme Court, where I am having a number of important cases. With as much love as ever, I am your friend and brother, JAMES A. GARFIELD. LETTER OF JAMES A, GARFIELD, DESCRIBING DORCHESTER DORCHESTER HEIGHTS, Mass., Jan. 5, 1856. MY DEAR CORYDON AND MARY : I want to pencil a few lines to you from this enchanting spot on the seashore six miles from Boston, and when I return perhaps I will ink it in a letter to you. 1 am spending the night here with a classmate of mine, one of the dearest friends 1 have in college. I am now in an old house, every timber of oak, built more than one hundred years ago. To one who has seen cities rise from the wild forest in the space of a dozen years, and has hardly ever seen a building older than himself, you may be assured that many reflections are awakened by the look of antiquity that everything has around me. The quaint old beams and panelled walls, the heavy double windows that look out ocea^a- ward, in short, the whole air of the building speaks of the days of the olden time PROPER FORMS FOR LETTERS. 89 To think that these walls have echoed to the shouts of loyalty to George the king, have heard all the voices of the spirit stirring Revolution, the patriotic resolve, the tramp of the soldier's foot, the voice of the beloved Washington (for within a few rods of here he made his first Revolutionary encampment), the cannon of Bunker Hill, the lamentations of defeat and shouts of victory all these cannot but awaken peculiar reflections. To how many that are now sleepers in the quiet chuchyard, or wanderers in the wide, cold world, has this been the dear ancestral hall where all the joys oi childhood were clustered. Within this oaken -ceiled chamber how many bright hope? have been cherished and high resolves formed; how many hours of serene joy, and how many heart-throbs of bitter anguish ! If these walls had a voice J would ask them to tell me the mingled scenes of joy and sorrow they have witnessed. .But even their silence has a voice, and I love to listen. But without there is no silence, for the tempest is howling and the snows are drifting. The voice of the^reak waves, as they come rolling up against the wintry shore, speaks of Him "whos vv?r is as the sound of many waters." Only a few miles from here is the spot where > " The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods against a stormy sky Their giant branches tossed ; And the heavy night hung dark The hills and water o'er, When a band of Pilgrims moored their bark On the wild New England shore." But the coal has sunk to the lowest bar in the grate beside me ; 'tis far past tbe noon of night, and I must close. As ever, your own affectionate JAMES. FROM A LITTLE 'IRL. WANTING fO COVE HOME AMENIA SEMINARY. DEAR MAMMA : O ! I am so tired of this place ! I cannot learn so many things at once ; and I cannol bear going to bed without kissing you. You know, mamma, I have never been away from you before, and I feel as if I should die of grief if you do not let me come home again. Do, mamma, do, and I will love you for ever. Your miserable child, BLANCHE. JERSEY CITY, Saturday, i6th. MY DEAR CHILD : THE ANSWER I am sorry that you should pain me by so unreasonable a request. You know we'l that nothing pleases me more than to have all of you around me ; but you must recollect that all your brothers and sisters have been to school before you, and they never com plained at all. I know that you, being the youngest, have been petted a great deal by all of us ; but, for that very reason you ought to try and give us pleasure, by growing up a good and clever girl. Believe me, my dear child, you will find school become more pleasant every day, as you get better acquainted with your schoolfellows, and as your improvement gains the approval of your mistress. Youth, my dear little girl, is the proper time for exertion ; for if we once lose the precious hours of early life, we have naught to look back to but disappointment and regret. I have written to Mrs. to ask her to give you not quite so many lessons at first, and have no doubt she will do all to assist you. But you must try to be happy, and ANNOUNCING THE VACATION RULES OF ETIQUETTE FOR ALL OCCASIONS. look forward to the Christmas vacation as the reward of the little self-privation you are at present undergoing. With the united kind loves of your father, brothers and sisters v I am, my dear child, v our affectionate mother. WOODLAWN HOUSE, June i, 189-. MY DEAR PARENTS : It is with mingled feelings of regret and pleasure, that I announce that the termi< nation of this half year's work is fixed for the th instant. I sincerely hope that I shall not only find you both in excellent health, but that you will be satisfied with my improvement since I last left home. No pains have been spared by any of my teachers to render me worthy of your good opinion ; and I must ever feel grateful both to them, and to yourselves, for the pains bestowed upon my education. Mrs. (or Miss) desires me to present her best compliments ; and, with my best love to my sisters and brothers, believe me to remain, my dear parents, Your ever dutiful and affectionate daughter. ACKNOWLEDGING A PRESENT RICHMOND, April 4, 189-. MY DEAR FATHER : How kind of you to think of me immediately after your return from Paris ! The trinkets you sent are so very beautiful, that I should have been afraid of exciting the envy of my school-fellows, had it not been for the liberal supply of French con fectionery (of which, I assure you, very little now remains) by which they were accom panied. I assure you, I spare no trouble to win the good opinion of my school-mistress and teachers ; and if I may judge from their kindness towards me, I am not altogether unsuccessful. I am enjoying excellent health and spirits ; but I hope now you are in New York, you will sometimes run down and see your daughter ; for, believe me, nothing but an occasional thought of poor, widowed papa, ever intrudes upon my cheerfulness. Mrs. has frequently expressed a wish to see you, so that I shall look forward with anxiety for that happy occasion. Again thanking you for your thoughtful and liberal kindness, Believe me to remain, ray dear father, Your ever affectionate and grateful daughter. TO A DAUGHTER .ON HER BIRTHDAY NEW ORLEANS, February 12, 189-. MY DEAREST CHILD : Your father, brothers and sisters, all unite with me in sending j^ou a thousand good wishes on this your th anniversary. We could all have wished that circum stances would have allowed of your spending it with us ; but feeling, in these matters, must oftentimes be sacrificed to utility, and our selfish delights must no* be suffered to interfere with the prospects of those dear to us. The package which accompanies this letter, contains not only some trifling tokens of affection from all of us, but the materials for a little entertainment which, I have no doubt, Mrs. will allow you to give to your schoolfellows, as I have written to beg a half-holiday on the occasion. God bless you, my dear child ! and that every succeeding year may see you increase in all that is desirable in body and mind, is the earnest prayer of your ever anxious parents. With best compliments to your mistress and teachers, Believe me, Your ever affectionate mother. PROPER FORMS FOR LETTERS. FROM A BROTHER TJ HIS MARRIED SISTER IN A FOREIGN COUNTRY NEW YORK, June 3, 189-. MY DEAR SISTER : We have been long impatiently expecting a letter from you The last we received was far too brief, as we were anxious to know more about the particulars of your voyage, and how you managed on your arrival at the place of destination. The distance which now separates us invests all that concerns you with a peculiar interest, and our anxiety on the subject of your welfare can only be allayed by as full and particular a recital as you can possibly write. Believe me, it is no mere curiosity that elicits this wish on our part to be better informed of all that befalls you ; as, since we have but too much reason to conclude that our meetings together are perhaps now forever closed, we are the more anxious to hear from you as often as possible, and I ani sure you will not withhold from us this pleasure. As for ourselves at home, little change has taken place since you left America ; the health of our dear parents remains much the same ; as does also that of most of our relatives and connections. They all unite with me in wishing you and your husband all possible health and happiness, and I remain, my dear sister, Your affectionate brother, To Mrs. . FROM A BROTHER IN THE COUNTRY 10 HIS SISTER 5N NEW YORK GALVESTON, Texas, September 4, 189-, MY DEAR SISTER : Not having heard from you for the last three months, I feel anxious to learn how you are at present situated, and what may be your future prospects. You have now been nearly three years with Mrs. , and the period for which you were articled to that lady draws to a close. I hope you have now formed some plan for the future ; and whatever that plan may be, I shall, if you think proper to confide in me, be most willing and ready to give you my best advice and assistance. If you purpose having a short rest from business, and will come to Galveston for a few weeks, your sister-in-law, who unites with me in the kindest regards to you, will do her best to make that period pass agreeably. Pray write quickly to Your affectionate brother. O2TTERS OF INVITATION. INVITATION TO A BACHELOR PARTY NEWARK, September u, 189-. MY DEAR Jot, . Myself, and half a dozen other good fellows, are going to devote a few hours on Tuesday evening to the enjoyment of a few glasses of wine, chit-chat, and so on. 3 hope you will make one, as we have not enjoyed the " feast of reason and flow of soul" in each other's company for some time past. Believe me, dear Joe, Yours ever, HARRY. AN INVITATION TO A PRIVATE DINNER MADISON SQUARE, November 12, 189-. DEAR MR. ROBINSON : My old friend Richard Roy is coming to take a chop with me on Saturday the 15th, and I hope you will come and join us at six o'clock. I know you are not partial to parties, so trust you will think us two sufficient company. Yours ever truly, RULES OF ETIQUETTE FOR ALL OCCASIONS. AN INVITATION TO A WATER PARTY DEAR July 12, 189-* Jack , myself, and four others are going down to Richmond in a six-oared boat next Wednesday. Now, you are a jolly fellow and a good steersman, so I hope you will give us your company and your services ; indeed, we will take no excuse. We shall set out from my lodging at 9 o'clock, without fail. Yours truly, in haste, UN INVITATION TO ft PICNIC PARTY ANOTHER, TO A BATHER OF A FAMILY ALBANY, July 3, 189-. MY DEAR SIR : We are endeavoring to get up a small excursion to visit the Catskills on the loth of this month. Will you do us the favor of making one of our number? Mrs. and my family desire their compliments, and request me to mention that they have taken upon themselves the task of providing the "creature comforts" for that occasion, and trust that their exertions will meet with unanimous approval. Should you have no previous engagement for that day, and feel disposed to join our party, a carriage will be at your door by 10 o'clock on Thursday morning ; and believe me to be, My dear sir, yours most sincerely, To , Esq. P.S. The favor of an early ansT/er wil 1 ^blige. NEW YORK, July 20, 189-. MY DEAR SIR : May I hope that you will allow your boys and girls to join mine in an excursion tc Glen Cove on the 27th ? We expect to niak~ rather a large party, and have, therefore, made arrangements to dine at the Cove House. In haste, believe me. my dear sir, yours ever sincerely. Mr. . NOTES OF INVITATION. AN INVITATION ANSWER TO THE ABOVE, A.CEPTING Mr. and Mrs. Thompson request the pleasure of Mr. and Mrs. James's company, on Wednesday evening next, at eight o'clock, to join a social party. An immediate answer will much oblige. Fifth Avenue, January pth. Mr. and Mrs. James will be most happy to avail themselves of Mr. ad Mrs. Thompson's kind invitation to join their social party as requested. Houston Street, January loth. ANSWER, DECLINING TO AM INTIMATE FRIEND Mr. and Mrs. James greatly regret their inability to accept Mr. and Mrs. Thompson's kind invitation to join their social party. Nothing would have afforded them more pleasure than to be present, but family affliction prevents them. West Street, January loth. MY DEAR BERTHA, A few friends will be here on Wednesday evening next, to takfe a social cup of tea, and chat about mankind in particular. Give us the pleasure of you* company. s< BUCKMAN. Pi i nee Street, Saturday morning. REPLY MY DEAR SOPHIE, It affords me great pleasure to inform you that I shall join you/i party, on Wednesday evening next. BERTHA MERWIN. Spring Street, Saturday afternoon. PROPER FORMS FOR LETTERS. 93 r'ROM A GENTLEMAN TO HIS FRIEND CONTAINING AN INVITATION TKE ANSWER CEPTINGTHE NVITATION ANOTHER ANSWER CONTAINING AM EXCUSE ORANGE, N. J., July 2, 189-. MY DEAR FRIEND : Being now settled at my country residence for the summer, I lose no time in soliciting the pleasure of your company, together with that of your family, and trust that you will make it convenient to pass a month or six weeks with us in our rural retirement. I believe that you are too well aware of my friendship, to doubt every thing will be done to render your stay with us agreeable. My wife desires me to inform you, that unless you comply with this, our mutual request, your name will be erased from her good books. Very faithfully yours. WASHINGTON, D. C., July 4, 189-. MY DEAR SIR : Your very friendly and polite invitation demands my immediate attention. You may be assured, that I never willingly resign the pleasure of enjoying your society ; and, on the present occasion, I am extremely happy to sa}', that I have nothing to prevent my acceptance of your very kind offer. You may, therefore, expect me and my family in the course of ten days. I hope we shall be able to prevail on you and your good lady to return with us. Requesting you to be assured, that I am truly sensible of your repeated acts of friendly attention towards me, I am, dear sir, with best wishes for your health and happiness (in which my wife unites), very affectionately, Yours truly. WASHINGTON, D. C., July 5, 189-. MY WORTHY FRIEND : I am truly obliged to you foi your very friendly invitation, and sincerely lament that the pressure of my business prevents me at present from complying with it ; though I hope this will not induce your amiable lady to erase my name from her good books, especially as it is no fault of mine, my inclination being decidedly in favor of the visit. My family unite with me in the kindest remembrances to you all ; and I subscribe myself, Your obliged friend, FROM A LADY TO HR FEMALE LETTERS OF FRIENDSHIP. No. 1519 GREENE STREET, May 2, 189-. MY DEAR GRACE : As I have never withheld even my most secret thoughts from you, I cannot avoid informing you, that since my last letter, I have received an offer of marriage from Mr. Dawson. This, you will perhaps say, has been long expected. True, my dear girl, but it is not, therefore, the less important ; especially as my lover is very ardent in his professions, and my heart, could he discover its inmost feelings, is no less repugnant to delay than his own. However, my dear girl, to confess the truth, I will inform you that I received the offer of his hand with all that rapture which derives its origin from pure love, and accepted with that candor, which I sincerely trust, I shall never (even for a moment) lose sight of. Yes, my beloved friend, the most important action of your friend's life, on which all her future felicity or misery depends, is finally determined upon ; and on Wednesday next I am pledged to become the wife of the only man I ever loved Agreeably, therefore, to a long-standing promise, I shall expect that you will make it conyenient to attend as my bridemaid. And believe me to be, my dear girl, Ever faithfully Your affectionate friend. 94 RULES OF ETIQUETTE FOR ALL OCCASIONS. No. 1290 WALNUT STREET, May 3, 189-, MY DEAR LAURA : rH ANSWER The fresh proof you have given me of your friendship and confidence, would, if any thing could do so, increase that friendly interest I have ever felt in all which eoncerne*. you. However, though I have ten thousand things to say, I shall reserve the whole tiU we meet. I shall certainly do myself the pleasure of attending upon you in an official capaciU on your wedding-day, when you may expect that I design to have my laugh out, though believe me, without any joke, to be Yours ever, most faithfully, JOSEPHINE. TO A LADY REFUSING A FAVOR THE PINES, March 11, 189-. DEAR MADAM : It is very painful to me to be under the necessity of replying to your letter o* yesterday's date, as I cannot at the same time render you the assistance you require Had it been in my power, I should have instantly complied, as I should be happy, at all times, if possible, to anticipate your wishes ; I trust, therefore, you will forgive mt these lines, and believe me to be (although I do not in the present instance prove it) Your sincere friend, LEANDER WILMINGTON. FROM ONE MARRIED LADY IN INDIA TO ANOTHER IN AMERICA BUNGARAPOORA, June 13, 189-. MY DEAR MRS. PATMORE : After so. many years' absence, I was, indeed, delighted to hear that yourself and your dear little ones were alive and well, and that your married life appeared to have realized every happiness you deserved. I assure you that I plagued Colonel with questions till he was utterly incapable of saying anything more about you, and that tne delightful idea of writing once more to my dear old friend and schoolfellow, is almost too much for me to believe it true. My life, like your own, has been a happy and prosperous one. You can pardon 5 mother's vanity, when I assure you that my children are all that I could wish. Herbert. the eldest, is already established in a situation calculated to place him in an excellent position hereafter, while his conduct is such as to make him beloved both as a son and a brother. Agnes, whom you recollect as a little thing in a white frock and blue sash, is engaged to the eldest son of Colonel , who bids fair to make her an excellent husband, and who likewise possesses interest likely to insure him future success. As for the younger ones, I assure you that they are as amiable children as (allowing for the inevitable whims and mischief natural to all of us) I could hope for. Baby (who is just fifteen months old) is universally voted a prodigy of talent, and is petted and spoilt by everybody. My dear husband, who is never happy except with his children around him, has so firm, and yet so kindly an influence over them, .that we are able to treat them as friends, and waive the stern control which is unhappily required, and sometimes injudiciously practiced, in many families. Now that we have once more resumed correspondence, I hope that our letters may be less like "angels' visits," than heretofore, and that I may hear all about you and yours. With a prayer for a blessing on yourself, your husband, and dear children, believe me, Dear Alice, Ever your affectionate friend, To MRS. PATMORE. SARAH HIGGINS. PROPER FORMS FOR LETTERS. 95 LETTER OF HON. CHARLES SUMNER, ON LEAVING NEW YORK FOR ATRIP TO EUROPE, TO PROF. SIMON GREENLEAF, CAMBRIDGE, MASS. ASTOR HOUSE, N. Y., December 7> 1837. MY DEAR FRIEND : My hours of terra firma are numbered. To-morrow before this t'me I shall be rocking on the water. Qualms of sea-sickness will be upon me ; and, more than these, the anxiety and regrets at leaving friends, kindred, and country. It is no slight affair to break away from business which is to give me my daily bread and pass across the sea to untried countries, usages, and language, and I feel now pressing with a mountain's weight the responsibility of my step. But I go abroad with the firmest determination to devote myself to self-improvement from the various sources of study, observation, and society, and to return an American. Gladly will I receive any of those accomplishments or modifications of character which justly proceed from an extended survey of the human family. I pray fervently that 1 may return with benefits on my head, and that the affectations of character and indif ference to country, which are thought sometimes to proceed from travel, may not reacis me. All this is in the unknown future, which I may not penetrate. To the candid judgment and criticism of my friends I shall submit myself on my return, and shall esteem it one of the highest duties of friendship to correct me and assist in bringing me back to the path of sense and simplicity, if it shall be found that I have departed from it. Do not let it be said, then, that I shall be spoiled by Europe, but rather suggest that I shall return with an increased love for my country, an admiration for its institutions, and added capacity for performing my duiy in life. My knowledge of character must be elevated, and my own ambition have higher objects. If this is not so, then I shall have seen Europe in vain, and my friends may regret their generous confidence in me. My pen trembles in my hand as in that of a culprit who sees before him the awful tree, and co'ints the seconds which remain to him. I have a thousand things to say, but no time in which to express them ; so, with love to Mrs. Greenleaf, farewell, and believe me, Your affectionate friend, CHARLES SUMNEK. LETTER OF CHARLES LAMB TO SOUTHEY CONCERNING HIS NEW COAT MY DEAR SOUTHEY : My tailor has brought me home a new coat, lapelled, with a velvet collar. He assures me that everybody wears velvet collars now. Some are born fashionable, some achieve fashion, and others, like your humble servant, have fashion thrust upon them. The rogue has been making inroads hitherto by modest degrees, foisting upon me an additional button, recommending garters ; but to come upon me thus in full tide oi luxury neither becomes him as a tailor or the ninth of a man. My meek gentleman was robbed the other day, coming with his wifc and family itt a one-horse chaise from Hampstead. The villains rifled him of four guineas, some shillings and sixpences, and a bundle of customers' measures, which they swore were bank-notes. They did not shoot him, and when they rode off he addressed them with profound gratitude, saying, "Gentlemen, I wish you good-night, and am very much obliged to you that you have not used me ill !" And this is the cuckoo J-hat has had the audacity to force upon me ten buttons on a side, and a black velvet collar. A cursed ninth of a scoundrel ! When you write to Lloyd, he wishes his Jacobin corr^pondents to address him as Mr. C. L. What I have owed to thee I can never forget ; God love you and yours. CHARLES LAMB. RULES OF ETIQUETTE FOR ALL OCCASIONS. fNrOUNCING MKIVAL TO A FRIEND ON HER INTENDED MARRIAGE TO A GENTLEMAN ON HIS MARRIAGE ENGAGEMENT TO A FRIEND ON HIS GOOD FORTUNE A FRIEND - N THE BIRTH OF & SON DEAR RODERICK : I have just arrived on the Steamship Majestic, after a quick and pleasant voyage Expect me to greet you face to face at my earliest convenience. As ever, BRANDON. LETTERS OF CONGRATULATION. MY DEAR VICKSBURG, September 20, 189-. No one, I believe, can be more desirous to hear of your welfare and your prosperous settlement in the marriage state than myself. I have long been sensible of your worth, your goodness of heart, your rectitude of principle, and your warmth of friendship. Enviable among men will be the lot of him who is destined to become your partner foi life ; and fortunate, indeed, was Mr. in that introduction which first presented you to his notice. As for Mr. , I need scarcely observe that I approve of yoxit choice, in which you have shown a discrimination that does credit to your taste, and to that good sense which has been the guide of your past life. Adieu, and believe me to be, my dear , Yours most sincerely and atfectionately, PHILADELPHIA, January 6, 189-. DEAR OLD FELLOW : And so you really are to be a Benedict ! Well ! I have no objection, provided you feel convinced that it is a measure likely to tend to your happiness. For myself, I am Still a bachelor, although I do not know what such temptation as you appear to have undergone might not do towards upsetting my present resolutions. You know I have no antipathy to matrimony : bv.t, unlike yourself, I have not independent means sufficient to render me fearless of consequences, and should not be disposed to involve any woman, whom I could like sufficiently to make my wife, in a doubtful state of circumstances, if not in a discomfort which must be painful to a man of proper feeling and honor. At the same time, believe me, I cordially sympathize with your delight at the prospect of an agreeable union, and wish sincerely that every liappiness may be the result. Ever truly yours, LOUISVILLE, Ky., February 10, 189-. MY DEAR HOWARD : The news of your good fortune gives me great satisfaction. No one can possess true friendship without rejoicing in the prosperity of a friend. To one who has always been manly, true and noble, and who has labored persistently toward a particular end, success must be extremely gratifying. It will ever be my delight to hear that you are prospering in your undertakings, and if in any way I can serve you, you can rely upon my best endeavors. With every good wish for yourself and Mrs. Kerr, Ever faithfully yours, ST. Louis, Mo., June 15, 189-. DEAR OLD FRIEND : The happy announcement that a son and heir has been born to you, gives mi extreme satisfaction. I always thought you would distinguish yourself in some way, and would do something whereby your name might descend to posterity. And now, my worthy chum, it seems you have done ft. I will not draw any picture of the car^s and anxieties of fatherhood, such as carrying a squalling youngster on your arm at 3 o'clock in the morning, running for the doctor when the little one has spasms of wind colic, opening your eyes with astonishment a? PROPER FORMS FOR LETTERS. TO FRIENDS ON A MARRIAGE ANNIVERSARY A LETTER OF CONDOLENCE ON THE DEATH OF A HUSBAND THE SAME, ON A CHILD'S DEATH bills ror shoes, dresses and toys, but will content myself with sharing the joy which you feel over the new arrival, and reminding you that whatever may be the cares and anxieties which children bring with them, in their intelligence, their artlessness, their love, there is abundant compensation and delight. Wishing you and the happy mother, as well as the young gentleman who will soon have the honor of calling you papa, the the best of Heaven's blessings, I remain Yours most sincerely, MONTGOMERY, ALA., Octobers, 189-. MY DEAR MR. AND MRS. TREVELYAN : The announcement of the fifteenth anniversary of your wedding recalls the long period of time through which it has been our happy privilege to enjoy an uninterrupted friendship. This is your crystal wedding, and you will allow me to say that I trust your lives will always be as bright and sparkling as the gifts which you will receive. 1 am sure you are proving the blessedness of married life, and they always do who enjoy mutual confidence, sympathy and support. The darkness which at times has crossed the path along which you have now traveled for fifteen years, has always had its silver lining, and my wish is that no greater sorrows may overtake you in the future than have fallen to your lot already. These you have borne with Christian patience, and have thus transformed them into benedictions. Accept my hearty congratulations on this anniversary of your nip.rned life, and may another, which shall be tinged with silver, and another still, enriched with gold, fall to your lot. Very affectionately yours, LETTERS OF SYMPATHY. CHICAGO, June i8th, 189-. MY DEAR : If any consolation can be afforded tinder so heavy an affliction as you have just experienced, it must come from a higher power than mine. Your own strong sense of religion, and of our duty of resignation to a power that is beyond our control, and a will that is ever beneficently directed towards our good, must uphold you in this most bitter trial. I well know how painful the well-meant, but often mistaken, officiousness of friends may be on such occasions, or I should have hastened to your side id sought to assuage the pangs of your overworn spirit. It were a melancholy pleasure to dwell upon the virtues and accomplishments of your late beloved husband ; but the subject is too painful for me, and, in the confidence that he is in the enjoyment of an everlasting happiness, such as, my dear , even you could not have realized to him on earth, I hope that you will support your spirits both for your own and your children's sake, and look forward to that brighter and happier world in which we shall go to those " r ho cannot return to us. God comfort you, dear . Your affectionate and sorrowing friend, To Mrs. NEW YORK, July 5th, 189 -. MY DEAH : If anything could have caused me especial pain, it was the news of your sad be reavement. How I remember your dear child ! Affectionate, lively, and intelligent ever displaying a thoughtfulness beyond his years, and holding forth hopes of happi ness in after times which will scarcely bear reflection. It has, indeed, been a heavy blow, and I scarcely know how to talk of consolation under so bitter an affliction. But think, my dear , of One who " careth for all, " who loves little children beyond others, and think of the bright and never-ending futr^ 7 'E SAME, ON VERSE OF UNE ANNOUNCING TO A LADY THE DEATH OF HER SISTER RULES OF ETIQUETTE FOR ALL OCCASIONS. life of that dear child, whose spirit has passed away but for a brief period, whose soui only waits in heaven to hail the mother from whom he has been parted. I can say no more ; human consolations are weak and poor. May a higher power do that which I cannot 1 Ever sincerely yours, To Mrs. STATEN ISLAND, January 3, 189-. DEAR : I am truly pained to hear of the melancholy change in your circumstances. I had hoped that your husband's position and connections would have prevented the possibility of his embarking in any scheme where there seemed room for uncertainty. But, unhappily, the speculative spirit of the age is too seductive to be easily withstood, and we are every day hearing of families being reduced to absolute poverty, more from mischance than wilful error. But you must not only cheer up, but labor to cheer your husband likewise. Let him find that he possesses a wife who will not display her annoyance at the deprivation of many (perhaps unnecessa^) luxuries of life, and whose determination to economize will make poverty seem less poor, and whose affection will insure him that comfort which the wealthiest position, without undivided affection, would wholly fail to realize. Nor must you look at matters as hopeless. Although changed in your means, you have not lost in character. Your true friends look upon you with the same eyes as formerly, and for the shallow and insincere you ought not, cannot care. Besides, a favorable change must result from your husband's persevering and consistent efforts ; and by the exercise of economy, and the patient submission to a few privations, you may ere long fully retrieve the position you have already adduced, and which legiti- tnately belongs to you. That success and happiness may soon spring out of the present unfavorable condition of things, is the hearty and earnest wish of, Yours ever affectionately, To Mrs. . JACKSON, Miss., May 18, 189-. MY DEAR MADAM : You have long been aware of the painful and serious illness under which your deal sister has been suffering but, perhaps, you have cot been fully sensible of its dangerous tendency, and of the lears always enteitained by those around her, that its termination would be fatal. Would that our fears had been without foundation ; but I am reluctantly compelled to tell you that our worst anticipations have been too mournfully realized, your poor sister having expired (last evening), though, it is consolatory to state, with little bodily suffering. She had borne her affliction with the fortitude of a Christian, and retained her faculties to her last moments, yielding her breath in full peace of mind, and convinced '.hat she was leaving this earthly state for a better and a happier in another world. Your dear mother is in such a state of prostration, that she finds the task of writing to you too painiul for her feelings, and has expressed her wish that I, the intimate friend of your late sister, should be the communicant of the sad intelligence. She desires me to say how much your presence would help to console, not only herself, but also your father, and the whole of the family. They hope, therefore, to see you by the earliest opportunity, and request me to send you their best love. Accept, dear madam, my sincerest condolence under this sad bereavement and affliction, and Believe me to remain, Ever vours, sincerely, To Mrs. THOMAS GRAY'S LETTER ON THE DEATH OF HIS AUNT PROPER FORMS FOR LETTERS. 99 [This letter on the death of his aunt, Mrs. Mary Antrobus, who died the 5th of November, is written by Thomas Gray, the author of the celebrated Elegy in a Country Church Yard, and many other beautiful poems . u.e was a man of great genius and elevated mind, though open to every affection and tender attachment ; he refused with steadiness, the situation of Poet Laureate, which was offered him by the Crown. He was born in 1716, and died in 1771]. The unhappy news I have just received from you equally surprises and afflicts me. I have lost a person I loved very much, and have been used to from my infancy ; but am much more concerned for your loss, the circumstances of which I forbear to dwell upon, as you must be too sensible of them yourself; and will, I fear, more and more need a consolation that no one can give, except He who has preserved her to you so many years, and at last, when it was His pleasure, has taken her from us to Himself; and perhaps if we reflect upon what she left in this life, we may look upon this as an instance of His goodness both to her and to those that loved her. She might have languished many years before your eyes in a continual increase of pain, and totally helpless ; she might have long wished to end her misery, without being able to attain it ; or perhaps even lost all sense and yet continued to breathe, a sad spectacle to such as must have felt more for her than she could have done for herself. However you may deplore your own loss, yet think that she is at last easy and happy ; and has now more occasion to pity us than we her. I hope and beg you will support yourself with that resignation we owe to Him who gave us our being for our good, and who deprives us of it for the same reason. THE COUNTESS OF HERTFORD'S REPLY TO DR. BURNET SIR: I am very sensibly obliged by the kind compassion you express for me, under my heavy affliction. The Meditations you have furnished me with, afford the strongest motives for consolation that can be offered to a person under my unhappy circumstances. The dear lamented son I have lost, was the pride and joy of my heart ; but I hope I may be the more easily excused for having looked on him in this light, since he was not so from the outward advantages he possessed, but from the virtues and rectitude of his mind. The prospects which flattered me, in regard to him, were not drawn from his dis tinguished rank, or from the beauty of his person, but from the hopes that his example would have been serviceable to the cause of virtue, and would have shown the younger part of the world, that it was possible to be cheerful without being foolish or vicious, and to be religious without severity or melancholy. His whole life was one uninter rupted course of duty and affection to his parents ; and when he found the hand cf death upon him, his only regret was to think on the agonies which must rend their hearts ; for he was perfectly contented to leave the world, as his conscience did not reproach him with any presumptuous sins, and he hoped his errors would be forgiven. Thus he resigned his innocent soul into the hands of a merciful Creator on the evening of his birthday, which completed him nineteen. You will not be surprised, sir, that the death of such a son should occasion the deepest sorrow ; yet at the same time it leaves us the most comfortable assurance, that he is happier than our fondest wishes and care could have made him, which must enable us to support the remainder of years which it shall please God to allot for us here without murmuring or discontent, and quicken our endeavors to prepare ourselves to follow to that happy place where out dear valuable child is gone before us. I beg the continuance of your prayers, and am, Sir, yours, etc., IOO RULES OF ETIQUETTE FOR ALL OCCASIONS. FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL TO A MOTHER ON THE DEATH OF HER CHILD LEAMINGTON, December 10, 189-. DEAR, DEAR MRS. SMITH : What can I do but just weep with you ! I can only guess what this sorrow is. Only I know it must be the greatest, except one, which could come to you. That dear little, beautiful thing ! He looked so sweet and happy when I saw him ; no baby face ever haunted me as, somehow, his did. If you could only see him now, how beautiful he must be now that he has seen Jesus, and shines in the light of God. It is even more wonderful to think of that great transition for a baby than for a grown person ; one cannot imagine the sudden expansion into such knowledge and conscious joy. ? I was looking back this morning upon long memories of soul- trials, years of groping and stumbling and longing, sinning and sorrowing, of heart weariness and faintness, temptation, and failure ; all these things which I suppose every Christian must pass through, more or less, at some stage or other on the way home ; and the first distinct thought which came through the surprise and sorrow at the sad news was, "That dear little redeemed one is spared all this, taken home without any of these roughest rough nesses of the way ; he will never fear doubt or sin, never grieve his Saviour. Is it not the very best and kindest thing that tender Saviour could do for him ? Only it is not what you meant when you prayed that he might be his own. But better he is with him at once and forever, and waiting for you to come home. I am only writing all this because my heart is full, and must pour out a little. I know we cannot comfort, only Jesus can ; and I shall go and plead long and intensely for this as soon as I have closed my letter. He must be specially " touched " in such a sorrow, for he knows by actual experience what human love is. Three such great sorrows in one year ! How specially he must be watching you in this furnace ! Yours with deepest sympathy, PRESENTATION OF A WATCH ANSWER LETTERS ACCOMPANYING GIFTS. PITTSBURGH, Pa., Nov. 3, 189-. MR. WILLIAM MCLEAN. The valuable service which you have long rendered to the firm whose names are subscribed below, calls for a formal acknowledgment. While it must be evident to you that we have appreciated your personal qualities and the efficiency you have shown in our employ, it affords us pleasure to send you a more substantial testimonial than mere words can convey. Please accept the accompanying watch as an expression of our good will and oui sense of the eminent service you have rendered. Sincerely yours, JOHN HAWSER, ") B. G. BERGEN, [ Hercules Iron Company. EDMUND DAY, _) MR. WILLIAM MCLEAN. BELLEFONTE, PA., Nov. 5, 189-. MESSRS. JOHN HAWSER, B. G. BERGEN, EDMUND DAY : GENTLEMEN I hardly know which is the greater, my gratification or surprise, at the beautiful and unexpected gift just received from your hands. Words seem too cold to to express my thanks and the pleasure I feel at receiving such a testimonial to my services. PROPER FORMS FOR LETTERS. 101 Gentlemen, through the twenty years during which we have been associated, I have found you upright and honorable ; and this token of your esteem increases, ii that were possible, the high regard I have always entertained for you. Believe me, with sentiments of profound respect, Your faithful servant, To the Hercules Iron Co. WILLIAM McLEAN. Miss GOULD : Please accept the flowers herewith sent, with the wish that your pathway in life ACCOMPANYING may always be strewn with roses. Sincerely, your friend, A BOUQUET JAMES GLENWOOD. PHILADELPHIA, May 20, 189-. MY DEAR MRS. PRICE : May I request your acceptance of the inclosed tickets for the afternoon performance MATINEE at the Academy to-day ? I am sure you and the young ladies would enjoy the play (The Old Homestead). I am just leaving town, or would call in person. Yours most truly, MRS. M. E. PRICE, 404 Crown Street. HENRY BAKER. TRENTON, May 10, 189-. MR. J. B. DAVIS, Akron, O. DEAR FRIEND : I send you what you have so often asked for a photograph of myself. I think it ACCMPANYING j , ., MI 1 J 4.1. 4 t. i* t- j j A PHOTOGRAPH a good one, and hope it will please you, and that when you see it you may be reminded of the many pleasant hours we have spent together. Write and tell me what you think of it. Yours sincerely, ELLA WEBSTER. AKRON, O., June i, 189-. DEAR Miss WEBSTER : Thanks for the capital likeness of your well-remembered face, which has just reached ft F PL V TO THE ABOVE me - ^ e expression is perfect. Hamlet tells Horatio that he can see his father with his " mind's eye, " but though the memory is tenacious of the images of those who are dear to us, a good portrait of a friend seems to bring the face more palpably before us than any exercise of the mental vision. I shall keep the picture where I can pay my respects to it daily, and hope soon to see the fascinating original of which it is the shadow. Yours faithfully, J. B. DAVIS. MATRON BELLEVUE HOSPITAL : I send you fifty baskets of fruit and flowers, which you will please distribute among tb- 6 sufferers who receive the benefit of your patient care and loving sympathy. Trust' ing these gifts will bring some measure of good cheer to the poor unfortunates in yout hospital wards, I remain, etc., NEW YORK, May 27th. MRS. RUSSELL SAGE. VO2 TO A POOR FAM'LY FROM A GENTLEMAN TO A LADY WITH WHOM KE IS IN LOVE THE LADY'S ANSWER ANSWER TO THE PRECEDING RULES OF ETIQUETTE FOR ALI OCCASIONS. DEAR MRS. MOTT : The parcel herewith sent will express to you my sympathy in your misforttms. My heart would do more if the ability were not wanting. Believe me, yours most sincerely, LOVE LETTERS. BEAR Miss : I have three times attempted to give you a verbal relation of the contents of this letter ; but my heart as otten failed. I know not in what light it may be considered, only if I can form any notion of my own heart from the impression made upon it by your many amiable accomplishments, my happiness in this world will, in s great measure, depend on your answer. My circumstances are independent, my character hitherto unblemished, of which you shall have the most undoubted proof. You have already seen some of my relations at your aunt's in Blank street, particularly my mother, with whom I now live. Youf aunt will inform you concerning our family, and if it is to your satisfaction, I shall not only consider myself extremely happy, but shall also make it the principal study of my future life, to spend my days in the company of her whom I do prefer to all others in che world. I shall wait for your answer with the utmost impatience. Most sincerely, your real admirer, DEAR SIR : I received your letter last night, and as it was on a subject I had not yet any thoughts of, you will not wonder when I tell you I was a good deal surprised. Although I have seen and familiarly conversed with you at different times, yet I had not the most distant thoughts of your making proposals of such a nature. Some of your sex have often asserted that we are fond of flattery, and very much pleased with praise ; I shall therefore suppose you one of that class, and excuse you for those encomiums bestowed upon me in your letter : but I am afraid, were I to comply with your proposals, you would soon be convinced that the charms you mention, and seem to value so much, are merely exterior appearances, which like the summer's flower, will very soon fade, and all those mighty professions of love will end, at last, either in indifference, or which is worse, disgust. An appearance of sincerity runs through your letter, but there is one particular to which I have a very strong objection ; you say that you live with your mother, yet you do not say that you have either communicated your sentiments to her or to your othej relations. 1 must freely and honestly tell you, that as I would not disoblige my own relations, neither would I, on any consideration, admit of any addresses contrary to the inclinations of yours. If you can clear up this to my satisfaction, I shall send you a more explicit answer, and am, Your most obedient, humble servant, DEAR Miss : I return you a thousand thanks for your letter, and it is with the greatest pleasure I can clear up to your satisfaction the matter you doubted of. Before I wrote to you I communicated the affair to my two cousins, but had not courage enough to mention it to my mother, but that is now over, and nothing, she says, would give her greater pleasure than to see me married to a young lady of your amiable character. But to convince you of my sincerity, she has sent the enclosed, written with her own hand, I solemnly assure you I am totally ignorant of its contents, except that she told me ii was in approbation of my suit. If you will give me leave to wait on you, I shall thej& be able to explain things more particularly. l remain, as ever, you-*" real lover PROPER FORMS FOR LETTERS. 103 FROM THE GENTLEMAN'S MOTHER TO THE LADY THE ANSWER THE YOUNG LADY TO THE YOUNG GENTLEMAN F ROM THE SAME DEAR Miss : If you find anything in these lines improperly written you will Ccuiaidly excuse it as coming from the hands of a parent, in behalf of an only, beloved, and dutiful son. My dear Charles has told me that you have made such an impression on him, that he knows not how to be happy in any one else, and it gives me great happiness to find that he has placed his affections on so worthy an object. Indeed it has been my principal study to instruct him in the principles of our holy religion ; well knowing that those who do not fear God will never pay any regard to domestic duties. His father died when his son was only ten months old, and being deprived of the parent, all my conso lation was that I had his image left in the boy. I nursed him with all the tenderness possible, and even taught him to read and write. When he was of a proper age I sent him to a boarding school, and afterwards to college. Since his return he has resided constantly with me, and his conduct to every one with whom he has had any connection has been equal to my utmost wishes. At present, my dear girl, I am in a very sickly condition, and although I have concealed "" from him, yet, in all human probability, my time in this world will not be long. Excuse the indulgent partiality of a mother, when I tell you it is my real opinion you can never place your affection on a more worthy young man than my son. He is endowed with more real worth than thousands of others whom I have known ; and I have been told of instances of his benevolence which he has industriously concealed. I have only to add further, that the only worldly consideration now upon my mind is to see him happily married, and then my whole attention shall be fixed on that place where I hope we shall all enjoy eternal felicity. I am, dear Miss, Your sincere well wisher, DEAR MADAM : I will excuse the fondness 01 a tender mother for her only child. Before I received yours I had heard of the unaffected piety and the many accomplishments of your son, so that I was in no way surprised at what you said concerning him. I do assure you, madam, that I would prefer an alliance with you before even nobility itself, and I think it must be my own fault if I ever repent calling you mother. I was going to say, that you had known but few pleasures in this life, to be deprived of your husband so soon, and the rest of your life spent under so many infirmities. But your letter convinces me that you have felt more real pleasure in the practice of virtue, and resignation to the Divine Will, than ever can be had in any, nay, even the greatest temporal enjoyments. I have sent enclosed a few lines to your son, to which I refer you for a more explicit answer. I remain, your sincere well wisher, MY DEAR CHARLES : I received yours, together with one enclosed from your mother, and congratulate you on the happiness you have had in being brought up under so pious and indulgent a parent. I hope that her conduct will be a pattern for you to copy after, in the whole course of your future life ; it is virtue alone which can make you happy. With respect to myself, I freely acknowledge that I have not at present any reason to reject your offer, although I cannot give you a positive answer until I have first consulted with my guardian. Monday next you may be sure of hearing from me ; meanwhile I cannot do less than sub scribe myself, Most affectionately yours, MY DEAR CHARLES : In my last I told you that you should hear from me soon, and therefore I now sit down to fulfill my promise. I communicated your proposal to Mr. , who, after he had written to his correspondent in , told me as follows ; RULES OF ETIQUETTE FOR ALL OCCASIONS. "Miss, I have inquired concerning the young gentleman, and the information I have received is such, that I not only approve of your choice, but must confess that if I did not do everything in my power to forward your union, I should be acting contrary to the request of your father, when he lay on his death bed. You ma)-," said he " com municate this to your lover as soon as you please, and may every happiness attend you both in time and eternity." And now, have I not told you enough ? Some, perhaps, might think too much ; but I am determined to begin with as much sincerity as I could wish to practice if standing in the presence of my Maker. To expect the same from you is reasonable ; I look for it, and shall be very unhappy if disappointed. But I will hope for the best, and doubt not but the religious education bestowed on you by your worthy mother, will operate on the whole of your future conduct in life. You may, therefore, lay aside the tedious formality of courtship and write to me as your future wife. Yours with the greatest affection, FROM A LADY TO A GENTLEMAN COMPLAINING OF HIS INDIFFERENCE SIR: However light you may make of promises, yet I am foolish enough to consider xhen> as something more than mere trifles ; and am likewise induced to believe that the man who voluntarily breaks a promise, will not pay much regard to an oath ; and if so, in what light must I consider your conduct ? Did I not give you my promise to be yours, and had you no other reason for soliciting \:'uan merely to gratify your own vanity ? A brutal gratification, indeed, to triumph over the weakness of a woman whose greatest fault was that she loved you. I say loved you, for it was in consequence of that passion I first consented to become yours. Has your conduct, sir, been consistent with my submission, or your solemn profes sion? Is it consistent with the character of a gentleman, first to obtain a woman's consent, and afterwards boast that he had discarded her, and found one more agreeable to his wishes ? Do not equivocate ; I have too convincing proofs of your insincerity ; I saw you yesterday walking with Miss , and am informed that you have proposed marriage to her. Whatever you may think, sir, I have a spirit of disdain, and even of resentment, equal to your ingratitude, and can treat the wretch with a proper indifference, who can make so slight a matter of the most solemn promises. Miss may become your w ; fe ; but the superstructure cannot be lasting which is built on such a foundation. I leave* you to the sting of your own conscience. I am the INJURED. A GENTLEMAN TO THE LADY'S MOTHER DEAR SIR : Having made an application to your beloved daughter for her hand, she has given her consent, provided you and her mother will condescend to sanction it. This, I flatter myself, you will do, my circumstances, family, and character, being well known to you both. I shall only add, that my happiness or misery through life depends upon your reply ; and that I will make any settlement upon your dear daughter which you may judge necessary. My happiness will be founded on the promoting of hers, with the possession of your esteem and approbation. Entreating you to give a favorable reply, I have the honor, my dear -sir, to subscribe myself, Your humble servant, THE FATHER'S ANSWER MY DEAR SIR : In reply to the letter you did me the honor of writing, I must remark, that neither my wife nor myself have ever interfered with the wishes of our excellent daughter ; her whole conduct being governed with such prudence that no room was left for advice. PROPER FORMS FOR LETTERS. 105 Your affection being mutual, we have only to observe that we shall be highly gratified in giving our girl to you, and we doubt not but that you will enjoy as much happiness in the married state as this life will admit of. In regard to ourselves, you may be assured that you possess our respect and affection ; were this not the case, we should not so readily resign to your protection our greatest treasure. My good wife entirely coincides with what I have said ; we shall, therefore, expect to see you on next, when everything shall be arranged for your union. I am, dear sir, Yours, very affectionately, THE GENTLEMAN 10 THE LADY, INCLOSING HER FATHER'S REPLY MY DEAREST HARRIET : I cannot adequately express the happiness I feel, in finding that my letter to your respected parents has been crowned with success, and I flatter myself, notwithstanding your temporizing with my feelings, in thus reserving your avowal of a reciprocal attachment, that you, my dear girl, will not be unsusceptible to its value, but condescend to acknowledge an equal happiness with myself at its contents. In token of the confi dence with which your dear letter has inspired me, I beg leave to present you with a trifle, the acceptance of which will be highly flattering to him whose image it portrays ; and permit me the fond pleasure of indulging a belief that my lovely Harriet will esteem the trifle, in affectionate remembrance of the original. In obedience to your father's command, I shall wait upon him at the appointed time ; till then, my beloved Harriet, adieu. Ever your devoted admirer, A WIDOW, IN ANSWER TO PROPOSALS DEAR SIR : I take the first opportunity of acknowledging the receipt of the flattering letter with which you have favored me. You wish to know whether I am willing to enter again into the marriage state, and in the event of my being so, whether I should be adverse to admitting you in the quality of a suitor. I assure you, sir, I feel flattered by the latter question ; and as to the former, I can only say that I have no dislike to entering again into that state. But our acquaintance is at present imperfect, and we are comparatively strangers to each other's tastes and tempers. I need scarcely observe that an intimate knowledge of such matters is absolutely requisite, before we can decide whether we are fitted for enjoying together a partnership in life. Meanwhile, I have no objection to allowing such freedom of acquaintance as shall enable us both to arrive at this knowledge, and can therefore only say, in conclusion, that the commence ment of your addresses will meet with no obstacle from, Dear Sir, Yours most faithfully, To , Esq. IN THE NEGATfVE DEAR SIR : I have just perused the flattering letter with which you have favored me. Of late, whilst enjoying the pleasure of your company, I have not failed to observe that your behavior towards myself has been more than ordinarily attentive, and that on more than one occasion you have rendered yourself of essential service to my interests. Such conduct has not failed in attaining my favor and friendship, but has not had the effect of inspiring a deeper passion a passion which I have totally renounced, whether on account of the advance of years (as the case may be), or of attachment to the memory of my late husband, it is immaterial for me to state. Had I allowed myself to suppose that the attentions to which I have just alluded were prompted by any other feeling io6 RULES OF ETIQUETTE FOR ALL OCCASIONS. ft LOVER'S QUARREL EXPLAINING AWAY AN APPARENT BLIGHT but that of simple friendship, I should certainly have endeavored to repress them Hence you may infer that, while I decline the honor of your addresses, I still remain, with best wishes for your future welfare, Dear Sir, Your sincere friend, To , Ksq. MY DEAR : It is with pain I write to you in aught that can seem like a strain of reproach, but I confess that your conduct last night both surprised and vexed me. Your marked approbation of the attentions paid to you by was as obvious as your neglect of myself. Believe me, I am in no way given to idle jealousy still less am I selfish or unmanly enough to wish to deprive any girl on whom I have so firmly fixed my affec tions of any pleasure to be obtained in good society. But my peace of mind would be lost forever did I believe that I have lost one atom of your affection. Pray write, and assure me that you still preserve your undivided affection for, Your devoted but grieved, MY DEAREST : How grieved am I that you should think me capable of wavering in my affection towards you, and inflicting a slight upon one in whom my whole hopes of happiness are centered ! Believe me, my attentions to Miss were never intended for anything more than common courtes}'. My long acquaintance with her father, and my knowledge of her amiable character as Avell as the circumstance of her being a comparative stranger to the 's, such were my sole reasons for paying more attention to her than I might otherwise have done. Pray rest confident in the belief that my affection for you is as unchanging as my regret is great that I should ever have given you cause to doubt it, and believe me, Dearest, yours ever sincerely and devotedly, THE DAUGHTER DEAR SIR : As I scorn to act in any manner that may bring reproach upon myself and family, FATHER ON HIS an & hold clandestine proceedings unbecoming in any man of character, I take the liberty ATTACHMENT TO of distinctly avowing my love for your daughter, and humbly request your permission to pay her my addresses, as I flatter myself my family and expectancies will be found not unworthy of your notice. I have some reason to imagine that I am not altogether disagreeable to your daughter ; but I assure you, honestly, that I have not as yet endeavored to win her affections, fa r fear it might be repugnant to a father'^ will. I am, Sir, Your most obedient servant, A FATHER'S ANSWER IN THE NEGATIVE IN THE AFFIRMATIVE DEAR SIR : I make no doubt of the truth of your assertions, relative to yourself, character, and connections ; but as I think my daughter too young to enter into such a serious engage- 1 ment, I request I may hear no more of your passion for the present ; in every other respect, I am, Sir, Your most obedient, DEAR SIR : There is so much candor and honor apparent in 3^our letter, that to withhold my consent would be both ungenerous and unjust. As the duty of a father demands, I shall first make some necessary inquiries, assuring you that I would never oppose my PROPER FORMS FOR LETTERS. daughter's choice, except I had some very just reason to imagine it would be productive of ill consequences, for I am convinced that in the marriage state, happiness consists only in reciprocal affection . You may, therefore, depend upon hearing from me in a few days ; till then I remain Your very faithful servant, Miss FROM A I must send you one more communication, to say that I could never wish to secure LOVER the hand of a lady who did not reciprocate my affection. I bow to your decision, and ' content myself with the reflection that ' ' there are as good fish in the sea as ever were caught, " and as good, I believe, as the one who disdains to nibble my hook. While my attentions have been sincere, I am not likely to die of disappointment, and do not intend to give any occasion for such an epitaph on my tombstone as : Hete lies a jilted lover. Very truly yours. FORMS FOB WEDDING CARDS AND INVITATIONS. . /Knt'. vv . , & es your prospective spouse will help. No othei aid in resisting temptation and inspiring to good equals that of a loving, loved woman Break off from your cronyisms, clubs, so cieties, all engagements except such as mean imperative, cold-blooded business. Your new ties furnish an excellent excuse. All you? I2O COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. spare time and small change are wanted for her. To give to bad habits the time and money due to her and setting up in life, is outrageous. Bend everything to your new regions, them to nothing. Now's your time to turn over a new leaf, and turn all the angles, corners, and right-about faces needed. Affianced maiden, you have some depart ures to take and corners to turn. Your life has till now been frivolous, but has now be come serious. You have no more need of toilet fineries ; for " your market is made," and you have work on hand far more im portant, namely, fitting yourself for your new duties. Find out what they demand of you, and set right about making a premium wife and mother. Both begin life anew. Forgetting the past, plant and sow now what you would gather and become always. Woman is man's choicest treasure. That is the most precious which confers the most happiness. She is adapted to render him incomparably happier than any other terres trial possession. He can enjoy luscious peaches, melting pears, crack horses, dollars, and other things innumerable; but a well- sexed man can enjoy woman most of all. He is poor indeed, and takes little pleasure in this life, be his possessions and social position what they may, who takes no pleasure with her. All description utterly fails to express the varied and exultant en joyments God has engrafted into a right sexual state. Only few experiences can attest how many and great, from infancy to death, and throughout eternity Usel All God could do He has done to rendei sex superlatively happy in the other. Of all his beautiful and perfect works, this is the most beautiful and perfect Of all his be nignant devices, this is his most benign. All the divine attributes, all human happiness, converge in male and female adaptations to mutual enjoyments. Each is correspondingly precious to the other. Man should prize many things, yet woman is his pearl of greatest price. He should preserve, cherish, husband many life possessions, but woman the most He has many jewels in his crown of glory, but she is his gem-jewel, his diadem. What mascu line luxury equals making women in gener al, and the loved one in particular, happy? Beginning and conducting courtship as this chapter directs, avoiding the errors and following the directions it specifies, will just as surely render all superlatively happy as sun will rise to-morrow. Scan their sense. Do they not expound nature's love-initiat ing" and consummating ordinances? Are they not worthy of being put into practice? Discordants, can you not trace many of your antagonisms and miseries to their ignorant violation? Parents, what are they worth to put into your children's hands, to forewarn them against carelessly, ignoraiitly, spoiling their marriage? Young ladies, what are they worth to you, as showing you how to so treat your admirers as to gain and re double their heart's devotion? Young men, what are these warnings and teachings worth to you? God in his natural laws will blest all who practice, curse all who violate them CHAPTER XIIL Who are, and are not, Adapted to Each Other peers. As it FAMILY is a great affair. As a commodity, a production, a life- work, an achievement, it has no Its power over man is supreme, is, so is all else human. As a "speculation," a "venture," if well con ducted, it is the most "paying enterprise," yields better " dividends," and is every way more "profitable" than any other "line of business" in which mortals can "invest." Those who possess the capital should procure a " round-trip " ticket for this matrimonial excursion,, It will take you around and through the world in better style, and show you finer " prospects " than any other. Of all the achievements man can accom plish, all the works he can do, and missions fulfil, this stands first. He who has founded a family among men has done vastly more than he who has founded a useful manufac tory, or established a " commercial house," or amassed great wealth. To own broad acres, deeds, corner lots, bonds, is something ; but you childless millionaires are "poor critters," in comparison with those who own a superb family. That is incomparably the very finest piece of "property" within human reach. He who "owns" a good wife, she who "possesses" a good husband, and that married pair who have a "clear dtle" to smart and rosy little ones, with a iomicile and necessaries " thrown in," may justly be prouder, carry their heads higher, and " feel their oats " more than any other occupants of this whole earth, childless kings not excepted. To establish a family, shall float along down the stream of time, to originate human interests, and helf to create human history, exceeds wearing childless crowns. What realm equals the family kingdom? What governor-general is as absolute as its sovereign head ? 01 what obedience as willing or complete, because accorded by love? Gardens filled with roses are beautiful, and rich fruits luscious, yet paradise " was not arrayed like one of these" families. How should it be " gotten-up," and man aged? One poorly conducted is a pool affair. Wisdom in nothing is as much needed or as all-important as in starting and regulating a family " enterprise." God ordained the family, and therefore its natural laws, and thereby a family science, as much as a mathematical, or any other ; for which, exultant thanks to its Author. Obey ing these laws renders a happy family just as sure as to-morrow's sun ; because both are equally induced by inflexible causation. The only possible cause of domestic unhap- piness is the breach of these laws. Those who follow them need have no more fear of domestic unhappiness than that the sun will turn backwards. Learning how is the first step. Novices should be careful how they undertake it, just as children should not play carelessly with sharp tools ; and all should learn how to use this "instrument" of extreme weal or woe before they begin to tamper with it ; which is often quite young. Where can men learn how a family should be founded and conducted? Strange that whilst every other department of science hat, lit T22 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. been explored, family science remains still enshrouded in Egyptian darkness. Scholars, where have you been groping, that you have not discovered this field of human research ? Writers, where have been your pens? Cler gymen, where are your eyes and tongues that you thus ignore it? CHAUNCEY M. DEPEW. Strong, compact body; large perceptive faculties and language; fine social qualities, oratorical gifts and business capacities. Self-preparation is first, just as preparing the ground is the first step towards obtaining a crop ; and the next, selection of a right sexual mate; and this chapter has for its object to show how to take this step ( ust right. Periodicity is a universal institute of Na ture. It controls every function of the uni verse ; and governs all the motions of all the heavenly bodies, with all the functions of all that lives. Sun, moon, stars, seasons, days, and nights come and go at their appointed periods. There is a natural "time for every thing under the sun." All plants, animals, and human beings have their infancy, adoles cence, maturity, decline, and death. These periods are inherent, and inwrought through out all their respective functions. There is a time to sow and reap, be born, grow, decay, and die. And what is planted or done in its natural season prospers far better than out The True Time to Choose and Wed. Love has its natural period, and prospers better when it is observed. And it has but one right time, which is exactly right, be cause appointed by Nature. She is perfect, so are all her works ; her love-works inclu ded. To a complete love, this observance of her natural times and seasons is indispensa- hie. True, though one may make an excel lent crop of cotton or corn, even if planted out of time, yet how much better that same crop if planted when Nature ordains ? Then, when is Nature's best time for planting the seeds of love ? " You should marry at once. You'll need a family at forty." "Fifty will be in season. I propose to marry then." " That will be like planting corn in Au gust You had better give it more time to grow" The sexual function matures lat*^r than the digestive or muscular ; because its earliei development would be useless, yet retard growth. Boys and girls like each othei some, but how much stronger is appetite than love, and love years after than at puberty? The sexuality slumbers on till quickened by puberty, which re-increases it till eighteen 01 twenty, when the body is well grown and consolidated; bones become dense, and theii gristly joints hardened up; muscles full- sized and tort ; and mental faculties fully es tablished. Love now begins to assert sov ereign control. No puppy love, no "juve nile and tender" fancy, but a deep, strong, all-controlling and mature affection inspires and electrifies the whole being, and furnishes WHO ARE, AND ARE NOT, ADAPTED TO EACH OTHER. 123 inhabits the human structure, taking that helm which governs every part Old Boys and Girls. Precocity is an American misfortune. Wrong physical habits, tea, coffee, condi ments, tobacco, want of exercise, our hot house school system, alcoholic stimulants, etc., make mere boys and girls petit men and women, and prematurely light and fan the fires of sexual excitement. Our boys must become young gentlemen almost as soon as they cease to be babies ; must hurry into and through college ; smoke, chew, drink, swear, carouse, before puberty ; have a love affair, and practice all the vices while yet mere boys; make and lose a fortune during their teens ; and know more evil at thirteen than their fathers did at thirty ; and therefore blight before twenty. This renders their love-appetite violent yet dainty, so that straws turn it. Soon after it begins to taste the sweets of love it fancies its lover neg lectful, or partial to another, which a hearty love would never have noticed. Previous starvation also often induces both sudden and premature love. If boys were duly loved and fondled by mother and aunt, and girls similarly by father and uncles, and if this faculty were duly cultivated in lads, lasses, and young folks, this, its partial exer cise, would so far satisfy it in the bud as to hold back love proper a year or two longer, and mitigate its violence ; whereas its juve nile suppression renders it so ravenous that it greedily devours whatever food is offered. Elders, consider this point, and compare it with your experience. By all means let girls be girls till Nature makes them women. Girlhood is quite as essentially antecedent to womanhood as is the growth of fruits to their ripening. A girl's weak, becauce immature, love is easily reversed, which a riper would surmount Those very elements of discord which dis gust her at sixteen, might be tolerated, per* haps enjoyed, by the ripened instincts oi twenty. She is less in danger of contract ing ailments by a marriage at twenty thai? before eighteen ; besides being much less ?ve Fever. By all this instinctive love fervor ind power, does God, in her nature, command her to fulfil it in marriage, to which alone it gravitates and is adapted. By this " de sire " God commands her to marry then. After twenty the female organism manu factures a large surplus of organic material, and unless she marries and bears, sexual star vation or else inflammation inevitably super venes. She may find partial salvation in loving without marriage or maternity ; but feeds this element only on husks, in place of the bread and fruits of love. Nature com mands woman to live for her husband and children, and she who disobeys induces pen alties she cannot afford to incur. Her mating period is infinitely precious. By all means let her make love-hay while her love-sun shines and bloom lasts. The younger they are the longer they may court whilst love ripens ; but the more mature it is the sooner they should marry. Up to twenty-two, those who propose mar riage should be about the same age ; yet a difference of fifteen years, after the youngest is twenty-five, need not prevent a marriage, when everything else is favorable. But a tuan of forty-five may marry a woman of twenty-six or upwards much more safely ;han one of thirty a girl below twenty ; for her natural coyness requires more delicate treatment than his abruptness is likely to He is apt to err fundamentally by precipitancy, presupposing that her sexuality is as mature as his own Though a man upwards of forty must not marry one below twenty-two, yet a man of fifty may venture to marry a woman of twenty-five, if he is hale and descended from a long-lived ancestry. Still no girl under twenty should ever rn^Ty any man over twenty-six. Differences of Age. The love of an elderly man for a girl is more parental than conjugal ; while hers for him is like that of a daughter for a father, rather than wife for husband. He loves her as a pet, and therefore his inferior, instead of as a woman ; and is compelled to look down upon her as inexperienced, below him in judgment, too often impulsive and un wise ; which obliges him to make too many allowances to be compatible with a genuine union. And she is compelled to look up to him more as one to be reverenced, perhaps feared s and as more good and wise than companion able. Their ideas and feelings must neces sarily be dissimilar. He may indeed pet, flatter, and indulge her as he would a grown daughter, and appreciate her artless inno cence and girlish light-heartedness ; yet all this is not genuine masculine and feminine love ; nor can she exert over him the influ ence every man requires from his wife. Besides a gray-headed husband's gallanting a girlish wife is incongruous. Her assum ing that juvenile gayety so natural to youth, while he is as dignified and high-toned as becomes all elderly gentlemen, is a little like uniting Fall with Spring. All girls should laugh, play, be juvenile, and mingle in young society, and an elderly husband might not want to go to as many parties as his girl-wife. Of course she must stifle her love of company, or else be escorted by a younger, perhaps therefore more .sym pathizing beau, who must play the agreeuble, WHO ARE, AND ARE NOT, ADAPTED TO EACH OTHER. 127 whisper pleasant things, perhaps ex pressions of love, in her willing ear, while she prefers the young beau, and is quite liable to love her husband rather as a father, yet another as a lover. At least those elderly men who marry girls must keep only half an eye half open, and see little even with that. Not that their young consorts are faithless, but that they are exposed to temptation. A young woman deficient in amativeness naturally gravitates towards elderly men ; because their greater age has put theirs on about the same plane with hers. Such girls, therefore, greatly prefer men from twenty to thirty years their seniors. In such cases her preferences may be safely trusted. Seventeen and Forty-two. But a youngish woman had far better marry an elderly man, who is otherwise acceptable, than not to marry at all. If she is satisfied, he should not object. Still, she must look one of these alternatives fairly in the face either to impart to him of her own life stamina to sustain him longer than he could otherwise live, while she dies sooner ; or see him die before her, only to break her heart in case a genuine love exists, or else be obliged to transfer it to another ; from either of which she may well pray to be delivered. There are cases, however, in which girls may marry seniors. One of seventeen fell desperately in love with her teacher of forty- two. Repelled by her cold, stern father, and denied the society of young men, her innate love being strong, it must of course perish or else find some object. Her teacher, an excellent man, without one thought of thereby eliciting her love, nor would he if her father had been affectionate to her, kindly aided her in her studies, especially arithme tic, which masculine kindness, to which she unused, called forth her love for him, on whom it fastened with perfect desperation, To all such the advice should be: "The main objection to your marriage lies on her side. But to break her heart by preventing it, will do her far more injury than marrying her senior ; therefore marry." But these are isolated cases. Better older men marry young women, than young men elderly women ; because paternity continues later in life than mater nity. Circumstances may justify the mar riage of a young man to an elderly woman. A wild, injudicious, imprudent youth of twenty-two, who needed the influence of a mother united with that of a wife, married and lived happily with a widow of thirty- six, and found in her maternal with conju gal affections. An elderly woman, posses sing superior natural excellences, may com pensate for her age by her superiority ; but for a young man to marry an elderly woman's wealth, and long for her death that he may enjoy her moncv, "caps the climax" of "total depravity." Still, an artful woman, who knows just how to play on the amatory feelings of a young man, may so ingratiate herself into his affections that, as with the girl just mentioned, their marriage is best for him. The determining question is, can a right love be established between them ? Your Choice will Make or Unmake You. All must choose, while passing through life, in many and important cases, between right ways and wrong ; paths leading to har> piness and misery, honor and shame, virtue and vice, and their consequences ; yet of all the decisions man can ever make, that re specting conjugal companionship is the most important, because the most eventful for prosperity and adversity, weal and woe, vir tue and vice, in this world and the next. By all the power of a right and a wrong state of 128 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. love, by the very heart's core of life itself, and all its interests, is it important that we select just its very best possible object as re gards general character, and special adapta tion to ourselves. We should select acquain tances wisely, since their aggregate influence HENRY W. GRADY. Motive, mental temperament ; youthful disposition, joined with emotional nature ; well-known " Southern orator." is great ; business partners more so ; and intimate heart-friends still more, because all affect our entire future ; yet the effects of all combined are utterly insignificant when compared with those of our conjugal partner. Nature's externals always correspond with her internals. Genuine beauty signifies ex cellence in fruits, animals, and woman, and of course companionship, including a fine grained organism, as well as moral and intel lectual excellence. Yet prettiness and " fancy touches," often mistaken for beauty, are " only skin deep," and of little practical ac count. Such usually make plainer women than plain girls do. The practical question is, how will she look after she has been a mother, and perhaps become thin and pale ? Marriage is for life, while mere prettines soon fades. But homely women, though ever so good, kind, loving, industrious, and much more, have some imperfection, or lack some female attributes ; while those who have any objec tionable feature will generally have some objectionable trait. Still beauties, again, will do for flirtation with fops. The Stylish Woman. Style is desirable, if well sustained, and does not degenerate into ostentation. Does she appear well in company? Can you in troduce her proudly to your old comrades as your beau-ideal? A pleasing, "taking," attractive address which combines grace with elegance, and charms while it sways, is a great recommendation. Not that we at tempt to analyze good manners, but only call attention to them as very expressive of character; yet affected artificiality, a con strained aping of gentility, indicates a make- believe outside appearance, and want of genuineness ; while a natural, unaffected sim plicity in walk, speech, and manners betokens a truthfulness to nature every way desirable. Dandyism, foppery, broadcloth, ladies, must not be allowed to outweigh true manliness of manner, though perhaps eclipsed by bashful- ness or awkwardness. Has he the rudiments of a good address ? Not, is he, but can he become, polished ? Often internal coarseness assumes a sugar-coated, genteel impudence which provokes laughter, and passes off for the moment, yet discloses long ears. Look below the surface. Women generally over rate forward, but greatly underrate diffident young men. Undue forwardness discloses a familiarity which springs, if not from con tempt of the sex, at least a want of due respect for it; while awkwardness often originates in that exalted worship of it which is indispensable in a husband. WHO ARE, AND ARE NOT, ADAPTED fO EACH OTHER. 129 The expression of talents and worth stands second only to their possession. Conversa tional, speaking, and writing talent can hardly be overrated, yet is almost wholly overlooked. Its manifestation, in whichever form, justly challenges the admiration of the world, past and present, savage and civilized, learned and illiterate ; yet wherein does con versational eloquence differ from forensic, except in the number of its listeners ? Is it not as admirable in the cottage as on the rostrum? Hence, what are his talents for expressing himself? what of her conversa tional powers? are paramount questions, and the answers most significant. Artificial Ninnies. If a plain girl's ideas flow readily, and she clothes them in appropriate and beautiful language, this gift recommends her more than all the boarding-school artificialities and millinery she can exhibit. Does she warm up with her subject, and impart to it a glow, an interest, which delights and in spires? Does she choose words which ex press her precise meaning, and begin her sentences at the right end; or does she bungle both? Is she grammatical; or does she murder the "King's English?" Not, "Can she speak French," but can she talk elegantly ? It matters little whether she has studied grammar, for natural conversational talent will evince itself irrespective of edu cational aids, which of course help. Does she spoil a good story by telling it badly, or so tell every one as to make its point of ap plication emphatic? Is she suggestive ? Does she make you think and feel as she converses? Many object to long female tongues, as given to scandal ; whereas, whether one talks well or ill has absolutely nothing to do with backbiting. Scandal is consequent on a malevolent spirit, not on a "long tongue." One may say a little, but misrepresent that ; O or talk much, yet give a true version. Neglect those girls who, looking through inverted glasses, always represent things as worse than they really are; but patronize pleased and hopeful ones who paint what ever they attempt to say or do in beautiful, handsome colors, and regard things favor ably. Sound Morals in Married Life. A high moral tone, along with uncom promising integrity, is pre-eminently de manded in the conjugal relations. Nothing whatever averts love as soon as this deBci- ency. L,ove must have unlimited confidence, or perish. Moral principle naturally elicits affection, while trickery and all wrong doings are fatal to it. Worst of all, this deficit transmits itself to those dear children on whom you are to dote. To see them grow up comparatively regard less of the right, unrestrained from wrong doing by a high sense of duty, and irrespon sive to conscientious appeals, is indeed most agonizing ; and by all means to be prevented by marrying only those endowed with large conscience. A naturally good temper, or a pleas ant spirit versus a cross-grained, petulant, can hardly be overrated. It makes a world of difference whether a conjugal companion construes everything in the worst light or in the best ; takes things adversely and frets over them, or smooths and makes the best of them is always in a fluster and bustle, or quiet and even-tempered ; uniformly patient, or perpetually scolding ; repelling, or attract ing; irritating, or calming; rough, or gentle; spiteful, or soft; continually creating dis turbances, or making peace; resentfal, or forgiving ; overbearing, or forbearing ; wait ing on, or requiring to be waited on ; claim ing the best for self, or giving it to others ; sending off this brother with a box on the COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. ear, and that with a spiteful push v " Then do as I bid you," or asking 'hem pleasantly for favors. Let scolds alone. Marrying Gelations. Consanguineous marriages deteriorate their issue. This observation is almost universal, through all ages and nations. Christianity, almost from its origin, has interdicted incest. A question thus practically important de serves a scientific solution. The marriage of first cousins among- the isolated valleys of Switzerland, one genera tion after another, is of frequent occurrence, and in these cantons dwarfness, cretinism, idiocy, are disgustingly prevalent In France, such marriages average two per cent., but the issue of dwarf mutes by such marriages, averages twenty-eight per cent. ; and occurs the oftener the nearer the parental relationship. Dr. S. G. Howe's report to the Massachu setts Legislature says : " One twentieth of the idiots were children of cousins, while their marriage is in no such proportion, and all other defects are in like proportion. Seven teen such marriages produced ninety-five children, of which forty-four are idiots, and twelve more puny, or nearly two-thirds in all." Dr. J. G. Spurzheim says: "Scarcely one among the royal families of Europe, who have married in and in for generations, can write a page of consecutive sound sense on any scientific, or literary, or moral subject." Says Dr. Caldwell : " One cause of human deterioration is family marriages. It has almost extinguished most of the royal fami lies of Europe, though at first they were the notables of the land for physical strength, and force of mind and character." An eminent English physician, Dr. Bux- ton, says : " From ten to twelve per cent of our deaf mutes are children of cousins. In 170 consanguineous marriages were 269 deaf or dumb children, and seven in one family." Moses condemns blood marriages even thoiigh he thereby practically censures his national patriarchs; doubtless because of their palpably deteriorating effects. The Koran, the Scriptures of the Moham medans, says: " Ye are forbidden to marry your mothers, and your daughters, and yout sisters, and your aunts, and your cousins, and your foster-sisters, and your wives' mothers." About ten per cent, of the idiocy in Scot land is caused by consanguineous marriages. Permissible Cases. Some authors maintain that such marriages do not degenerate offspring, and cite " breed ing in and in" in proof. Occasionally the children of cousins do indeed manifest supe rior vigor and talents. How can these seem ingly contradictory facts be explained ? Thus : resemblance to the related parentage deteriorates offspring; while two cousins who do not resemble each other, that is, who inherit mainly from those ancestors through which they are not related, may marry with comparative assurance that their offspring will be normal. A strong love between two cousins is good evidence that they are adapted to each other in parentage. Yet there are plenty oi others quite as lovable as cousins, and tht mere risk of impairing offspring is fearful. Some one staminate constituent that which is to all what foundation is to super structure, spinal column to physical frame, oxygen to air, head to body, and sun to solai system, must govern marriage, as it does everything else. What is it ? Sexuality, normal and abundant, alone creates whatever is manly and womanly; attracts and is attracted, loves and awakens love, inspirits and is inspirited, fuses and is WHO ARE, AND ARE NOT, ADAPTED TO EACH OTHER. fused, moulds and is moulded, and both con- r ers life and predetermines its amount. All other conjugal prerequisites sink into insig nificance when compared with this, because it is the summary and embodiment of all ; that which is to all what lime is to mortar, or tendon to muscle. The answer to the questions, " How much mental and physical manhood has this beau as compared with that? how much of a female is this woman as compared with that ? " should mainly deter mine the choice. " Which is the most mag netic, and capable of the deepest, completest devotion, will inspire the most love in me, and call out my manly affections and attri butes ? " is a man's great practical inquiry ; while a woman's should be, "Which is truest to masculine nature, and will bestow the most on me?" not which is the most polite or spruce ? Manly Men and Womanly Women. These are plain questions, but they go to the very core and root of this whole matter. Gender is the base and measure of both companionship and parentage. Those who have this, have " the one thing needful " in marriage ; those who lack this, lack all. By its means, all other differences can readily be adjusted, though unadjustable without it. Those in whom this staminate condition is "all right," however dissimilar in other respects, can live happily together though full of faults; yet those who lack this are unmarriageable, though possessed of every other excellence. Its mere amount is by no means all, for its normal state is also important. Better its abundance, though perverted, than defi ciency, though normal ; because it is far more easily sacrificed than reincreased ; yet how infinitely better that it be both hearty and pure ! A knowing companion can always easily reform it in the other. How important that each knows how to correct its wrong action in the other, and just how to manage the other by its means. Some day this art of arts will be studied. Similar general matrimonial prerequisites might be extended indefinitely ; yet letting these put inquirers on the right track as to EDWARD BELLAMY. Large perceptive faculties ; defective reasoning pow ers, yet bold in conceptions ; strong individuality, and dislikes opposition ; celebrated author. all, please duly consider that all should select the greatest aggregate good, but not reject one on account of minor defects. You are now simply selecting the materials out of which you can make a lovable companion. General heartiness or tameness, energy or passivity, a whole-souled interest in whatever interests at all, or a good easy make, and a right hearty shake of the hand or its mere tender, and all other like signs and functions, should be thrown into one common matri monial equation, and general and specific results deciphered therefrom. One may have a minor flaw, coupled with marked ex cellences, which increase his or her eligibility more than a score of such faults detract therefrom. All should choose the best one available, and then be satisfied. Do not choose one too good, or too far above, for yourself, lest the inferior, by dis satisfying the superior, breed those discords which are worse than mutual satisfaction DISSIPATED HUSBAND. w:tl. those not so highly organized. Don't be too particular ; for you might go farther and fare worse. As far as you yourself are faulty, you should put up with faults. Don't cheat a consort by getting one much better than you can give. We are not in heaven yet, and must put up with their imperfec tions, and instead of grumbling at them be glad they are no worse ; remembering that a faulty one is a great deal better than none. Men are created with different tastes and dispositions. This diversify is the great in strumentality of progress an4 invention, which similar'ty would render impossible. It appertains to talents, feelings, religion, and everything; but most to matrimonial pre erences. As some like one kind of friends, and others another, even liking the very same traits disliked by others ; so one man is captivated by this beauty, whom another considers plain ; one admiring, the other dis liking, the very same features and specialties. Likes and Dislikes. Some men like large, othfcrs small, and still others medium-sized women ; some this complexion, which is odious to others ; and thus of all the other physical qualities. One woman admires, another dislikes, the very same men and attributes. One can hardly tolerate what perfectly fascinates another; and yet both are intelligent, and judge cor rectly and alike in other respects. That same man who is perfectly adapted to make one woman happy, and be happy with her, would be perfectly miserable with another, and render her so ; while a given woman who is perfectly adapted to become an excellent wife to this man, would make a very poor one for that ; those poor for some men being pre cisely what others require. These likes and dislikes are not fitful, but governed by primal laws. Hence, we can predicate with accuracy that this one will like these traits, and that one other qualities. All affectional likes and dislikes are as in stinctive and inflexible as those by which the lion craves raw meat, and the horse oats. Nature adapts particular males and females to each other, and creates a mutual attrac tion between those who are thus adapted. This is one aspect of that great law that appetites are as requirements; or that we love what is best for us. Men and women are diversified in character and tastes, so that while "there's a flower in the garden" adapted to the tastes of each, yet it must be selected and plucked by the one who is at. tracted by its quality, and loves its ever? WHO ARE, AND ARE NOT, ADAPTED TO EACH OTHER. 133 petal and leaf. This is the law of affinities. There are plain rules, founded on common sense, which should govern the choice of husband or wife. Thus, that consumptive, who, by marrying one who is consumptive, "foreordains" the consumption and death of his children, whereas, by marrying one well vitalized, he might have secured robust offspring, is most guilty for this consumptive taint ; and for not entailing robustness. He has no right to leave these eventful conse quences "at loose ends." He is solemnly bound to know beforehand that his wife is not consumptive. What if he is honest, kind, devout, fatherly, and all that, yet did he not cause their death? And is not caus ing it by hereditary entailment as wicked as by poison? What if he knew no better? He should have known. What right has he to subject them to the consequences of a broken hereditary law any more than by throwing them down a precipice to subject them to the broken law of gravity? or cast ing them into the fire to oblige them to suffer its penalties? Hereditary Disease. Since offspring are paramount, and since their original endowments are the great de terminers of their characters ; therefore those are most guilty who so marry as to curse them with bad proclivities, but most blessed who confer good ones. "This looks ahead a great way," you say. Not very far ahead of marriage. Though the results of good and of poor children con tinue as long as you or any of your descend ants exist, whether on this side of death or the other, yet they naturally do and should begin soon after marriage. Again you say, " For young people to thus canvass each other's parental qualities before or during courtship, is at least indeli cate, if not improper." Is Nature " improper "? Is rearing chil dren " indelicate "? Is providing for good children any more " immodest " than for poor? All depends on the manner, nothing on the fact. Nature makes, and therefore you should make children the specific A SOUR DYSPEPTIC. object of all marriage. If this is "indeli, cate," then is being a male or a female im proper, and courting, loving, marrying, and bearing children, immodest. She who looks this only legitimate end of marriage fully in its philosphic face will make an immeasur ably better wife and mother than she could possibly make if her " mock-modesty" ignored it; for this puts her love on the pure, while that leaves it on the squeamish and therefore immodest plane. Those too delicate to ascer tain their parental adaptations to each other are but mockish prudes, and most indelicate. Those whose modesty ignores this kind of information, are quite too modest to marry or bear children at all ; and to be consistent, should never love, or look at the other sex, or even be sexed ; and are welcome to the results of their fastidiousness. Every stage of reproduction, from the fits* 134 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE ANu DOMESTIC LIFE. dawnings of love, through selection, marri- ., paternity, and maternity, is no more indelicate, in itself, than sleeping, except that "as a man thinketh in his heart so is he." No; so choosing, loving, and marry ing as to produce magnificent children, is modest ; while marrying for any other motive Is most decidedly "immodest" MEAN OLD MISER. You, young, pure, wholesome girl, affec tionate, bright, and domestic in your tastes, should not marry a man who has bad habits, or is ever likely to have them. Heaven forbid that you should ever be the wife of a dissipated husband. Persons to be Avoided. You should not receive the attentions of a thin, sallow-faced, sour dyspeptic. His foul stomach will kill the health of yours: I mean that by his gloomy, draggy, low vital ity and cheerless, dismal disposition, he will drive you to dyspepsia or something worse, if there is anything worse, and you will find that you might as well go and be a nurse in a hospital, or live in a graveyard, as to attempt to extract comfort and happiness from your alliance with such a living corpse. Seek a man with good digestion round, full, ruddy if you can find him, genial, as healta is almost sure to be, a live man, not a half dead one. And if you are a dyspeptic, you certainly don't want a dyspeptic husband. I would rather have a pocket-book flat as the traditional pan-cake than to have a caved- in stomach. Young lady, do not marry a mean, miserly man. You might almost as well marry a spendthrift, for in either case you will be lucky if you ever get hold of any money. Men don't wear hair-pins, nor feathers, nor ribbons, nor lace and fringes, and a close- fisted, narrow, miserly man will begrudge every penny you spend. He will grow mean as he grows older. He will tie up his money in an old stocking, and you can go without *f stockings. The Stingy Husband. There are men who dig and scheme, and almost work their life out to "get ahead.' 1 It is a remarkably good thing to get ahead and have money laid up, but not at the ex pense of present comforts and rational pleas ures. These men toil as if tryirp- to keep out of the poor-house, and lay up money, Heaven only knows for what or whom. They starve themselves and families, and when they are gone those who get the money will buy for them the cheapest tomb stone they can get, if any at all. A fine time they have spending the old man's money. One of these misers went one day and told the undertaker that when he died and the undertaker came to* burv him, it must be a pine coffin he couldn't, afford anything better. He had become so accustomed to having everything cheap, that he wanted to die cheap. And you, young man, look out whom you marry. A woman may be of such an age that she is called an "old maid," yet she may WHO ARE, AND ARE NOT, ADAPTED TO EACH OTHER. 135 be twenty-five years younger in heart and hope, courage and industry, than that girl only twenty years old. That girl of twenty may be the old maid crabbed, sour, exact ing, stiff a creature to be avoided her mouth eternally drawn down and her nose turned up keep clear of her ! Give her a wide berth in fact, let her have it all to herself. She will be so prim that neither anybody nor anything will suit her. She will freeze you in July. She is an icicle with a female hat on. To whom is such a person suited? Nobody. Neither is the mean man, nor the pale dyspeptic, nor the dissipated wretch whose hat and windows have holes in them big enough to defy ever being stuffed or mended. Similarity the Cardinal Requisite. Both must be substantially alike. Like likes like, and affiliates with it ; but dislikes Unlike, and fails to intermingle therewith. Do not elephants associate and mate with elephants, wolves with wolves, cattle with cattle, and all animals with those of their own kind, instead of with other kinds? "Birds of a feather flock together." The very rocks affiliate with their own kindred all granite here, all slate there, all marble elsewhere. And human beings like their kind better than beasts, and commune with each other better than with brutes. To argue a point thus clear is superfluous. Similarity is equally the attractive princi ple of all special likes and friendships ; as difference is the repelling of dislikes. Do not the Malay, Ethiopian, Caucasian, and Indian races mingle each with its own race more freely than with any other? Those who love to chew, smoke, stimulate, swear, steal, think, pray, trade, work, love best to associate with those of similar proclivities, no' with those of opposite dispositions. Those of any religious faith attract and are attracted to those of a like faith, as Catho lics, Baptists, Mohammedans, Progressives, Prohibitionists. Clanism is but the instinct ive outworking of this principle. Is not similarity the great bond of all affiliation^ CRABBED OLD MAID. likes, and friendships ; and dissimilarity, of antagonisms? Not only do philosophers fraternize with philosophers, poets with poets, etc.; but individual men and women choose for intimate friends those as nearly like themselves in tastes, doctrines, habits, likes, etc., as possible. Are not those whom friendship's sacred ties bind together drawn to each other by like traits? They love each other because each likes the same things. Christians love Christians, but dislike atheists; while vota ries of any science love students of the same science best. Do you like to commune best with those who perpetually agree with, or contradict you? Let facts, on the largest and most ramified scale, attest. Those who 136 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. dispute this palpable fact are unworthy of notice. Of love this is especially true. Are not its laws identical with those of friendship, of which it is in part composed? Does not love commence in, and consist in part of it? JOSEPH W. FIFER. I/arge, active brain ; nervous mental temperament ; fine grain and magnetic force ; type of self-made man ; Jate Governor of Illinois. This proves that the laws of either are those of the other. Do not men like those women best, and women men, who are the most like themselves ? Do not those of special beliefs love best to commune with those of the same belief? Do talented men love silly women, and superior women weak-minded men, the most? Instead, do not intellectual, pious, and refined rnen like those women best who have like characteristics? Do lovers select each other on account of simi larities? or dissimilarities? Do not those who are religious prefer those who love to worship at their own altar? Do alienations arise from similar, or opposite traits? Two finding themselves alike on certain points, too hastily infer similarity on all points, but soon find those differences which displease and alienate both. If you were to choose again, would you select one similar, or oppo site? As concordant notes delight, but dis cordant pain ; so with concordant and dis cordant spirits. " Oil and Water will not Unite/' Those who have more affection than re* ligion can love in spite of these differences; while the stronger the piety, the greater the necessity that they be religiously alike. Even when sympathetic at marriage, a change in either becomes a wall of separa tion between them. Those alike in other respects may be able to tolerate this differ ence ; yet one who has a low, short-top head, can never satisfy one whose top head is high, wide, and long. Paul well says, "Marry, but only in the Lord." Mark how abso lutely these three 7 aws of mind demonstrate this point : 1. We like what renders us happy, be cause thereof, and in proportion thereto; but hate whatever makes us miserable, be cause of this misery, and in its proportion. This is the only cause and measure of all likes and dislikes, animal and human. In deed, by this involuntary shrinking from pain, and love of enjoyment, nature drives us from disobedience, and attracts us to obedience, of her laws; and has therefore rendered it both necessary in itself, and a universal concomitant of sensation. 2. All normal action of all our faculties makes us happy, all abnormal miserable; and the more so the stronger they are. This is a first law and condition of all happiness and misery. 3. Similar and normal faculties awaken each other agreeably, but dissimilar and ab- norma 1 ones, disagreeably. Thus, large ideality or taste delights large, and \s de lighted by it, but disgusted by small ; and WHO ARE, AND ARE NOT, ADAPTED TO EACH OTHER. thus of each and all the other faculties. One large in beauty, and therefore de- lightQd with perfection, but disgusted with the coarse and slatternly, marries one who has beauty also large, and is therefore con tinually feasting his taste with new manifes tations of elegance and perfection in man ners, expression, and sentiment; besides pointing out to his admiring tastes a con stant succession of fresh beauties in nature, poetry, and character ; thus perpetually re- increasing his happiness by inciting this large faculty ; his large beauty meanwhile as constantly delighting hers; so that their be ing alike in this respect is a constant source of happiness, and therefore means of love to both. Whereas, if he marries one whose deficient taste is constantly tormenting liis refinement, while she suffers constant practi cal reproof from his large beauty, or vice z>ersa, their dissimilarity becomes a per petual eyesore to both. The practical dif ference is heaven-wide between marrying one who is similar, and dissimilar. Mormons for Mormons. A pious woman, whose large worship gives her exquisite pleasure in devotion, marries one who takes equal pleasure in the same worship, both enjoying all the more pleasure in each other, because they love to worship the same God, "under the same vines and fig-trees." Her worship reawak ens his, which makes him happy in her, and therefore love her ; while his, by reawaken ing hers, continually renders her happy in him, and therefore increases her love for him ; whereas if he is an atheist, this differ ence abrades and pains her worship, makes her unhappy in him, and compels her to dislike him ; while his, regarding her piety as superstition, detracts from his happiness in, and therefore love for, her ; and this re ligious discord impairs their union in other respects. Hence, every sect enjoins marry ing within itself, as Mormons, Catholics, Quakers, and many others, to avoid spats and quarrels which would otherwise surely occur. If either loves to ride fast, and the other slow, how can they possibly ride togethei without making one or the other unhappy ? THEODORE THOMAS. Motive temperament ; well-balanced physique ; well known musical director ; adapted to one who is simi larly an enthusiast in music. When one loves dress, parties, style v gayety, or fashion, and the other considers them foolish, or regards them with aversion, can they be as happy in each other, and therefore love each other as well as if both liked or disliked the same things ? If both take delight in pursuing the same studies together, will not this mutual delight rendei them much happier in each other, and there* fore more affectionate, than if one liked but the other disliked the same books? Did not Milton's conjugal difficulty grow out of tffo-similarity ? He was talented, philo sophical, poetical ; but his wife despised what he liked, and liked those gaye^fes which he contemned. 13* COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. If one loves rural or city life the best, both should love the same life ; but if either loves fruits, or flowers, or stock best, the other's loving the same will promote their union, while disliking it will alienate both. If one, having large conscience, scrupu lously loves the right and hates the wrong, while the other, having it small, cares little for either, and is constantly upbraiding the moral sense of the other, how can they live as happily and lovingly together as if both were either scrupulous or unscrupulous? Can he whose large order is delighted by method, and pained by disorder, be as happy in, or loving with, her whose small order is perpetually leaving everything in complete confusion, as if both liked order, or cared little for it ? If one believes in free love, should not both give and take the largest liberties? And what is jealousy, with all its aggravated miseries, but dissimilarity in this essential respect? Is not similarity > even in the wrong, more promotive of con jugal concord, than if one is right and the other wrong, or either condemns what the other likes? Do marked differences render the differing the more happy when loving each other, or the less so ? Let all who love attest. The Cause of Strife. Do you, who are unhappy, repel each other wherein you agree, or afoagree? Do you love the more the more you differ, or the less? Are you unhappy because alike, or unlike ? Do not opposite views always and necessarily engender alienations? In a di vorce suit, do their similarity, or afo-simi- larity cause their collision? Say, further, you who are happily mated, does not your own blessed experience attest that you are happy in, and therefore fond of, each other wherein, because, and in proportion as, you ^ instead of unlike ? Of the social affections, this is doubly true. Let a public example both prove and illustrate this point. Many years ago a fair actress captivated a millionaire, who followed her from city to city, and continent to con= tinent, strewing her stage with rich bouquets and presents, and everywhere tendering hei his hand, heart and immense fortune, till finally, to get rid of his importunities, she married him ; and yet this very suitor sued for a divorce, because, loving her with pas sionate fondness, he required a like affection ate ardor in return ; yet her barely tolerating his ardor, instead of reciprocating it, first chilled, then reversed his love, turning his ardor into animosity, till he hated her as pas sionately as he had before loved ; whereas, if she had loved him as heartily as he her, their mutual happiness and love would have been proportionately complete. As well wed summer to winter, or ice to fire, as those who are passionate to those passionless ; or those who love to caress and be caressed, to those who are distant and reserved ; or one gushing and glowing, to one who is stoical. Unite, they never can. " Birds of a Feather." Nature's universal motto is, " Each after its own kind. " She absolutely must inter dict hybridism, except to a limited degree, so as to preserve each respective class of her pro ductions separate from all others. Universal amalgamation would spoil all. She both keeps her human productions separate from all others, and produces the finest speci mens of manhood and womanhood by the intermixture of those who are sound in health, suited to each other in taste, in intelligence, and able to agree, thus living harmoniously together in true affection ; and the children of dissimilar parentage can almost always be desig nated by their imperfect phrenologies. WHO ARE, AND ARE NOT, ADAPTED TO EACH OTHER. 139 and physiologies, and tendencies to hobby- isms and extremes, while those of similar parentage are homogeneous and harmonious. Dissimilarities Which Improve Love. But some one says : " You certainly misrepresent that Nature you claim to en throne ; for contrasts really do affiliate. The grave frequently love the gay, and gay the grave. How often do the stork- like prefer the dowdy ; spare, fleshy ; posi tive, negative ; Hibernian, stoical ; deter mined, submissive ; slovenly, tidy ; talk ative, demure ; and talented men, affection ate women ; common men, uncommon wo men. Is not this acknowledged Anglo- Saxon superiority traceable directly to the wholesale intermingling of the ancient Britons, Picts, Celts, and Romans, both with each other, and the Normans, Danes, and many more ? Nations not thus crossed, are either stationary or declining, like Spain, India, and all Eastern nations. Is not this influx of foreigners from all Europe, Asia, and Africa into our country its most auspi cious omen of future development? Has not this very crossing law already effected all those recent astonishing improvements attained throughout the animal kingdom, and even the floral and pomal? Did not Van Mons originate every one of his deli cious kinds of pears, now the pride of horti culture and diet of epicurean princes, by ju dicious crossings, yet not one by similarity ? Astonishing improvements have been, and may be, effected by this same union of op- posites, instead of similarities. Something is wrong somewhere. " Parental balance is the great condition of progenal perfection. Proportion is a para mount natural law. Nature maintains equi libriums throughout all her productions and functions. All vegetable and sylvan roots and tops are and must be in proportion to each other ; because each produces the other. Cut off either without also amputating the other, and you damage it that much. Cut down the top, and the root dies from self- gorging ; or amputate roots, as in transplant ing trees, without trimming top equally, and NORSE SEA-KING. Strong masculine organization, with prominent nose, brawny muscles and resolute bearing ; splendid type of force, will, daring, and ability to rule. they languish ; but cut off as much top in resetting as root in digging up, and they scarcely mind the change. Exercise^ breath ing, digestion, circulation, perspiration, ex cretion, sleep, etc., always are and must be in proportion to each other. Increasing 01 diminishing exercise increases or diminishes them all. Head and body must be equally balanced as to each other ; else precocity or obesity ensues ; and all the mental powers must be equilibrious to all ; else a warped judgment, and idiosyncrasy of character and conduct must follow. The whole, not merely a part, is to be considered. Nature works wonders in maintaining this balance where it exists, and establishing it 140 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. wnere it does not. She will not let one part of any of her productions greatly predomin ate over the other parts; but ordains that there shall be about as much strength in the stomach as head, and in the heart and mus cles as either, but no more in either than in AN IDIOT. Offspring of two sluggish parents, both weak ment ally and physically. all the others ; and strive to bring whatever is seriously disproportionate back to equili brium. To create it along with life is her great aim. And she begins early in and by love's selec tions themselves ; causing those who are in balance to choose those like themselves, and those not, to select those who offset their ex tremes, mental and physical. Both the law itself and the end subserved, seem almost too plain to need even illustration ; yet the su perlative importance of this law demands our giving enough examples of it to make it fully understood. The more so, since it will show many discordants that, and why, their very " bones of contention " should be gnawed to gether amicably, as having a great deal of conjugal meat on them for their mutual rel ish and nourishment. Both doctrines are substantially correct That of similarity is applicable to one set of cases, while that of dissimilarity is tne l of another. Principles thus important, and governing human interests as momentous as love, selection, and offspring, deserve those copious illustrations which shall show pre cisely what qualities each one should select. From a task thus critical, one might well shrink, unless guided by unmistakable natural laws. "When Physical Dissimilarities are Best. Nature has her inside and outside circles, which man must not transcend, but within which she allows full liberty. Thus those about average in height and weight may marry those who are about average, or in either extreme; while those in either ex treme should marry opposites, in order to average their children. Thus very tall men love very short women, in order that then children may be neither ; whereas, if very tall men should marry very tall women, this doubling would render their children incon veniently spindling. Coarse, powerful, loggy, and easy tempera ments must not marry similar, lest their children be still lower. The accompanying engraving, of one of four idiotic children,, furnishes a practical illustration of the evils of the union of two low ones. Though both his parents passed tolerably well in society, and were fairly sensible and in telligent, yet all their children were non compos mentis, and this one so much a fool that he could never even feed himself, whereas, if each parent had married a more spicy temperament, their children would doubtless have been brighter and better than themselves, instead of as now, lower. How often are a strong, robust, coarse, shaggy-locked, red-faced, powerful man, and most exquisitely susceptible, fme-giained s delicate, refined, and pure-minded woman } drawn together? One would think hej WHO ARE, AND ARE NOT, ADAPTED TO EACH OTHER. dtficacy would revolt at his coarseness, and his power despise her exquisiteness. What attracts them? Her need of animality. By presupposition her delicate organism has about exhausted her sparse fund of vitality, so that she is perishing for want of this first requisite of life, and naturally gravitates to one who eliminates sufficient animal mag netism to support both ; so that she literally lives on his surplus animal warmth and vital ity, he being all the better for this draft; while she pays him back by refining and a double amount of energy over those who are either small and excitable, or large and sluggish. Great sizes, along with extreme susceptibility, expend too much power, ?,nd hence should intermarry with those at k-ast good-sized, in order to balance their trndue ardor with the other's coolness and power. If escorting a woman of more commanding appearance than himself should mortify a small man, he should feel proud that he could win one his physical superior, and had better mortify himself a little, than, hi* MISMATED. Both nervous, lean, irritable, dyspeptic ; constant frictions in married life, each exasperating the Other; not suited to each other ; each should have married one more robust, patient and amiable. devating him; and their children inherit his powerful animal organism, along with her exquisite taste and moral tone ; and are therefore far better than if both parents were powerfully animalized, or both exquisitely emotional. "What Sizes Should Mate. Size is one measure of power, and nervous Excitability, of its expenditure. Hence those Who are both large and excitable will expend children always. Yet she need not exceed him much in stature, especially if prominent- featured and rather large framed ; for a good- sized woman is but little larger than a small sized man. Yet the wife of a large man' really should have a large mouth, and a tough, enduring temperament, with good muscles. Tom Thumb, a dwarf himself, confessed to a most marked preference for good-sized 142 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. women ; and his child by his dwarf wife weighed only two pounds at birth, lingered, and died. " lyittle folks" must not marry little, unless they are willing to have still smaller children ; but must marry good-sized, and their chil dren will be medium. I, so very excitable that my surplus exci tability becomes a source of pain to me, marry a woman equally excitable. Of course her excitability perpetually provokes mine, which thus makes me miserable with her, which makes me dislike her; while mine redoubles hers, which makes her miserable with me, which makes her dislike me; while our children, if we had any, besides being so extremely fiery-tempered that there is no doing anything with them, would also be so irritable physically that the first breath of disease would blow them into a premature grave in a day. They would die almost before we knew they were sick; whereas, per contra, if I marry a calm, patient woman, whose quiet, gentle, forbearing tones and spirit soothe my excitability, this would make me happy in her, and therefore love her; while my surplus excitability would tone up her passivity, which would make her happy in me, and therefore love me; and both contribute greatly to our having children, render them midway between both, well-balanced, and both likely to live, and harmonious and excellent ; besides their soothing me, and exhilarating her. Two very excitable persons rarely produce chil dren; that very fire which would render their issue poor, cutting off their power to have any. Tom Thumb and Commodore Nutt furnish like applications of this prevention as to size. This illustration expounds a law applicable to all the extremes of all, which should govern all marital selections. You violate it at your own, mate's and children's peril. How beautiful nature's plan for preventing poor children, and obviating the faults, and promoting the excellences, of all future gen erations. Mark our next point as bearing on this. Should Those Tainted with Disease Marry,* and Whom? Shall those tainted with any diseases or deformities, physical or mental, or those hereditarily predisposed to theft, lust, or any other vices, be allowed, or allow themselves to marry? Rev. Dr. Bartoll, an excellent authority, says : "If we would have no monsters about us, let not idiots or insane pair, or scrofulous or consumptives, those soaked in alcohol or conceived in lust, entering the world dis eased in body or mind, or overweighed with any propensity or passion, be allowed to marry, any more than we would have a nur sery for wolves and bears, or cultivate poj* soiious ivy, deadly night-shade, or apple-fern in the inclosures of our houses, our yards and fields. Society, by righteous custom, if not by statute law, has a right to prevent, to forbid the multiplication of monstrous specimens of humanity. That mewling, puking, drooling, wailing baby ought not tc exist ; it is no blessing, but a curse of nature and God on the misdoing cf men and wo men." George Combe takes like, though not equally extreme ground ; and himself post poned marriage and married a wife after both were too old to become parents,. Thousands entertain like views, and abstain from marriage lest they entail diseases or deformities on issue. Some go even further, and argue that only the best should be al lowed to procreate, as in animals. This question is too personally important to too many not to be adjudicated on first principles. WHO ARE, AND ARE NOT, ADAPTED TO EACH OTHER. 143 Most who can, may multiply; because progeny is as natural a birthright as eating. All our faculties were created only to act. As a right to exercise lungs, stomach, mus cles, eyes, etc., accompanies their bestowal; so a right to exercise every mental faculty inheres in their birthright possession. Shall human authority forbid what divine more than permits imperiously commands, and even necessitates? How can society prevent? Those inter dicted would rebel, and seek clandestinely that intercourse forbidden them by law, and leave illegitimate issue if denied legitimate. Shall the law many only those men and women sexually and morally vigorous? and emasculate all inferior boy babies? How would it be possible to draw the lines impar tially as to who should and who should not suffer the surrender of these marital rights? Or what their rules of allowing and inter dicting? The difficulties in the way of such a course are insurmountable. Nature Does Her Work Well. God adjudicates this identical matter by His natural law, in rendering childless all who cannot have children much better than none. Harlots rarely become mothers, be cause their depravities would make their issue worthless. All infants endowed with strength enough to be born, can, by proper regimen, attain a full human life, and die of old age. Nature will not begin what she cannot consummate, provided she is allowed her own facilities, and generally interdicts parentage to those either too young, too old, too debilitated, or diseased anywhere, or de formed, or depraved, to impart sufficient of all the human functions to enable their chil dren, by a right hygiene, to live to a good age, and well worthy to inhabit her " prem ises." By this simple arrangement she fore stalls all those diseases, deformities, and marked imperfections which would other wise impair, if not spoil, universal humanity. " Passably good, or none ; nothing, rather than bad," are her mottoes. When God thus speaks, let man silently acquiesce ; nor human law interdict what natural law both licenses and enjoins. Marrying opposites, the point we are urg ing, will generally give good children, if any, or at least the luxury of marriage. Two extremely excitable persons are not likely to become parents together, especially if both are extra amorous ; whereas, both could be fruitful with a calm, cool partner. Two predisposed to consumption might be barren, or have consumptive children; yet, by marrying robust partners, parent good children. Weakness Should Marry Strength. By a right application of this law, those predisposed to insanity may become the pa rents of perfectly healthy children. Indeed, talanted men are often descended from a family so extremely susceptible on one side as to be almost crack-brained, but on the other endowed with extreme physical hardi hood; their children inheriting their men tality from the highly organized side, along with the physiology of the hardy ; whereas, if both parents had been thus gifted, their offspring would not have possessed sufficient animal power to manifest their commanding talents, but have died on the threshold of distinction ; so that even insane proclivities need not be an absolute bairier to marriage with a stoical or phlegmatic person. Those of consumptive tendency may mar ry, but only opposites. If such a man mar ries a woman having extra good lungs, she will both supply him with needed vitality, and also transmit good lungs to their mutual children, who will inherit from him that mentality which accompanies consumptive 144 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. proclivities, superadded to her abundant vitality, and may entirely escape all con sumptive proclivities, as though born of parents having no consumptive taint. By a judicious application of this law, all other hereditary tendencies may be obviated, and <2ven replaced with excellent characteristics. JAMES RANDOLPH. Slim neck ; long face ; sharp features ; type of " old- fashioned consumptive ; " unfortunate organization. All required is, that when either is weakly or unsound in any particular respect, the other should be sound and vigorous in this same respect. Like weaknesses in the other party must by all means be scrupulously avoided. Or even one parent may be pre disposed to one disease, and the other to another, yet their children escape both, pro vided the predisposition in each is offset by <&pposite physical qualities in the other ; though when not thus onset, they are in great danger of inheriting the diseases of both. But when both parents are predis posed to consumption, their children are still more so. A spare, thin-chested, consumptive neigh bor, who married into a consumptive family, buried his wife of consumption after she had borne seven children, and has buried his last child but one of this disease, two lovely daughters on the eve of marriage, and ex pects every spring to bury this remaining one, thus inflicting untold agony on himself and his entire family ; whereas, if he had selected a well-vitalized wife, all his children would have been born robust, and lived to bless themselves, him, and mankind. Mean while, he piously regards this penalty of a broken natural law as a "dispensation of divine Providence. " What pious blas phemy' What a libel on the Divine government ! To illustrate through the eye: James Randolph, a brilliant writer, died of con sumption; and his subjoined likeness furn ishes a good illustration of those hered itarily tainted with this disease; namely, spare, slim, thin-faced and lipped, long-faced, sharp-featured, and sunken below the eyes. Now, let him marry one having a robust form. Yet he must not dare marry Miss Slim, though much the smarter woman. Of course all should be the more thankful the better constituted they are ; yet those least endowed should exult in possessing even the poorest constitutions, rather than none, and make the best of what they have. What Parents Transmit. Nature never transmits disease, but only weakly organs. Thus the children of parents, however consumptive, are seldom born with diseased lungs, but only with them small, or susceptible ; so that if they generate disease by violating the health laws, it settles on these weak organs, and superinduces disease. The real cause of their death is not heredi tary proclivities, but infractions of the health laws, without which this hereditary tendency WHO ARE, AND ARE NOT, ADAPTED TO EACH OTHER. 145 would have remained dormant. Nature will not transmit any actual disease, local or general, but only weakness or susceptibility. And then she counterbalances even these, by always obliging strong organs to succor weak ones ; and likewise by causing the weakest to grow the fastest; on the principle that over-eating induces sleep, by withdrawing energy from the brain, nerves, and muscles to aid the over-taxed stomach. And linger ing diseases consume all the strong and sound organs before death ensues. Weakly organs, when the health-laws are fulfilled, grow stronger with age ; thus both repelling disease, and completing a good, fair human life. How often do feeble children, by virtue of this law of growth, become stronger as they grow older, and make healthy adults ? What Deformities are, and are not, Obj ectionable. This principle applies to all other diseased proclivities, yet is too obvious to need am plification in a physical direction. There fore few need abstain from marriage lest they taint their issue ; yet those thus tainted absolutely must marry opposites; and then cultivate both their own and children's weak organs. These two simple conditions, car ried out, would rid the world, in the very next generation, of all forms and degrees of hereditary diseases. How beautiful is this natural provision, and how infinitely impor tant, yet almost wholly overlooked ! Of looks we say nothing, because each can judge for him and herself how far their tastes are offended by this deformity and that. Their impairment of issue alone concerns our subject. Of this there is little danger. The children of those whose teeth have been extracted have just as good teeth as others ; and thus of amputated limbs, lost eyes, etc. Maimed soldiers will have just as good children as if they had not been 10 maimed. The children of humpbacks, male and female, will be just as straight-backed as if their parents were straight. The children of a woman with one leg shortened by a sprain, or a white swelling, are no more likely to be similarly deformed than if both her limbs were alike. ANIMAL ORGANISM. Low intellect ; sensual features ; bad temper ; type l human brute. Birth-marks, such as facial and other blotches, club-feet, etc., rarely descend. Any girl is just as marriageable with them as without. Yet such poor girls are usually "let alone" by men, for they love physical perfection in women ; who love those men deformed about as well as if they were per fect. These birth-marks are objectionable which penetrate the grain, and injure the organism. Those whose mother's fright sapped their brain and blunted their senses will parent flats, if any. But a sexually healthy hump back girl will bear better children than a straight one sexually impaired. Temperaments, Forms, Noses, etc. Since few have well-balanced heads or bodies, most require to marry their opposites in one or more respects. Almost all have too much brain for body, or body for brain ; 146 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. or else too much or too little respiration, or digestion, or circulation, or muscle, for their other physical functions. Those who are medium in complexion, stature, etc., who are neither extra dark nor light, large nor small, tall nor short, lean nor fat, etc., may marry those who are medium, Or nearly like themselves in these respects, or in either extreme, or a little more or less so than themselves. Thus, those whose hair is neither dark nor light, but about midway between both, may marry those who are a shade darker or lighter than themselves, or a good deal darker or lighter, or even jet black or bright red, as they may fancy, or as other circumstances may favor most, the complexion being not especially material ; yet the darker one is, the lighter his or her companion should be. Certain Opposites Should Combincc Bright red hair should marry jet black, and Jet black auburn, or bright red. And the more red-faced and bearded or impulsive a man, the more dark, calm, cool and quiet should his wife be ; and vice versa. The florid should not marry the florid, but those who are dark in proportion as they them selves are light. Red-whiskered men should marry bru nettes but not blondes ; the color of the whiskers being more determinate of the tem perament than that of the hair. The color of the eyes is still more impor tant. Gray eyes must marry some other color, almost any other, except gray ; and so of blue, dark, hazel, etc. Those very fleshy should not marry those 'equally so, but those too spare and slim ; and this is doubly true of females. A spare man is much better adapted to a fleshy woman than a round-favored man. Two who are short, thick-set, and stocky, should not unite in marriage, but should choose those differ ently constituted ; but on no account one &/ their own make. And, in general, those predisposed to corpulence are therefore less inclined to marriage. Those with little hair or beard should marry those whose hair is naturally abun dant ; still, those who once had plenty, but who have lost it, may marry those who are either bald or have but little ; for in this, as in all other cases, all depends on what one is by Nature, little on present states. Those whose motive-temperament decidedly predominates, who are bony, only moderately fleshy, quite prominent-featured, Roman- nosed, and muscular, should not marry those similarly formed, but those either sanguine or nervous, or a compound of both ; for be ing more strong than susceptible or emo tional, they both require that their own emo tions should be perpetually prompted by an emotional companion, and that their children also be endowed with the emotional from the other parent. That is, those who are cool should marry those who are impulsive and susceptible. Small, nervous men must not marry little nervous or sanguine women, lest both they and their children have quite too much of the hot-headed and impulsive, and die sud denly. Generally, ladies who are small are therefore more eagerly sought than large. Of course this general fact has its exceptions. Some are small hereditarily, others rendered so by extra action in some form, over-study, over-work, or passional excitement ; because during growth, their intense nervous systems consumed energy faster than their weak vital could manufacture it ; which dwarfed their stature. Webster preferred little women ; he coarsej they fine ; he powerful, they susceptible ; his love animal, theirs more sentimental; h* forcible ' ^ley ^liant Short, rotund, srnaU WHO ARE, AND ARE NOT, ADAPTED TO EACH OTHER. boned women attract and are attracted to tall and spare men; while slender women absolutely must wed stocky, wide-jowled, broad-shouldered men. Two very beautiful persons rarely do or should marry ; nor two extra homely. The feet is a little singular that very handsome women, who of course can have their pick, rarely marry good-looking men, but gener ally give preference to those who are homely ; because that exquisiteness in which beauty originates, naturally blends with that power which accompanies huge noses, and dispro portionate features. Psyche loved Apollo desperately, says Mythology, on account of his beauty. Now this must hive been purely imaginary. No woman thu^ beautiful ever loved a handsome man, if she could find any other. Psyche would naturally choose a man of talents rather than of a good physique ; and a right homely and even awkward man need not fear a refusal, if he is only powerful, original, logical, and smart. Rapid movers, speakers, laughers, etc., should marry those who are calm and de liberate, and impulsives those who are stoical ; while those who are medium may marry those who are either or neither, as they prefer. Masculine women, who inherit their fathers looks, stature, appearance, and phy sique mainly, should give preference to men who take most after mother, physically; whilst women cast strongly after their mother, should marry those men in whom the masculine form and physiology super- abound. Noses indicate characters by indicating the organisms and temperaments. Accordingly, those noses especially marked either way, should marry those having opposite nasal characteristics. Roman noses are adapted to those which turn up, and pug noses, to those turning down; while straight noses may marry either. Narrow nostrils indicate small lungs. Such are adapted to those with broad nostrils, which accompany large lungs atu} vital organs. AN IGNORAMUS. , narrow head ; animal face ; obstinate disposi tion ; entirely unsuited to an educated, well endowed woman. President John Adams lived in the most poetic affection with his wife over half a century. He had all the signs of a vigorous sexuality, along with that harmonious even ness which would neither give nor take offence. He was so splendidly sexed that any and all women would love him ; be sides being talented, moral, and most appre ciative of the sex. He was best adapted to a woman rather tall, certainly not oval, but especially refined. A little irritability was his only fault. Heavy lower jaws, which signify animal vigor are adapted to light ; but two with heavy jowls would create too animal oft spring ; and two thin ones, those too feeble physically to become, accomplish, or enjoy much. Large mouths and lips signify hearty sex- ualities. Small mouths in females are poorly adapted to large-featured, bony, broad-built, robust men. No two with narrow, retreating 148 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. should marry; but such should pair off with those which are broad, prominent, and projecting downward. Two having fine soft hair and skin are not as well adapted in marriage as those having one the coarser, the other the finer ; lest their offspring should be too exquisitely organized A JAIL-BIRD. Vicious face ; large head in the rear and defective in front; mouth drawn down at the corners and nose thrust forward as if to explore other people's business. for their strength ; nor should two very coarse-haired, lest their children prove too coarse and animal ; yet those whose hair and skin are average, may marry fine, or coarse, or medium. Curls should not marry curls except those easily taken off but should select those whose hair lies so close and smooth as to fairly shine ; while wavy hair is adapted to either or neither. These cases are instanced, among thou sands of like ones, less on their own account than as illustrations of the law involved ; which, once understood, becomes a guide in all other cases. Still, none should be re jected because of some minor conditions, provided the great outline characteristics are all right. A right mental adaption is, however, as much more important than a right physical, as, the transmission of the mind is than that of the body. Gender, too, inheres mainly in the mind. Then what laws govern mental affiliations ? What Mental Traits Harmonize and Antagonize. Those which govern physical. In theii great outline they must be substantially alike. Thus, a savage and a civilized do not harmonize as well as two savages, or two who are civilized. No instances of genuine affec tion obtain among all the marriages of white men with squaws, or African, or Malay wo men, except where the latter have been first civilized. Could a bigoted heathen love a bigoted Christian ? The more either sets by their religion, the less they would set by each other. Not only must Chinese marry Chinese, a Turk a Turk, and a Christian a Christian, but those of the same Christian faith must marry those of like tenets. Catho lics naturally blend with Catholics, and Pro testants with Protestants, never with those of opposite faith. That instance cannot be cited in which an extreme Catholic lives happily with an extreme Protestant. Each must attend their own church, which init iates a religious divorce, and this breeds separation on all other points ; besides, each will persist that their children shall be edu cated in their own faith, but not in that of the other. Protestants affiliate with their own sect the most readily. Presbyterians love Pres byterians, and Episcopalians attract and are attracted to Episcopalians, Methodists to Methodists, Baptists to Baptists, and thus of Unitarians, Trinitarians, Arians, Nothing arians, Universalists, Spiritualists, Deists. Atheists. Let all who have ever loved, and are religious, attest whether similar religious views did not become a bond of union, and dissimilar, of antagonism. WHO ARE, AND ARE NOT, ADAPTED TO EACH OTHER. 149 Conflicting beliefs can love each other when their sexual attraction is sufficient to overcome religious differences ; yet religi ous harmony increases, and differences di minish, their natural assimilation. So great is this sexual attraction, that a savage man and civilized woman can live happily to gether ; yet how much more cordially could savage live with savage, and one of his own tribe, and civilized with civilized, and one of their own or like mode of civilization. Even those of different nationalities will find their national differences a source of many more discords than concords, and should marry only when love is sufficiently strong to overrule this national antagonism. "A Cold, Distant Man." Lack of affection in both will render their marriage and offspring tame, even though both are talented and moral. At least one should be affectionate, better if both are ; ^ her lot is hard, who, with warm, gushing affection, is repulsed when she expresses it $h who dearly loves to be caressed and fondled, should be ; and if she marries a cold, distant man, whose love is merely personal, she must expect to pine and starve, and dispense, during maternity, with that sympathy and tenderness so much needed. Few are perfect, mentally and sentimen tally ; therefore most require to offset their excesses and defects by marrying those unlike themselves. They must be sufficiently alike, in the majority of their great outline charac teristics, to fuse their differences ; but since almost all have too much or little caution, kindness, selfishness, taste, justice, etc., most need to marry those unlike themselves, in one or more respects. Evenly-balanced heads may marry either those well or poorly balanced, yet prefer those well balanced. Those who marry even, may expect their children to be good, yet not remarkable ; those who marry con trasts, may look for those of bolder outlines, who will be noted for something special. Yet if these differences are considerable, they produce miserably balanced children, usually unfortunate and unhappy. OBSTINACY. Law, wide head; small moral faculties compered with the baser ; wide, firmly set jaws, and mouth that shuts like an iron vise ; self-willed and tyrannical. Men of the Feminine Gender. Strongly feminized men, who inherit after mother or grandmother, should marry strongly masculinized women, who take chiefly after their fathers, so as to secure both the male and female characteristics. Dependent and vine-like women are always drawn most to positive, firm, wilful, authori tative men, who love to command, and take the responsibility ; while strongly feminized men need "strong-minded," forcible women those related to the Amazons to assume the responsibility, and spur on to effort; yet some of this class require to marry men who are still firmer than themselves, and forcible enough to create deference. A woman, to love a man well, must look up to him wf.th respect ; yet all women despise weak, vacil lating men. No woman who has much feminine intuition can possibly love a putty man. Men who love to command, must be especially careful not to marry imperious, 150 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. women's-rights women ; while those who willingly "obey orders," need just such. Some men require a wife who shall take their part ; yet all who do not need strong- willed women, should be careful how they inarry them. Unless you love to be opposed, be careful not to marry one who often argues and talks back ; for discussion before marri age becomes obstinacy after. "A Crooked Stick. " A sensible woman should not marry an obstinate but injudicious, unintelligent man ; because she cannot long endure to see and help him blindly follow his poor, but spurn her good, plans. Though such men need just such women to help lay out their life-course, while such women could get on passably vith such husbands who heeded their sug gestions ; yet such men plan poorly, blindly follow their own wills, and authoritatively compel their wives to help carry them out. Obstinate men must be sensible, or else content with wives and children who are not If they could only realize that such women are just the very ones they require, yet that they should always ask and heed their advice, they would render their wives' position most agreeable instead of painful, and every way most promotive of their mutual happiness and success. How im portant a change would be effected by this apparently trifling condition ! A submissive bat intellectual woman may marry a man whose will is stronger, even though his intellect is smaller, than hers ; yet it is better for both if his intellect is still larger than hers, so that she may repose in his superior judgment. Such a woman feels inadequate to assume responsibilities or set herself at work, and must have some guide. Naturally dependent, she must lean, though even on a crooked stick. Fortun ately, however, she can adapt herself to al most any man. Hence, if her second hu& band should be totally different from her first, and third from either, she could yet conform to each with equal ease ; and if force is large, will work most effectually and willingly with- and for him, however opposite their specialties; besides quietly adapting herself to extreme vicissitudes, by making the best of what is. Such, especially if love is large, make the very best of wives, be cause efficient and sensible, yet affectionate and conformable. And there are many such. The reserved or secretive should marry the frank. A cunning man cannot endure the least artifice in a wife. Those who are non-committal must marry those who are de monstrative ; else however much they may love, neither will feel sure as to the other's affections, and each will distrust the other, while their children will be deceitful. Those who are frank and confiding also need to be constantly forewarned by those who are sus picious. Lack of Resolution. A timid woman should never many a hesitating man, lest, like frightened children, each keep perpetually re-alarming the other by imaginary fears ; nor yet a careless man, for he would commit just indiscretions enough to keep her in perpetual " fear and trembling ; " but should marry one who is bold, yet judicious, so that her intellect, by reposing in his tried judgment, can feel safe, and let her trust in him quiet her natural fearfulness. A hopeless man should marry a resolute, hopeful woman, who is always telling how well things are going to turn out, and en couraging, and who has sufficient judgment to be allowed the reins, lest the fears of both render him pusillanimous, and their children cowards. Many men live tame lives, though WHO ARE, AND ARE NOT, ADAPTED TO EACH OTHER. abundantly capable of accomplishing almost anything, because too irresolute to once begin; whereas, with a judicious yet ex pectant wife to prompt them to take initia tory steps, they would fill responsible posi tions. An industrious, thrifty, hard-working man should marry a woman tolerably saving and industrious. As the " almighty dollar " is now the great motor-wheel of humanity, that to which most husbands devote both to enjoy them together. Indeed, a good appetite in both can often be made to harmonize other discordant points, and promote concord. Men large in beauty should by no means? marry women deficient in it ; yet women in whom it is large may marry men in whom it is only fair, provided other traits are favorable ; for a man of taste can never en dure a slattern, while a woman of taste can bear with a man who is careless of appear- FAMILY JARS. An ill-tempereu pair ; neither considerate or amiable ; neither self-possessed and quiet when the other is enraged ; too much alike in disposition, petulant, excitable, unreasoning, proving constantly die infelicities of married life ; both human snapping-turtles. entire lives, to delve alone is uphill work. Much more if she indulges in ex travagance. It is doubly important, there fore, that both work together pecuniarily. But if either has property enough to create in both a feeling of contentment, large ac quisition in the other is less important ; yet a difference here often engenders opposition elsewhere. Good livers should marry he to provide table luxuries,- she to serve them up, and ances, and love him, provided he has suffi cient power and stamina of character to eclipse this defect by his sterling character istics ; yet he must let her "fix him up nicely. " An Untidy Wife. A clergyman of commanding talents, su perior eloquence, and the highest moral worth, was publicly described as likely to marry a woman of superior taste, refine ment, personal neatness, beauty, elegance of COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. manners, poetry, and many other like ex pressions denoting large beauty ; whereas she was the reverse ; but he lived unhappily, and spent much of his time from home, be cause he could not endure her coarseness and slatternly habits, and never took her out. He had married her money, and was any thing but conjugally mated or happy; so that the prediction was right in principle. The rule was proved by the evils consequent on its violation. Animal love excessive in both, prompts to that over-indulgence which breaks down the nervous systems of both, and renders their children too impulsive, fiery, and ani mal; whereas, when one is passionate and the other passive, the former will inspire pas sion in the latter, yet be toned down by the passive one; while their children will unite the Platonic love of the latter with the im passioned of the former, and be better than either ; whereas, its deficiency in both renders progeny too tamely constituted ever to enjoy or accomplish much. The irritable, yet approbative; must by no means marry those like themselves, lest the irritability of each, by blaming the other rouse mutual resentment. Yet if such are married, both must be especially careful how they cast any reflections; because the other party construes them to mean much more than was intended. Prob ably more conjugal animosities originate in this wounded ambition than in any other faculty. Nothing as effectually rouses and intensifies every existing antagonism. Pride is a good thing, but must be respected and humored, at least not upbraided, or mor tified. Even if a man can gratify a woman's love of style and display, he must not cen sure her in private, unless he is willing to kindle her hate, and spoil their children. Fault-finding beaux and girls during courtship, are sure to scold intolerably after marriage. If your moderate ambition can endure censure, marry; but if not, take timely warning from "straws." One who is hard to please before marriage, will be much harder after ; while one who patiently endures and forbears during courtship, will be more so after marriage, if kept in a love mood; and a beau who insists on having his way before, will be dogmatical if not domineering after ; and must marry a meek, patient, accommodating woman. This counterbalancing law also governs the intellectual faculties. If a man who has large perceptives with small reflectives, marries a woman having large reflectives with small perceptives, since both transmit, what is strongest in themselves, their chil dren will inherit his large perceptives along with her large reflectives; thus possess ing the perfections of both, unmarred by the imperfections of either. He can re member, but not think; while she can think, but not remember ; yet their children can both think and remember. This like wise improves their copartnership. If he,' unable to plan, should marry one equally deficient in causation, all their attempts must fail, because poorly devised; whereas prosperity now attends them, because her large causality does up the planning foi both, and his perceptives the perceiving ; so that both prosper much better together than if alike, or either separately. This is true of memory and judgment, of language and sense, of poetry and philosophy, of each and all the intellectual capacities, so that these offsettings can be made to improve all mar riages as well as offspring. When both have the same defects their offspring will shovi these defects in a greater degree. CHAPTER XIV. The Model Wife. JTQ makes the best wife? Not a weak, forceless, stupid, uneducated, giddy creature. The best wife has certain marked traits and characteristics, which every man should look for before put ting his foot in any "entangling alliance," and failing to find, should pause and not go s single step farther. One of these traits is industry. By in- dustry I do not mean merely laboriousness, jffierely labor or activity of body, for pur poses of gain or of saving ; for there may be industry amongst those whc have more money than they know well what to do with, and there may be lazy ladies, as well as lazy farmers' and tradesmen's wives. There is no state of life in which industry In a wife is not necessary to the happiness and prosperity of the family, at the head of the household affairs of which she is placed. If she be lazy there will be lazy servants, and which is a great dea! worse, children habitually lazy ; everything, however neces sary to be done, will be put off to the last moment ; then it will be done badly, and in many cases not at all ; the dinner will be too late-, the journey or the visit will be tardy ; inconveniences of all sorts will be continu ally arising ; there will always be a heavy arreai of things unperformed ; and this, even amongst the most wealthy of all, is a great nurse; 101 if they have no business imposed upon them by necessity, they make business for themselves; life would be unbearable without it; and therefore a lazy woman must always be a curse, be her rank or sta tion what it may. But who is to tell whether a gill wfl! make an industrious woman? How is the purblind lover especially, to be able to ascer tain whether she, whose smiles and dimples, and bewitching lips have half bereft him of his senses ; how is he to be able to judge, from anything that he can see, whether the be?oved object will be industrious or lazy? Why, it is very difficult ; it is a matter that reason has very little to do with ; but there are, nevertheless, certain outward and visible signs, from which a man, not wholly de prived of the use of his reason, may form a pretty accurate judgment as to this matter. It was a story in Philadelphia, some years ago, that a young man, \vho was courting one of three sisters, happened to be on a visit to her, when all the three were present, and when one said to the others, " I wondei where our needle is." Upon which he with drew, as soon as was consistent with the rules of politeness, resolved never to think more of a girl who possessed a needle only in partnership, and who, it appeared, was not too well informed as to the place where even that share was deposited. This was, to be sure, a very flagrant in stance of a want of industry; for if the third part of the use of a needle satisfied her when single, it was reasonable to anticipate that marriage would banish that useful im plement altogether. But such instances are seldom suffered to come in contact with the eyes and ears of the lover, to disguise all defects from wliom is the great business, not only of the girl herself but of her whole family 133 154 COURTSHIP, MARrviAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. There are, however, certain outward signs, which, if attended to with care, will serve as pretty sure guides. And, first, if you find the tongue lazy, you may be nearly certain that the hands and feet are the same. By teziness of the tongue I do not mean silence ; MARION HARLAND. Strong motive-mental temperament; breadth and Mlness of brain ; marked intellectual development ; square face and form of mouth showing decision and determination ; appearance of robust health ; suited to a man of moderate force and firmness ; well-known authoress. I do not mean an absence of talk, for that is, in most cases, very good ; but I mean a slow and soft utterance ; a sort of sighing out of the words instead of speaking them ; a sort of letting the sounds fall out, as if the party were sick at stomach. The pronunciation of an industrious person is generally quick, distinct, and the voice, if not strong, firm at the least. Not masculine ; as feminine as possible; not a croak nor a bawl, but a quick, distinct, and sound voice. In this whole world nothing is much more hateful than a female's under-jaw lazily moving up and down, and letting out a long string of half- articulate sounds. It is impossible for any man who has any spirit in, him, to love such a woman for any length of time, or find a congenial companion. Look a little, also, at the labors of the teeth, for these correspond with those of the other members of the body, and with the operations of the mind. " Quick at meals, quick at work, " is a saying as old as the hills, in this, the most industrious nation upon earth ; and never was there a truer saying. Another mark of industry is, a quick step, and a somewhat heavy tread, showing that the foot comes down with a hearty good will ; and if the body lean a little forward, and the eyes keep steadily in the same direc tion, while the feet are going, so much the better, for these discover earnestness to arrive at the intended point. I do not like, and I never liked, your sauntering, soft-stepping girls, who move as if they were perfectly in different as to the result ; and, as to the love part of the story, whoever expects ardent and lasting affection from one of these sauntering girls, will, when too late, find his mistake : the character runs the same all the way through ; and no man ever yet saw a saun tering girl, who did not, when married, make a mawkish wife, and a cold-hearted mother ; cared very little for either husband or children ; and, of course, having no store of those blessings which are the natural re sources to apply to in sickness and in o\* age, Up with the Lark. Early rising is another mark of industry; and though, in the higher situations of life, it may be of no importance in a mere pecuniary point of view, it is, even there, of importance in other respects; for it is, I should imagine, pretty difficult to keep love alive towards a woman who never sees the dew, never behol Js the rising sun, and wha constantly comes directly from a reeking bed to the breakfast table, and there chews with- THE MODEL WIFE. 155 out appetite the choicest morsels of human food. A man might, perhaps, endure this for a month or two, without being dis gusted ; but that is ample allowance of time. A.nd as to people where a living and a pro vision for children is to be sought by labor of some sort or other, late rising in the wife is certain ruin ; and never was there yet an early rising wife who had been a late rising girl. If brought up to late rising, she will like It; it will be her habit; she will, when married, never want excuses for indulging in the habit. At first she will be indulged with out bonds ; to make a change afterwards will be difficult ; it will be deemed a wrong done to her ; she will ascribe it to diminished af fection ; a quarrel must ensue, or the husband must submit to be ruined, or, at the very least, to see half the fruit of his labor snored and lounged away. And is this being rigid ? is it being harsh ? Is it being hard upon a woman ? Is it the offspring of the frigid severity of age? It is ' none of these : it arises from an ardent desire to promote the happiness, and to add to the natural, legitimate, and salutary influence of the female sex. The tendency of this advice is to promote the preservation of their health ; to prolong the duration of their beauty ; to cause them to be beloved to the last day of their lives; and to give them, during the whole of those lives, weight and consequence, of which laziness would render them wholly unworthy. "A Penny Saved is a Penny Earned." Frugality is another good trait. This means the contrary of extravagance. It does not mean stinginess ; it does not mean a, pinching of the stomach, nor a stripping of the back ; but it means abstaining from all unnecessary expenditure, and all unnec essary use of goods of any and of every sort ; and a quality of great importance o it is, whether the rank in life be high or low. How many men have been ruined and de graded by the extravagance of their wives! More frequently by their own extravagance, perhaps ; but, in numerous instances, by thai KATE FIELD. Nervous-mental temperament; quick perceptfonsf acute intellectual qualities; features, particularly the nose^ indicating push and enterprise ; active and ag gressive ; correspondent and writer on dress-reform. of those whose duty it is to assist in uphold ing their stations by husbanding their for tunes. If this be the case amongst the opulent, who have estates to draw upon, what must be the consequences of a want of frugality in the ordinary ranks of life 'f Here it must be fatal, and esD^cidlly amongst that descrip tion of persons whose wives have, in many cases, the receiving as well as the expending of money. Ir. such a case, there wants nothing but extravagance in the wife to make ruin as sure as the arrival of old age. To obtain security against this is very dif ficult ; yet, if the lover be not quite blind, he may easily discover a propensity towards extravagance. The object of his addresses 156 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. will, nine times out of ten, not be the man ager of a house; but she must have her dress, and other little matters under her con trol. If she be costly in these ; if, in these, she step above her rank, or even to the top of it ; if she purchase all she is able to pur chase, and prefer the showy to the useful, the gay and the fragile to the less sightly and more durable, he may be sure that the dispo sition will cling to her through life. If he perceive in her a taste for costly food, costly furniture, costly amusements ; if he find her love of gratification to be bounded only by her want of means ; if he find her full of admiration of the trappings of the rich, and of desire to be able to imitate them, he may be pretty sure that she will not spare his ^urse when once she gets her hand into it ; jid, therefore, if he can bid adieu to her charms, the sooner he does it the better. Earn her a horse to ride, she will want a gig ; earn the gig, she will want a chariot ; get her that, she will long for a coach-and- four ; and, from stage to stage, she will tor ment you to the end of her or your days ; for still there will be somebody with a finer equipage than you can give her ; and as long as this is the case, you will never have rest. The Tidy Housekeeper. There must also be cleanliness. This is a capital ingredient ; for there never yet was, and there never will be, love of long dura tion, sincere and ardent love, in any man towards a "filthy mate." I do not say that there are not men enough to live peaceably and even contentedly, with dirty, sluttish women ; for there are some who seem to like the filth well enough. But what I contend for is this, that there never can exist, for any length of time, ardent affection in any man towards a woman who is filthy either in her person or in her house affairs. Men may be careless as to their own persons ; they may, from the nature of their business, or from their want of time to adhere to neatness in dress, be slovenly in their own dress and habits ; but they do not relish this in their wives, who must still have charms; and charms and filth do not go together. Neatness in Dress. It is not dress that the husband wants to be perpetual : it is not finery ; but cleanliness is everything. The French women dress enough, especially when they sally forth. Mr John Tredwell, of Long Island, used to say that the French were " pigs in the parlor and peacocks on the promenade ; " an allit eration which " Canning's self" might have envied ! This occasional cleanliness is not the thing that an American husband wants : he wants it always ; indoors as well as out ; by night as well as by day ; on the floor as well as on the table ; and, however he may grumble about the " fuss " and the " ex pense " of it, he would grumble more if he had it not I once saw a picture representing the amusements of Portuguese lovers ; that is to say, three or four young men, dressed in gold or silver laced clothes, each having a young girl, dressed like a princess, and affec tionately engaged in hunting down and kill ing the vermin in his head ! This was, per haps, an exaggeration; but that it should have had the shadow of foundation, was enough to fill me with contempt for the whole nation. The dress is a good criterion in two res pects ; first, as to its color ; for if the white be a sort of yellow, cleanly hands would have been at work to prevent that. A white* yellow cravat, or shirt, on a man, speaks at once the character of his wife ; and, be you assured, that she will not take with your dress pains which she has never taken with her own. Then the manner of putting oa THE MODEL WIFE. 157 the dress is no bad foundation for judging. If it be careless, slovenly, if it do not fit properly, no matter for its mean quality: mea.n as it may be, it may be neatly and trim ly put on ; and if it be not, take care of your self ; for, as you will soon find to your cost, a sloven in one thing is a sloven in all things. Look at the shoes ! If they be trodden on one side, loose on the foot, or run down at Ihe heel, it is a very bad sign ; and, as to slip-shod, though at coming down in the morning and even before daylight, make up your mind to a rope, rather than to live with a slip-shod wife. Oh ! how much do women lose by inat tention to these matters? Men, in general, say nothing about it to their wives ; but they think about it; they envy their luckier neighbors ; and, in numerous cases, conse quences the most serious arise from this ap parently trifling cause. Beauty is valuable ; it is one of the ties ; and a strong tie too : khat, however, cannot last to old age ; but (he charm of cleanliness never ends but with life itsell The Queen of the Kitchen. There must also be a knowledge of do mestic affairs. It was the fashion in former times, for ladies to understand a great deal about these affairs, and it would be very hard to make me believe that this did not tend to promote the interests and well-being of their husbands. A thorough acquaintance with domestic affairs is so necessary in every wife that the lover ought to have it continually in his eye. Not only a knowledge of these affairs, not only to know how things ought to be done, but how to do them, not only to know what ingredients ought to be put into a pie or a pudding, but to be able to make the pie or the pudding. Young peo ple, when they come together, ought not, unless they have fortunes, or are in a great way of business, to think about servant* Servants for what ! To help them to eat and drink and sleep? When children come, there must be some help in a farmer's or tradesman's house; but until then, what call for a servant in a house, the master of which has to earn every mouthful that is consumed? Love Can't Live on Heavy Bread. Eating and drinking come three times every day ; they must come ; and however little we may, in the days of our health and vigor, care about choice food and about cookery, we very soon get tired of heavy or burnt bread, and of spoiled joints of meat; we bear them for a time, or for two perhaps, but about the third time, we lament in. wardly ; about the fifth time it must be an extraordinary honeymoon that will keep us from complaining ; if the like continue for a month or two, we begin to repent ; and then adieu to all our anticipated delights. We discover, when it is too late, that we have not got a helpmate, but a burden ; and the fire of love being damped, the unfortu nately educated creature, whose parents are more to blame than she, is, unless she re solve to learn to do her duty, doomed to lead a life very nearly approaching to that of misery; for, however considerate the hus band, he never can esteem her as he would have done, had she been skilled and able in domestic affairs. Never fear the toil to her ; exercise is good for health ; and without health there is no beauty ; a sick beauty may excite pity ; but pity is a short-lived passion. Besides, what is the labor in such a case? And how many thousands of ladies, who loll away the day, would give half their fortunes for that sound sleep which the stirring housewife seldom fails to enjoy! Honest labor means health and happiness. i 5 8 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. Sunshine in the Home. Good temper is a jewel. This is a very difficult thing to ascertain beforehand. Smiles are so cheap ; they are so easily put >n for the occasion ; and, besides, the frowns are, according to the lover's whim, inter preted into the contrary. By "good tem per,'" I do not mean easy temper, a serenity MISS PHILIPPA FAWCETT. Mental temperament: large perceptive faculties; very harmonious organization ; first lady who ever re ceived the highest honors over all competitors at the great University of Cambridge, England. which nothing disturbs, for that is a mark of laziness. Sulkiness, if you be rot too blind to perceive it, is a temper to be avoided by all means. A sulky man is bad enough ; what, then, must be a sulky woman, and that woman a wife ; a constant inmate, a companion day and night ! Only think of the delight of sitting at the same table, and sleeping in the same bed, for a week, and not exchange a word all the while! Very bad to be scolding for such a length of time ; but this is far better than the sulks and sullen deportment. If you have your eyes, and look sharp, you will discover symptoms of this, if it un happily exist She will, at some time a, other, show it towards some one or other oi the family ; or perhaps towards yourself; and you may be sure that, in this respect, mar riage will not mend her. Sulkiness arises from capricious displeasure, displeasure not founded on reason. The party takes offence unjustifiably, is unable to frame a complaint, and therefore expresses displeasure by silence, The remedy for sulkiness is, to suffer it to take its full swing ; but it is better not to have the disease in your house ; and to be married to it is little short of madness. Everlasting- Fault-finders. Querulousness is a great fault. No man v and especially, no woman, likes to hear eter nal plaintiveness. That she complain, and roundly complain, of your want of punctu ality, of your coolness, of your neglect, r your liking the company of others ; these: are all very well, more especially as they are frequently but too just. But an everlasting complaining, without rhyme or reason, is a. bad sign. It shows want of patience, and r indeed, want of sense. But the contrary of this, a cold indiffer ence, is still worse. " When will you come again? You can never find time to come here. You like any company better than mine." These, when groundless, are very- teasing, and demonstrate a disposition too full of anxiousness ; but from a girl who always receives you with the same civil smile, lets you, at your own good pleasure, depart with the same ; and who, when you take her by the hand, holds her cold fingeis as straight as sticks, I say, God in his mercy preserve me ! Pertinacity is a very bad thing in any body, and especially in a young woman ; and it is sure to increase in force with the age of the party. To have the last word is a poor triumph ; but with some peorjle it is a species THE MODEL WIFE. 159 of disease of the mind. In a wife it must be extremely troublesome ; and if you find an ounce of it in the maid, it will become a pound in the wife. An eternal disputer is a most disagreeable companion; and where young women thrust their say into conver sations carried on by older persons, give their opinions in a positive manner, and court a contest of the tongue, those must be very bold men who will encounter them as wives. Still, of all the faults as to temper, your melancholy ladies have the worst, unless you have the same mental disease. Most wives are, at times, misery-makers ; but these carry it on as a regular trade. They are always unhappy about something, either past, pres ent, or to come. Both arms full of children is a pretty efficient remedy in most cases ; but if the ingredients be wanting, a little want, a little real trouble, a little genuine affliction must, if you would effect a cure, be resorted to. But this is very painful to a man of any feeling ; and, therefore, the best way is to avoid a connection which is to give you a life of wailing and sighs. Female Loveliness. Although no woman is to be blamed or despised for her plainness, yet beauty is to be coveted. Though I have reserved this to the last of the things to be desired in a wife, I by no means think it the last in point of importance. The less favored part of the sex say, that "beauty is but skin deep;" and this is very true ; but it is very agreeable, though, for all that. Pictures are only paint-deep, or pencil-deep; but we admire them, nevertheless. "Handsome is that handsome does," used to say to me an old man, who had marked me out for his not over-handsome daughter. " Please your eye iind plague your heart," is an adage that want of beauty invented. I dare say, more than a thousand years ago. These adages? would say, if they had but the courage, that beauty is inconsistent with chastity, with sobriety of conduct, and with all the female virtues. The argument is, that beauty ex< poses tu^. possessor to greater temptation thai? FANNY DAVENPORT. Finely developed in form, features and brain; of physical force and emotior,al temperament. women not beautiful are exposed to; and that, therefore, their fall is more probable Let us see a little how this matter stands. It is certainly true that pretty girls will have more, and more ardent, admirers than ugly ones ; but as to the temptation when in their unmarried state, there are few sc very ugly as to be exposed to no temptatiot at all ; and which is the most likely to resist; she who has a choice of lovers, or she who if she let the occasion slip, may never have it again? Which of the two is most likely to set a high value upon her reputation ; she whom all beholders admire, or she who ig admired, at best, by mere chance? And as to women in the married state, this argument assumes, that when they fall> it is from their own vicious disposition; COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC UFE. when the fact is, that, if you search the an nals of conjugal infidelity, you will find that, nine cases out of ten, the fault is in the hus band. It is his neglect, his flagrant disre gard, his frosty indifference, his foul exam ple ; it is to these that, nine times out of ten, he owes the infidelity of his wife ; and if I LADY RANDOLPH CHURCHILL. Active organization and adapted to business affairs ; brain full large for body ; amiable disposition ; volup tuous lips ; famous for conjugal devotion. were to say ninety-nine times out of a hun dred, the facts, if verified, would, I am cer tain, bear me out. And whence this neg lect, this disregard, this frosty indifference ; whence this foul example? Because it is easy, in so many cases, to find some woman more beautiful than the wife. This is no justification for the husband to plead ; for he has, with his eyes open, made a solemn contract ; if she have not beauty enough to please him, he should have sought it in some other woman. At any rate, as conjugal infidelity is, in so many cases; as it is generally caused by the want of affec tion and due attention in the husband, it fol lows, of course, that it must more frequently happen in the case of ugly than in that 04 handsome women. As to manners and temper, there are cer. tainly some handsome women who are con ceited and arrogant ; but as they have all the best reasons in the world for being pleased with themselves, they afford you the best chance of general good-humor; and thk good-humor is a very valuable commodity in the married state. Women of Wax and Wood. Some that are called by most persons handsome, and that are such at the first glance, are dull, inanimate things, that might as well have been made of wax, or of wood. But the truth is, that this is not beauty, for this is not to be found only in the form of the features, but in the movements of them also. Besides, here nature is very impartial ; for she gives animation promiscuously to the hand some as well as to the ugly ; and the want of this in the former is surely as bearable as in the latter. But the great use of female beauty, the great practical advantage of it is, that it naturally and unavoidably tends to keep the husband in good-humor with himself, to make him, to use the dealer's phrase, pleased with his bargain. When old age approaches, and the parties have become endeared to each other by a long series of joint cares and in terests, and when children have come and bound them together by the strongest ties that nature has in store, at this age the features and the person, are of less conse quence ; but in the young days of matrimony, when the roving eye of the bachelor is scarcely become steady in the head of the husband, it is dangerous for him to see, every time he stirs out, a face more captivating than that of his companion for life. Beauty is, in some degree, a matter of taste : what one man admires, another does not ; THE MODEL WIFE. 161 and it is fortunate for us that it is thus. But svill there are certain things that all men admire ; and a husband is always pleased when he perceives that a portion, at least, of these things are in his own possession ; he takes this possession as a compliment to him self; there must, he will think the world will believe, have been some merit in him, some charm, seen or unseen, to have caused him to be blessed with the acquisition. Healthy Wives and Children versus Sickly. And then there arise so many things, sick ness, misfortune in business, losses, many, many things, wholly unexpected ; and there are so many circumstances, perfectly name less, to communicate to the new-married man the fact, that it is not a real angel of whom he has got the possession ; there are so many things of this sort, so many and such power ful dampers of the passions, and so many in centives to cool reflection, that it requires something, and a good deal too, to keep the husband in countenance in this his altered and enlightened state. To be sure, when a man has, from what ever inducement, once married a woman, he is unjust and cruel if he even slight her on account of her want of beauty, and if he treat her harshly on this account, he is a brute. But it requires a greater degree of reflection and consideration than falls to the lot of men in general to make them act with justice in such a case ; and, therefore, the best way is to guard, if you can, against the temptation to commit such injustice, which is to be done in no other way, than by not marrying any one that you do not think handsome. Robust health in wife and mother is al most as indispensable as in husband and father. He requires one who helps^ not hin ders, and can take part in their mutual labors and interests. Animal vigor is the para- II mount prerequisite of everything terrestrial. Without it none can think clearly, or love heartily. A nervous woman may cry franti cally when you leave her, but these morbid tears are worse than none. Whether & wife is chosen to love and ile loved, to live with or help along, or even as a drudge, a health} one is a hundred times better than a sickly. A Living Death. Rosy children constitute the great ulti mate of marriage, and are worth a thousand fold more than sickly ones ; but their consti* tutional health depends much on that of their mother, whose office is to impart vital ity to her young. Yet how can she impart what she does not possess? Those whc marry weakly girls may expect their little, feeble, sickly children to cry night and day, require continual nursing and doctoring, and then torture them with fears lest any atmos pheric change should blow them into a pre mature grave, after parental heartstrings have become fully entwined around them. But, to crown all, after bestowing a full manly soul on a poor delicate creature, besides all the loss of her health and cost of her weak- liness, to be tortured by fit after fit of sick ness, till he* very helplessness and sufferings have only redoubled your tender sympathy ; see her torn from you by death ; inter her emaciated corpse by the side of that of youi darling babe, and return a heart-broken widower to your now desolate home ; youi life spoiled, because you married that delicate Miss ; whereas, by marrying a healthy one, you could just as well have raised a goodly family of brisk, blooming children, and had a healthy, long-lived helpmate, is indeed terrible. Where is your sense, foresight, and busi ness sagacity, that you lay a train for these dreadful consequences, when you might just as well lay oiie fur felicitous ones instead ? 1 62 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. Or perhaps she barely lives along, feeble, full of aches and ailments ; just able to go about ; becomes unable to go with you to field or garden, lecture-room or concert, to ride or walk, or take part with you in your recrea tions or labors ; tame in character, because sickly ; languid in all her pleasures, thoughts, and desires ; exact, exacting, and difficult to please ; not able to relish the finest peach ; discontented ; dissatisfied ; practically im peaching all you say and do for her ; taking everything the cross-grained way ; censuring and irritating all, because in a censuring mood ; her natural loveliness turned into bit terness ; all her mental faculties retro verted ; both awakening pity and provoking anger, because, like a sick baby, always in a cross mood ; nothing like that sweet, soft, winning, complaisant woman she once was, and would again be if again healthy. Please figure out the profits and losses of a healthy wife over a sickly. One exclaimed, after having buried a weakly wife and all his children, " Well, next time, I'll marry a healthy girl, if I have to marry an Irish girl. " How can sensible men trifle with their dearest interests, pecuniary and affectional, as those do who marry weakly women ? Still, marriage will often restore them. A farmer, condoled for the loss of his wife, replied, " Oh, not so very great a loss either, for she has not been down cellar these five years !" while another, on losing one who made excellent butter, said, "I had rather lost any two of my cows ; because she made such proper good butter- " Though a sick ly wife is better than none, yet one medium in many other respects, but healthy, is many fold preferable to one superior in most other respects, yet sickly. Words cannot do justice to this subject. Yet a robust woman is often neglected,! and delicate prized. Ladies even boast of their weaknesses, headaches, sideaches, back aches, nervousness, sleeplessness, "com plaints " here, there, everywhere boasting that they don't know enough to get and keep well, and are all nerve ! Nervousness is their paramount ailment How common, how almost universal. Why 1 Because pushed right from cradle into school, and kept there till too late to develop phys ically. What martyrdom ? Novels, feverish love, late parties, self-abuse, with an in-door life, and many other like educational causes, complete the ruin of their sensory systems, and make them nervous wrecks. Of course their precocious children are few, and die by millions, while those that live are weakly* And this evil redoubles apace. Robustness and exquisiteness are com patible. Nothing in either conflicts with anything in the other. People think other wise, but mistake. Excellent muscles, di gestion, circulation, rather promote than prevent refinement. So does a hearty sex uality, passion included. Indeed, a sexless passive woman cannot be exquisite, yet may be morbid. To create and augment this ex quisiteness, so as to transmit it, is the specific office of sexuality. Nature knows what she wants and has provided for it CHAPTER XV. The Model Husband. ^ROFESSOR FOWLER well says that animal power is the great base of all capacity, all functional excellence. What is life without health? What are the sickly worth to themselves, families, or the world? As a machine, however well adapted to execute the best of work, is worthless without motive power ; so animal stamina is the first prerequisite for companionship. A good physique is indispensable even to men tal power and moral excellence, which wax, frane, or become vitiated, according to ex isting physical conditions. Men always have worshipped, will worship, at the shrine of female beauty, and woman at that of masculine strength; both of which consist mainly in vigorous animal condi tions. I^et those girls who know no better, choose little-faced, little-footed, small-boned, shrivelled, soft-handed, soft-headed, nervous, white-livered young men, well nigh emascu lated by their effeminate habits ; but you do not want them. They may answer merely to beau you into and out of a parlor or ball room, or escort you to a party or picnic, or for flirtation ; but they will make miserable husbands, because they are not sick enough to nurse, nor well enough to excite your whole-souled love, and are so fidgety and irritable that to please or love them is impos sible. Indoor clerks and puny dandies are indeed more polite than sturdy farmers and mechan ics ; but as conjugal partners, robust work men are altogether preferable. Men who remain much within doors must exercise foily, or suffer the decline of their manli ness. Are not good, firm health and a hardy constitution quite as safe a reliance for tha support of a family as capital in business T Does not ability to work exceed bank stock! Miss Young America stands badly in hel own light by refusing the hardy farmer and resolute mechanic for the more accomplished but less reliable clerk, or idle inheritor of a fortune. These anti-working ideas of both sexes are rendering them almost unmarriage 1 able just from their muscular inertia, and ruining future generations. At this rate oi decline, what feeble, delicate mortals de scendants must become in the next genera tion? And as few as weakly ! Yet indi viduals are not to blame. Our societariau customs are thus fatal to our future. Oui men rush from work to study, or some seden tary employment, or else to business. Theit minds must be educated at the expense oi their constitutions, to the ruin of both. \( they adopt business, they become so anxious, and apply their minds so long and labori ously, as to sap the very roots of animal power, and become poor and delicate before old enough to marrr. Our nation cannot long survive these enervating habits, except by renewed importations. Woman, patron' ize muscle, not dandyism. Smile on strength, not delicacy. And, young man, indoors and out, make health paramount, both for its own sake, and that of your pros pective wife; and also for its indispensa- bility to the matrimonial and parental rela tions. Health, pluck, courage to face the world and conquer it, are what you want 1 64 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. A girl is not to be despised and rejected because she has wealth Even rich ladies may be beautiful, genuine, affectionate, do mestic, and not to blame for having plenty of cash. Poverty is not a virtue. Yet dol- ~ -? bind no hearts, and hearts warm with Uie and love are the only things that count SIR GEORGE NARE8. Type of health and manhood ; happy combination of the mental, moral and physical; cool and ener getic ; Arctic explorer, who discovered the relics of Sir John Franklin. Love alone does or can ever become the uniting motive of a hearty sexual union. Marrying for money on either side breaks Nature's conjugal laws, and punishes every perpetrator. Though girls may look well to a family support, yet good health and a willing heart are a more reliable support than ready money. Where industrious pro posers have any work or business, love will provide the balance. Dismiss any who have not. Yet marrying for an establishment is an outrageous swindle. Many, rendered heart less by disappointment, turn fortune-hunters That hypocrite, who said, "I married him for his money, not himself," will make his money fly. Wherein do such differ from "women of pleasure?" Do not both pros- titute themselves alike for money? Who ever marries more from vanity than love,, prostitutes this most sacred human senti ment, and will be punished accordingly. Men who have money must keep a sharp lookoi it for such vixen deceivers. Matrimonial Swindlers. Fortune-hunting beau ! You shameless hypocrite in thus pretending to love a wo man only to rob her of her patrimony ! If money is your motive, say so, not lie out right in action ; and a lie of deeds is a hun dred-fold worse than one merely spoken. Spider, coiling your web around your unsus pecting victim, and she a young lady, only that you may live on her money ! and coax her to lave you for it besides! Dastardly villain, ten times more despicable than gamblers who profess to rob, while you rob in the most hypocritical disguise a man can assume to woman. Thieves and swindlers are comparative saints ; for they leave some, while you grasp all. They rob men of only dollars, while you rob a female of her heart as well as purse; they by night, you by night and day ; they strangers, you an inti mate; they under cover of darkness, you under that of love ; they by false keys, but you by false pretences. Whoever marries a woman for her money, swindles her by false pretences out of the patrimony her doting parents have treasured up for her life-long support, and then abuse her ; for all who thus marry, abuse thus. I Breaking locks is innocence in comparison with breaking hearts ; for this both shortens her life and spoils its remainder. If retri butive Nature should let such transgression THE MODEL HUSBAND. 165 of her statutes go " tin-whipped of justice," " the very stones would cry aloud for ven geance." She visits iniquity in the day, and the way of the sin. Such sin causes its own suffering, by putting you in a mean, depend ent position. A Quaker worth two shillings married a Quakeress worth three, who twitted him every little while thus: "Anyhow, I was worth the most at our marriage!" One who knows "by sad experience" says, "I would as soon cut off my arms as again marry any woman with one dollar, or more than one common dress." A fellow married a woman's money, she being thrown in and it sometimes takes piles of money to make the "thrown in" even endurable with which a splendid rid ing-establishment was procured, in which she wanted to ride with another man, to which he objected, when she replied : "Know in the start, sir, that my money bought this establishment ; so I calculate to ride when, where, and with whom I like; and you, puppy, must grin and bear it, pa tiently too." "Your money bought me too," was his meeching reply. How must such feel, all "bought up," "owned," "supported," and by a woman. And expected in return to " dance attendance." " I bought you cheap ; see that you serve me well;" yet she "paid too dear for her whistle" then. She will thrust your dependence into your face every hour by looks, words, and actions, and oblige you, poor coot, to grin and bear whatever stripes she chooses to impose. You will soon find yourself where the nether end of the kite is tacked on behind and below, and switched around briskly during every blow. Served you right, you mercenary hypocrite. You have ignored womanhood, intelligence, thrift, everything except a few paltry dollars. Verily, poltroon, if you really must b? supported, you will find the county poor- house preferable to the matrimonial ; for she will keep you under her harrow, and har row you worse than any other poor toady ever was harrowed; but you deserve all MISS CLARA GREENWALD. of the perfect woman ; bright, self-reliant, strong in mind and body ; school-teacher at the age 01 thirteen, the youngest in the United States. And yet our highways and byways, even churches, are literally thronged with these miserable, "shiftless," deceitful, scalliwag, pilgrim travelers in search of a matrimonial poor-house. A woman cannot have a paltry five hundred dollars without being literally besieged for it. And any man who gets it will be a toady husband all his life. Independence is an attribute of manli ness. Let me make my own fortune, rather even than inherit it, and live by the sweat of my own brow, in preference even to that of my father's. Enough to derive from parents name, character, and support, till barely able to support self. This venality of marriage in aristocratic and rich families is outrageous ; yet is onset by the wife having -66 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. her " chere ami" or lover, wholly irrespect ive of her husband, who only possesses her dowry and fortune, while another has he* heart. Would this were all ! One of England's richest heiresses, while glistening in diamonds, evinced the most hopeless melancholy in the midst of the gayest assembly. Religious herself, she loved a divine; but her proud family in sisted that she should marry wealth ; yet she paid them back, by pertinaciously refusing to marry at all ; and is most miserable in spite of untold riches, and more hopelessly wretched than her penniless washerwoman. Nature always punishes such breaches of her laws by spoiling the life of both victims. Did not the world-renowned conjuga* diffi culties of Lady Norton originate in a mone tary alliance? Have we not proved that love alone is the guardian of virtue? A rich, proud, stern father obliges his daughter to marry one she loathes. This compels her either to die broken-hearted, or else to love outside of wedlock; the necessary conse quence of which is either infidelity, or else the starvation of her love-element. You Can Spoil Your Wife. I am to suppose that you have made a good choice ; but a good young woman may be made, by a weak, a harsh, a neglectful, an extravagant, or a profligate husband, a really bad wife and mother. All in a wife, beyond her own natural disposition and edu cation is, nine times out of ten, the work of her husband. The first thing of all, be the rank in life what it may, is to convince her of the necess- 'ly of moderation in expense ; and to make 'her clearly see the justice of beginning to act upon the presumption, that there are children coming, that they are to be provided for, and that she is to assist in the making of that provision. Legally speaking, we have a right to do what we please with our property, which, however, is not our OWL, unless it exceed our debts. And, morally speaking, we, at the moment of our marriag^ contract a debt with the naturally to be ex pected fruit of it ; and therefore the scale of expense should, at the beginning, be as lov. as that of which a due attention to rank iu life will admit. Love Sweetens Life. The power of love is perfectly magical for happiness, when its laws are obeyed ; for misery, when they are violated. Not a tithe of the love inherent in all is ever called forth ; because these laws are little observed ; and this because few understand them ; not withstanding all the hecatombs of works and novels, love stories included, written by both men and women, on this love theme. Manifest normal male or female nature to wards your mate. No man ever did, does, or can express true manly attributes to his wife without proportionally enamoring, or unmanly without alienating her. How much she loves him depends chiefly on how much true manhood he evinces towards her ; though also on how much love capacity she has, and its state. As far as you feel and express true manly attributes, you enamor your wife ; but as far as you depart there from, you excite her loathing and disgust; even though she has no idea just what she likes and dislikes. Hence being the true man to her, attains two most glorious human ends perfect? your own manly nature, and enamors her As every man who does business should pride himself on doing it in the best manner possible ; so every man should pride himself on being true to manhood, and attaining its two ends, a wife's love, and fine offspring. Being the true woman enamors a husband, and compels him to love her in proportion- : THE MODEL HUSBAND. 167 yet just as far as any wife departs from a true feminine comportment towards him, she obliges him to taste and loathe her unfemi- uine bitterness. Many wives take great pains and pride in being " in fashion, " yet none to be or act the genuine woman ; whereas, be ing a mere fashionable in comparison with a true woman, is like having only a farthing compared with a fortune. AS gold is better than brass, as diamonds are worth more than pebbles, so a true, noble, queenly woman is angelic compared with a weaK, empty, painted butterfly dressed up in female clothes, an imposition upon ber sex. Gallantry and Politeness, Gallantry, polite attentions from gentle men to ladies, including their pleasant, grateful reception by ladies, is primal law of love having maternity for its base. Thus a man and a woman, a perfect gentleman and lady, meet at table, on steamboat, in parlor, anywhere. Their sexual natures impose on each towards the other a comportment quite unlike that due from either sex to its own. They mutually like, admire, each other ; this prompts still more gallant atten tions from him to her, with their thankful re ception. This begets that mutual love which inspires more and more of this identi cal reciprocal treatment the more they love. They marry ; this requires and begets still more of this same comportment ; and their becoming parents together more yet ; because reproduction is the rationale of all males, all females. Think within yourselves just how a per fect gentleman should treat a perfect lady, and she him ; and then be and do more so. What is being a gentleman but expressing manly characteristics gently? Think out just what that signifies. Analyze gallantry, a word that has always been used to desig nate that courteous way ma'e birds evince towards female, always considerate; or the way in which all males naturally treat all females. Note the attentive, kind, generous, tender, sympathetic attentions all model gentlemen bestow on model ladies, and treat your wife accordingly ; and you will soon find her "dead in love," literally infatuated with you. Do gentlemen behave or speak rudely to ladies? or frown, scowl, sulk, ol swear, before them? or ever tease, blame, scold, provoke, or satirize them ? Are they not refined, polite, attentive to their wants, and complimentary? Would one angry frown distort their pleasant countenances, or rude act mar their polished bearing? Would they not watchfully discern and commend every charm, draw the mantle of charity over all faults, and tear out their tongues sooner than upbraid? An Angel Abroad and a Devil at Home. Yet how often do legal husbands commit improprieties and perpetrate downright vul garities to and before their wives oi which they would no more be guilty towards other ladies than forfeit their reputation as gentle men? or if they did, they would be ban ished from genteel female society ; and yet wonder why their wives do not love them ! For a husband to be ever so extra genteel, gallant, spruce, talkative, gay, lively, com plimentary, and much more besides, to other ladies, yet dull, listless, commonplace, unap- preciative and inattentive to his wife, is a conjugal outrage which must forestall fur ther love, and kill existing. Yet no matter how gallant to others, provided he is more so to her. A widow lady and daughter living next door to a man and his wife, each dropping in and out without ceremony, often rode out with them. One day, riding only with his wife, he became enraged at his horse, whip ping and swearing terribly. After being re- 168 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. seated, his wife gently dropping her hand on his, asked him pleasantly whether he thought he would have acted thus if Mrs. and Miss had been along? to which he replied : "Of course not, because it would drive *3iem away from me ; but since we are mar ried, you cannot help yourself, whatever I may do." What a heathenish answer ! Who won ders that she turned a woman's-rights apos tle? But if the married will simply follow this rule, which those in love cannot help observing, their honey-moon will last a life time. " Patherick, why can't we live as pacable and loving togither as that cat and dog?" "Jist tie 'm togither, and see how they'll fight!" A wife's thankful reception of her hus band's attentions is as much more due to him than a lady's to a gentleman's, as the former should love more. A young married man treated his bride very gallantly at table, waited on her him self as far as possible, and had servants wait on her in double-quick time, comporting himself towards her in a true conjugal man ner; while she received his gallant atten tions with indifference. Meeting them at another table a few weeks afterwards, he had discontinued them ; and doubtless that for lorn woman is to-day pining in secret be cause he has ceased to treat her as tenderly as of yore, and sighing over the difference between young lovers before marriage, and these same men after their honey-moon has set; little realizing that she herself fore stalled and killed them by her passive re ception of them. Wives, may not the in difference of some of your husbands have a like origin? Every wife must repay by thankful pleas antness what attentions she receives from husband more than ladies gentlemen, and thank the more the more she desires ; and deserves no more than is thus paid for. Her passive indifference forestalls his future proffers. Cold Treatment. No thankless wife deserves or will long receive attentions and courtesies from hei husband. Wives, remember that thanking husband pleasantly, even coquettishly, for all the favors he does grant, is your best way to inspire him to bestow more ; while " you ought to, and no thanks either, because you've married me," will soon kill his love and courtesy together. A wife's gratitude is a husband's nectar. Love can never co-exist with ungentlemanly or unladylike treatment. " This seems all right in theory," you say, " but imposes on us men a burden too great for any to carry. No husbands do or can treat their wives thus." Those in love cannot help it. So far from this treatment being a task, it is a luxury. A deep, abiding affection will prompt all this, and much more. This mu tual treatment actually does and must pro portionally obtain between all who love ; yet declines as love wanes. Indifferent man ners accompany indifferent hearts; while reversed love renders behavior perfectly hateful. Though he who dislikes his wife may try to and think he really does do his whole duty to and treat her about right, yet all his actions towards her are abominable, and a perpetual insult ; because his feelings are so ; though perhaps neither can specify exactly wherein. But many say, " We wives have so many cares and vexations, the more aggravating by their very insignificance, that we cannot always be as winning and coquettish as care* THE MODEL HUSBAND. 169 less girls; cannot help feeling cross, and acting ugly. None realize how much we have to sour, and little to sweeten, our tempers." Does fretting over troubles remove, does it not aggravate them? And necessarily alienate a husband besides? He may pity his irritable, irritating, fussy, fidgety wife as he would a sick child ; yet such wives are an abomination to all husbands. Men do love sweetness in women, cannot but hate cross ness. IJove-Spats. Pride of character is one of man's best and woman's strongest traits ; and in this country, enormous and inflated. All fashions, respec tability, society, come from it. Honor, am bition to be first, emulation to excel, love of display, are its products. Only love surpasses it as an incentive to effort. Insults, by re versing it, create the fiercest rage. In all women it is excessive and inflated, while its perpetual stimulation by praise from cradle to marriage, usually renders it a real feminine insanity. Praise delights it ; and is due for every good deed. Blame outrages it, and when not deserved, is most unjust Stealing is no worse than falsely accusing ; as is most scolding. Praise kindles, blame kills, love; especially in woman. Nothing equally. How very much she does set by tokens of masculine appreciation, and is cut by depreciation ? On both she is indeed a little soft. She was wisely created thus. This trait is inherent in her, and must be respected. She deserves commendation for all her good, condemnation for few bad, deeds. Why is not ambition entitled to its pay for good services rendered, as much as acquisition for goods delivered? Is not neglecting to pay its dues as disgraceful and palpably wrong as not paying a monetary note? When a wife has done her best to get up a good dinner, even though she fails, is she not as justly entitled to her pay in praise as that grocer in dollars for flour? Bestowing it will surprise you that she sets so very much by it, in its delighting her so that, unless hei love is already chilled out by neglect, she can hardly contain herself. Though so very easy to cancel these love dues by appreciation, yet how seldom are they "honored?" But how cruelly aggravating, how very wicked, to blame her after she has done her best to please? Scolded wives do ten times less, praised, twenty times more, than blamed ones. A superb wife, married two years, said : "One whole year I tried my best to suit my husband, avoid his blame, and get his praise ; but the harder I tried the worse I fared. My meat, too rare yesterday, was overdone to day. I fretted, cried, prayed over it till I found I must give up to die, or else fight it ofE I chose the latter, and steeled my heart against him and his eternal grumblings, even scolded back ; and a wretched life we have lived. If required to choose between another such marriage and death, I certainly prefer to die. " Such cases abound ; yet are not all on one side, as many a hen-pecked husband, who deserves only praise, can attest Finding fault engenders more marital alienations than most other causes com bined ; stabs love right under its fifth rib ; spills its warm life-blood ; and must never on any account be inflicted by or on either. Blame from one's own sex is most provoking and unendurable: but from the opposite, absolutely outrageous. No concatenation of circumstances can justify it This is not the way the sexes were ordained to lessen each other's faults, or promote each other's virtues. All scolding is but driving and threatening i COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. which makes even boys, much more men, defiant and vindictive. Driving contrary mules is easy in comparison. Your first spat is worse than your house .burning. Put it right out, or it will con sume your future conjugal bliss. Even your first blame, if only by implication, and seem ingly trifling, is really horrible, in itself and its effects. If you do not have the first, you will never have any ; but the first is about sure to breed multitudes of those "little foxes that spoil the vines " of love. No scolding, haggling woman can ever nope to retain a man's affection for any great length of time. Curtain Lectures. Curtain lectures are far the worst, be cause spleen boiled down ; and all on one side. Be fatigue, nervousness, female com plaints, or anything else their cause, they are utterly without excuse, and absolutely heathenish. All Mrs. Caudles are stark mad fools, and deserve to go to both the lunatic and idiot asylums. They cut off their noses to spite their faces. They curtail their own supplies and hurt themselves ten, yes, a thousand-fold more than their scolded husbands. Every iota of censure, implied equally with ex pressed, kills love, and all those favors it bestows ; takes both off from the male and female plane only to put them on one .r-.erely human, and antagonistic at that. No scolded husband, unless angelic, will do any more for his scolding wife than com pelled to. All Caudles, all scolds, even fault-finders, remember this : , All blame makes your next dress much longer in coming yet much shorter, when it does come ; and poorer in quality ; and thus of everything else ; because even stingy men give lavishly to women they love, yet naturally generous ones are niggardly to those they dislike. Yet, as a rule, scolds deserve more pity than blame. Sexual ail ments and reversed love are the chief causes. Hen-pecking wives, what ! Love a cowed, humble, meeching, subdued husband ; or he you, after you have broken his spirits J Or if so, shame on you and him. Hen-pecked Husbands. What shall a hen-pecked husband dof Let her peck away, and say nothing, because, i. Fighting a woman, however justly, is mean, despicable. 2. Unsuccessful ; for no fighting woman can possibly be conquered, ever. 3. Talking back only spills still more fat into the fierce fire. She " will have the last word," and use you up. Every woman's tongue is longer and sharper than any man's sword. Keeping her from beginning battle.,, is your only resort ; for, once begun, you are worsted in advance. Put your ear-trumpet behind your ear. A patient husband, married to a terrific scold, unable to hear except through an ear-trumpet, knowing from her looks and manner when ever she was scolding, always put his ear- trumpet behind his ears. Of course when she scolded into it he could not hear a word she said, and so never answered back. Does taming the shrew by being so much more violent and abusive than she is as to frighten and subdue her, express a law, ap plicable to the best way for managing high- strung wives? Its Shakespearian origin is high authority. It might subdue some merely pampered indulged women ; yet the experiment is dangerous. Letting her dis tinctly understand that every scold lessens her supplies ; that the more scolding the less money, and less more, will bring most shrews to time, by touching self-interest and their purse, that " apple of their eyes." Better avoid hostilities, keep mum, starve her out, the other cheek," THE MODEL HUSBAND. 171 Yet, as it is woman's nature to love, in nine cases out of ten, her cross, peevish, sour temper and spit-fire treatment of her husband can be traced either to her own tmsexed con dition, her ill health, or to his cold, indiffer ent, abusive demeanor. Men angels are not 30 common that you stumble over them at every step, and to put somewhat of the angelic into the sterner sex is the aim of these practical truths and admonitions. Every scolding husband kills woman's love, just as all fondling develops it; there fore all you passionate wife-blamers are fools. You know not on which side your own bread is buttered. Leaving your wife out of the question, consider the effects on yourselves. Blame, by reversing her love, kills her pas sion for you, and thereby your own enjoyment in her. Every reproach cuts right into your own marital pleasures. You are always de feating your own ends by scolding, instead of -oraising her. Human Porcupines. This morning you said some cross, sarcastic thing to your wife before leaving your cham ber, which maddened her. At breakfast you scolded or cuffed your little child, on which she literally dotes. This so enraged her that she let your dinner go by default she doesn't care ; and though you forgot all about it the next minute, yet you pierced her very soul with two barbed, poisoned arrows, which rankled there all day long; so that when night comes you find her a perfect porcu pine, and yourself disappointed ; whereas, if this morning you had patted her cheek, praised her child, and told it to be good to mother all day, and you'd bring it something nice, and kissed her as you left, with " Now, my dear, don't worry to-day, and we'll have a lovers' walk and talk when I return," she would have been a happy responsive wife. Behold those mated birds. When one hops, the other hops, and in the same diree tion ; when and whither one flies, then and thither the other also flies ; wherever either lights, the other lights on the same treej what one eats, both eat ; and when one sings, both sing together. This mutuality is Low intelligence ; strong masculine character ; defi' cient ir moral faculties ; hostile Sioux Chief. equally true of all other mating animals ; of which the deer, lion, tiger, etc., furnish illus trations. Whenever the lioness begins to roar, her mate chimes in and roars still louder. All mating animals are always to gether. Killing one serpent soon brings its mate. The law of doubles, animals mated perfectly, runs through creation. When a fond wife is invited to ride, party, or any amusement, how often does she pre fer not to go at all unless accompanied by her husband ; because she can enjoy nothing alone ? A young wife once cried as if het heart would break, just because her husband had obtained a phrenological delineation alone, without inviting her also ; thus evinc ing this first and highest attestation of genuine COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. 172 love. This probably offended him, yet was true conjugality in her. All you who have experienced this divine sentiment, please ana lyze its first instinctive workings, and attest whether we are not expounding its very tap root Did you not feel as if you had given MARSHALL P. WILDER. Active, mental temperament ; quick perceptions and genial disposition ; face indicating fine social and domestic qualities ; well-known humorist and lecturer. off a part of your own very self, yet taken on a part of your loved one's identical being? that you desired to live only in, and for^ and with each other ? that to be separated was like tearing your very self in twain ? All the pleasures of wedlock cluster around and depend upon this very sharing. Enjoy a given walk, ride, scenery, or luxury of any kind separately, and then share it in the spirit of affection ; this sharing redoubles it many times. No old bachelors or dissatis fied husbands, none who have no woman with whom to enjoy life's luxuries, can enjoy much. Hovels Turned to Palaces. Let them " drive out " in the finest livery, be served by the most servile servant, feast on earth's choicest dainties, drink her costliest nectars, engage in labors intrinsically delight ful, and have everything heart can wish, un less a loved woman hdps enjoy all, accom* plish all, they can enjoy and accomplish little, and are almost nonentities ; while prisons, shared with a loving woman, become palaces, tasks pleasures, and all things de lightful. You who know little of the lux uries of this sharing, may think you enjoy much ; but a rich sharing experience will prove that your former lonely habits render everything- insipid. Two Lives in One. Of woman, this is doubly true. Let her who has no husband to love, or with whom to share her lot, dress gayly, sing sweetly, do and be whatever she pleases, no life-pleasures really count unless shared with the one she loves. Enjoying alone, like talking to one's self, is better than nothing ; but how spirit less when compared with this intermingling of two loves! Most insipid are all things not thus shared ; and pitiable those, married and single, who do not thus share. Let me make her whom I have chosen and who has chosen me, my very bosom life-companion and my privy counsellor in everything ; con fer with her as to what to do, and how to do it ; make her my " Aaron and Hur, to hold up my hands, " and encourage my heart ; go with me where I must go, and stay with me where I stay ; as well as help me do what I must do, and enjoy everything in life together " And in death let us not be divided. " The more perfectly the married establish this sharing in all the other relations of life, the more perfect their love, marriage, and offspring. Hence, sharing or separating pecuniary in terests is most effective in uniting or separating them in all other respects. Ignoring her busi ness counsels and aid initiates a practical di' THE MODEL HUSBAND. 173 rorce in all other respects ; and is incompat ible with a perfect love. Doling out given sums, at stated times, to a wife for "pin money," separates those pecu niary interests which should be shared in common. Are not her family struggles as heroic and perpetual as his business ? Should not their mutual earnings be regarded and shared in common? No true wife will desire this dress or that luxury, unless she knows her husband likes it; or else leaves it wholly to her judgment Both should plan, work, and be interested together in whatever in terests either. If woman lacks man's plan ning power to forecast results, she has the more tact and intuition, and a nicer sense of right ; that most important means of ultimate business success. Each the Other's Halt. Farmers and their wives probably come nearest to nature's conjugal co-operation as to pecuniary interests, and furnish the best samples of affectionate wedlock husbands in ploughing, sowing, driving, feeding ; and Tives in cooking, milking, churning, and saving; both making common cause in everything. All should follow their ex ample. Philadelphia merchants are pre-eminently successful ; obviously partly because many of their stores are in their dwellings ; so that when obliged to be absent, wife or daughter *akes the place of husband or father. They also employ many female clerks. Man's mind must unite with woman's in order to take correct views of things. He looks at them only from masculine, she from feminine stand-points; so that neither can take a complete view of anything except in and by uniting both their views ; by which each completes the other's. "In the multitude of counsel there is safety." All need advice in most things; and who is as proper to give it as a wife ot husband? By presupposition, each is most deeply interested in the other's welfare; which is everything in a counsellor. What an indescribable pleasure to both to talk over plans and prospects, and consult togethei on anticipated results! The mere pleasure of the conference doubly repays its trouble, What a luxury to her to be consulted ! It gratifies her kindness that she is serviceable, and pride that she is esteemed as a "help meet." Her being required to help carry out plans, the very office of a wife, gives her a right to have some say as to what she shall help accomplish. Napoleon and Josephine. Napoleon Bonaparte furnishes the best illustration on the largest scale of the "aid and comfort," and want of them, rendered by a true wife. Josephine was a magnifi cent woman; accompanied him wherevei she could ; and was his chief privy coun-> seller in everything Colonel I/ehmanouski, a Pole, who entered the military academy with him, fought one hundred and seven battles under him, was his body servant, and knew all about his family secrets, in a lec ture on Josephine one of a course on Bona parte, said : " His success was due to her as much as to himself. He was often rash in his bold ness, and would sometimes devise plans sure to cause defeat. The remonstrances of all his generals and staff had no effect on him. But he never finally acted on any measure without her approval. Her quick instincts saw and pointed out any defects, which he perceived and obviated ; and when his army knew that she had approved any measure, they were sure of success. His divorce caused his downfall. His new wife's jeal ousy prevented his visiting Josephine often ; so that, not under her influence, he planned 174 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. his expedition to Russia without her full function. She advised his wintering in Poland, and getting fully prepared to strike a terrible blow in the spring. When on his lone isle he regretted his divorce as the one fatal error of his life, saying, * If I had only clung to Josephine, and taken her advice, I should have governed Europe.'" Thus, a strong man can be made stronger by woman. ENGINEER MELVILLE. Sanguine temperament ; mind and body in har mony ; ready for bold action and decision ; engineer of Greely Relief Expedition. A woman's co-operation is as indispen sable to a man's success as blood to life. Soon after the Canadian rebellion all Canada was convulsed with a proposition to unite church and state, as in the mother country. Though this was a most unpopular measure, especially with the masses, yet it was almost carried by a series of most powerful articles in its favor in the Pilot. Their author was a man of genius, but full of those rough corners and glaring imperfections calculated to injure his cause. Yet his wife, an emi nently gifted and literary woman, whose whole heart was in the measure, by taking Uis undried manuscripts between his pen and the press, rewrote this passage, erased that, and added the other; thus pruning them of their objectionable points, and super-adding her polish and persuasiveness to his virility, till together they almost car ried their point, and awakened the admira tion even of their opponents, that a cause so poor could be advocated so ably. But many a husband says, " My wife's long tongue would disclose my business secrets, if she knew all about my business." Not if she is personally interested. She will then both keep them, and put others on the wrong track besides. Let a knowing woman alone for keeping dark, and hiding your "fatal secrets" in utter impenetrability. And when you have anything to do requiring the utmost of art, policy, management, even downright intrigue, you require an interested woman's head and hand in its device and execution. Many men are not fit to manage anything intricate or complicated without feminine co-operation. At least, any man will prosper all the better for calling in the aid of "his wife in his business operations. The Guardian Angel. No man knows till he loses it how much a genuine helpmeet woman does help. For want of it, many stumble and fall soon after her death, or desertion. All ye who desire success in your respective pursuits, consider this natural law, and avail yourselves of its instrumentality of success. As your win ning card of prosperity, it has no equal ; because, when a woman loves a man, her spiritual intuitions are all quickened and called into action in his behalf; so that she becomes, as it were, his guardian angel against defeat, and a guide to success his "cloud by day, and pillar of fire by night" Interest her in your business. She sup poses you are making piles of money, and can spare fifties and hundreds without feeling THE MODEL HUSBAND. their loss , whereas, if you had consulted her as to this speculation and that, knowing your straits, she would cheerfully put up with the old, till long after you were able to get new. Keeping Everything Dark. When a husband dies or is absent, his wife requires to know all about his pecuniary affairs, in order to give right directions as to this and that, else things must take their course ; and in case he dies, to prevent ras cally harpies from preying on the estate, by showing them that she understands what he does and does not own and owe. She must then take the helm, and bring debtors, pre tended creditors, administrators, and all, to time; which ignorance of his business affairs prevents her doing. Yet many husbands operate in and of themselves from year to year, without telling their wives one word about their affairs. " I know no more about my husband's business than the dead," is a common saying. Is this conjugal? Has not a wife a right to know? Two similar brothers married twin sisttia, but pursued these two opposite courses : A, telling his wife all he learned; at dinner what he had seen and done since breakfast, and at night, during the day; his heart yearning, after he had learned anything of interest till he had imparted it to her ; while B kept learning without communicating any of his self-improvement or business affairs to his wife, or talking to her except about some common-place home affairs. A, by thus keep ing his wife growing along up with him in knowledge, spirit, and culture, kept their mutual affections warm and fresh ; while B's wife declined till they lost all affinity, because she had remained so far below him as to compel him to look down on her with pity, and regret that he was tied for life to one so obviouslv his inferior. Said a widow : " When I married him I loved my husband some ; yet as I lived on with him, my affections reincreased, till my whole soul was wrapped up in complete de votion to him ; when he one day received a letter in the parlor, which I wanted to see-^ Eve's curiosity which he refused, till, I per; sisting, he finally bluffed me off; and that bluff stuck a cold dagger through my very soul. I found my heartstrings breaking one after another, till the last tie that bound me to him was severed. Then hatred super vened; I was glad when he went to his store, sorry when he returned; glad when he went to New York for goods, sorry when, he came back ; glad when he died!" " He began it" by that incipient divorce of the letter, which effected a like divorce throughout all their other relations, and finally broke the back of its instigator. Divorce in this matter of the letter initiated a complete divorce throughout. Husbands who are Occasional Callers. " My husband is off most of the time, and I'm glad of it; for I don't know what I should do if he wasn't." So say many wives of their heathenish husbands. " My wife is fretful, and keeps complain ing to me about this, that, and the other thing, servants, and every little household vexation." So say many weary husbands of their peevish wives. " My husband comes home surly and gram, combative and " " True, wife, yet this is incidental to my business. I know it is wrong, but I get heated in the struggle, and come home thoroughly provoked. Never mind it It is my business, not me." " I could excuse that ; but on entering he throws his head back, feet up, and taking the last paper, reads on, says nothing about 176 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. what lie reads, sometimes finds something to laugh at which I do so wish he would tell me, along with his business, or any outside news till, dinner announced, he eats in silence ; when, putting on his hat he says, 'Wife, I shall not return to tea to-night. Do TYPE OF A BRUTAL HUSBAND Ix>w forehead ; defective intellectual and moral facul ties ; coarse nature ; pride and self-conceit predominant. not wait for me, or even sit up ; for I may remain out quite late.' He says: "'Wife, here are garden and gardener. Manage both, and see that garden truck enough is raised for winter ;' whereas, if he would only once a week show some interest in it, say, ' That is well, but this might be bettered thus,' I should be so delighted. He says: " 'There are horses and groom. Ride out when and where you please; they will be the better for daily exercise ;' whereas, if he would only ride out with me once a week, the memory of that ride would so sanctify the others as to render them also delightful ; yet, as it is, I take no pleasure in them. He says: " ' I furnish money enough for the educu- tion of our children, but you must see to all its details, and say what studies and teachers they shall have, for I cannot bother with them ;' whereas, if he would only go once per quarter to their ' examinations,' see their progress, and advise with me, I and they would be so delighted ; but he is always too tired, or too busy ! He says : " ' Get and discharge just such and as many servants as you please, but do not trouble me with your petty household cares ;' whereas, if he would only hear my sad tale, and sym pathize with me but, no ; I must worry on all alone. I am perfectly lonely, and almost crazy for want of some one to share my life with me." That poor wife tells the heart-story of wives in untold numbers, if not in these particulars, at least in the general features of their case. They are perishing by slow but agonizing inches for want of some one, if only a colored servant, with whom to talk over their pent-up heart-troubles. " The Green-Eyed Monster." We now come to a matter of the greatest possible importance ; namely, that great troubler of the married state, that great bane of families, jealousy. This is always an unfortunate thing, and sometimes fatal. Yet, if there be a great propensity towards it, it is very difficult to be prevented. One thing, however, every husband can do in the way of prevention ; and that is, to give no ground for it. And here, it is not sufficient that he strictly adhere to his marriage vow 5 he ought further to abstain from every act, however free from guilt, calculated to awaken the slightest degree of suspicion in a mind, the peace of which he is bound by every tie of justice and humanity not to disturb, or , if he can avoid it, to suffer it to be disturbed by others. THE MODEL HUSBAND. 177 A woman that is very fond of her husband, and this is the case with nine-tenths of Am erican women, does not like to share with another any, even the smallest portion, not only of his affection, but of his attentions and praise; and, as bestowing them on another, and receiving payment in kind, can serve no purpose other than of gratify ing one's vanity, they ought to be abstained from, and especially if the gratification be purchased with even the chance of exciting uneasiness in her, whom it is your sacred duty to make as happy as you can. Domestic Charity. If the mind of a wife be disturbed on this score, every possible means ought to be used to restore it to peace ; and though her suspi cions be perfectly groundless; though they be wild as the dreams of madmen ; though they may present a mixture of the furious and the ridiculous, still they are to be treated with the greatest lenity and tenderness ; and if, after all, you fail, the frailty is to be lamented as a misfortune, and punished as a fault, seeing that it must have its foundation in a feeling towards you, which it would be the basest of ingratitude, and the most feroci ous of cruelty, to repay by harshness of any description. The truth is, that the greatest security of all against jealousy in a wife is to show, to prove by your acts, by your words also, but more especially by your acts, that you prefer her to all the world ; and, as I said before, I know of no act that is, in this respect, equal to spending in her company every moment of your leisure time. Everybody knows, and young wives better than anybody else, that people who can choose will be where they like best to be, and that they will be along with those whose company they best like. If fond of home they will be there. 12 If acts of kindness in you are necessaiy in all cases, they are especially so in cases of her illness, from whatever cause arising. I will not suppose myself to be addressing any hus band capable of being unconcerned while his wife's life is in the most distant dangei from LIEUTENANT JAMES B. LOCKWOOD. Compact, symmetrical organization; very deter mined ; fine example of heroic will, resolute action and successful enterprise; reached the highest point ever gained in Arctic exploration. illness, but, far short of this degree of brutal ity, a great deal of fault may be committed. When men are ill, they feel every neglect with double anguish, and what then must be, in such cases, the feelings of women, whose ordinary feelings are so much more acute than those of men ; what must be theij feelings in case of neglect in illness, and espe cially if the neglect come from the husband I Such neglect is unbearable. Your own heart will tell you what those feelings must be, and will spare me the vain attempt to describe them ; and, if it do thus instruct you, you will want no arguments to 178 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. jiduce you, at such a season, to prove tlie sincerity of your affection by every kind word and kind act that your mind can suggest This is the time to try you ; and, be you assured, that the impression left on her mind now will be the true and lasting impression ; and, if it be good, will be a better preservative against her being jealous, than ten thousand of your professions ten thousand times repeated. In such a case, you ought to spare no expense that you can possibly afford ; you ought to neglect nothing that your means will enable you to do ; for, what is the use of money if it be not to be expended in this case? Butj more than all the rest, is your own personal attention. This is the valuable thing ; this is the great balm to the sufferer, and it is efficacious in proportion as it is proved to be sincere. Leave nothing to other hands that you can do yourself; the mind has a great deal to do in all the ailments of the body; and, bear in mind, that, whatever be the event, you have a more than ample reward. We cannot press this point too strongly upon you ; the bed of sickness presents no charms, no allurements, and women know this well ; they watch, in such a case, your every word and every look ; and now it is that their confidence is secured, or their suspicions excited, for life. Push and Perseverance. Keep the conviction firmly fixed on your mind, that you have no right to live in this world ; that, being of hale body and sound mind, you have no right to any earthly existence, without doing work of some sort or other, unless you have ample fortune whereon to live clear of debt ; and, that even in that case, you have no right to breed children to be kept by others, or to be ex- posed to the chance of being so kept. To wish to live on the labors of others is, besides the folly of it, to contemplate a fraud at the least, and, under certain circumstances, to meditate oppression and robbery. He who lives upon anything except hifi own labor, is incessantly surrounded by rivals ; his grand resource is that servility in which he is always liable to be surpassed. He is in daily danger of being outbidden; his very bread depends upon caprice ; and he lives in a state of uncertainty and never- ceasing fear. His is not, indeed, the dog's life, "hunger and idleness;" but it is worse;, for it is "idleness with slavery," the latter being the just price of the former. And remember this : you are to labor for an object, the happiness of your wife, the welfare of your household. What worthier object can there be ? Count the cost, and strike the balance a? to the difference between a lovely and hateful wife, and then "cipher out" the value of a good one. Solomon placed it " far above rubies," and rubies are far above your store trash. Yet even he did not duly estimate her full value. Next, by addition and sub traction, aided by the Rule of Three, " deci pher" how much that man gains who, by delving early and late at his eternal "busi ness," spoils a good wife, in and by letting her affections run down or die out. Next, by addition and multiplication, find out how much is gained by cherishing them, and thereby perpetually reimproving both her and yourself. Dollars cannot measure such problems. What shall it profit a man if, in gaining the whole world, he spoils or loses a good wife? And yet most of our shrewd est business men daily pocket this very loss! (T MISS .MELANIE) MACKLIN, Colored Beauty of St Louis. MRS. W. H. STEWARD, Louisville, Ky., Handsome Afro-American Woman. ABOVE GOLD, DIAMOND-SET MEDALS WERE OFFERED BY THE APPEAL TO THE BEAUTIFUL MAIDEN AND MARRIED LADY OF THE RACE, AND WERP- WON BY Miss MACKLIN AND MRS. STEWARD. GROUP OF INTELLIGENT, NEATLY DRESSED AFRO-AMERICAN CHILDREN " Suffer little children and forbid them not to come unto me, for of such is the kingdom of heaven." Matthew 19-14. CHAPTER XVI. The Care and Management of Children ; or Health and Happiness for the Little Ones, B following plain, golden rules for the care and management of children from the pen of the world- are renowned physician, Dr. Pye Henry Cha- vasse, who is known in both Europe and America as authority upon all matters relat ing to health and disease. He has the rare faculty of uniting good common sense with the most profound learning and skill. Dr. Chavasse says : The nursery ought to be the largest and the most airy room in the house. In the town, if it be in the topmost story (provided the apartment be large and airy) so much the better, as the air will then be purer. The architect, in the building of a house, ought to be particularly directed to pay attention to the space, the loftiness, the ventilation, the light, the warming, and the conveniences of a nursery. A bath-room attached to it will be of great Importance and benefit to the health of a child. The ventilation of a nursery is of para mount importance. There ought to be a constant supply of fresh pure air in the apartment. But how few nurseries have fresh, pure air ! Many nurseries are nearly hermetically sealed the windows are seldom, if ever, opened; the doors are religiously closed ; and, in summer time, the chimneys are carefully stuffed up, so that a breath of air is not allowed to enter! The conse quences are, the poor, unfortunate children are "poisoned by their own breaths," and are made so delicate that they are constantly catching cold ; indeed, it might be said that are laboring under chronic catarrhs, all arising from Nature's laws being set at dfc fiance. The windows ought to be large, and should be made to freely open both at top and bot tom. Whenever the child is out of the nursery, the windows ought to be thrown wide open ; indeed, when he is in it, if the weather be fine, the upper sash should be a little lowered. A child should be encouraged to change the room frequently, in order that it may be freely ventilated ; for good air is as necessary to his health as wholesome food^ and air cannot be good if it be not frequently changed. If you wish to have a strong and healthy child, ponder over and follow this advice. I have to enter my protest against the use of a stove in a nursery. I consider a gas stove without a chimney to be an abomina tion, most destructive to human life. There is nothing like the old-fashioned open fire place with a good-sized chimney, so that it may not only carry off the smoke, but also the impure air of the room. Be strict in not allowing your child either to touch or to play with fire ; frightful acci dents have occurred from mothers and nurses being on these points lax. The nursery ought to have a large fire-guard, to go all round the hearth, and which should be suffi ciently high to prevent a child from climb ing over. Not only must the nursery have a guard, but every room where he is allowed to go should be furnished with one on the bars. Moreover, it will be advisable to have 9 guard in every room where a fire is burning, 179 180 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. to prevent ladies from being burned. For tunately for them, preposterous crinolines are out of fashion ; lady-burning ought not to be considered one of the institutions of our land. There will be too many accidents even with the utmost care and caution. A nursery is usually kept too hot ; the temperature in the winter time ought not to exceed 65 degrees Fahrenheit. A good thermometer should be considered an indis pensable requisite to a nursery. A child in a hot, close nursery is bathed in perspiration ; if he leave the room to go to one of lower temperature, the pores of his skin are sud denly closed, and either a severe cold, or an inflammation of the lungs, or an attack of bronchitis, is likely to ensue. Moreover, the child is both weakened and enervated by the heat, and thus readily falls a prey to disease. A child ought never to be permitted to sit with his back to the fire ; if he be allowed, it weakens the spine, and thus his whole frame ; it causes a rush of blood to the head and face, and predisposes him to catch cold. Everything Must be Pure. Let a nurse make a point of opening the nursery window every time that she and her little charge leave the nursery, if her absence be only for half an hour. The mother her self ought to see that this advice is followed, pure air is so essential to the well-being of a child. Pure air and pure water, and let me add, pure milk, are for a child the grand and principal requisites of health. Look well to the drainage of your house and neighborhood. A child is very suscept ible to the influence of bad drainage. Bad drains are fruitful sources of scarlet fever, of diphtheria, of diarrhoea, etc. It is sad to be reminded that, whatever evils threaten the health of population, whether from pollu tions of water or of air whether from bad drainage or overcrowding, they fall heavies^ upon the most innocent victims upon chil dren of tender years. Their delicate frame* are infinitely more sensitive than the hard ened constitutions of adults, and the breath of poison, or the chill of hardships, easily blights their tender life. A nursery floor ought not to be washed oftener^than once a week; and then the child or children should, until it be dry, be sent into another room. Poisonous Wall-Paper. The constant wetting of a nursery is a fre quent source of illness among children. The floor ought, of course, to be kept clean ; but this may be done by the servant thoroughly sweeping the room out every morning before her little charge makes his appearance. Do not have your nursery wall covered with green paper-hangings. Green paper- hangings contain large quantities of arsenic arseniteofcopper(Scheele'sgreen) which, I need scarcely say, is a virulent poison, and which flies about the room in the form of powder. There is frequently enough poison on the walls of a room to destroy a whole neighborhood. There is another great objection to having your nurseiy walls covered with green paper- hangings ; if any of the paper should become loose from the walls, a little child is very apt to play with it, and to put it, as he does everything else, to his mouth. This is not an imaginary state of things, as four children in one family have been known to lose theii lives from sucking green paper-hangings. Green dresses, as they are colored with a preparation of arsenic, are equally as danger ous as green paper-hangings ; a child ought, therefore, never to wear a green dress. " It may be interesting to some of our readers," says Land and Water , "to know that the THE ALL-IMPORTANT NURSERY. 181 new gteen, so fashionable for ladies' dresses, is just as dangerous in its nature as the green wall-paper, about which so much was written some time since. It is prepared with a large quantity of arsenic ; and we have been assured by several leading dressmakers, that the work women employed in making up dresses of this color are seriously affected with all the symp toms of arsenical poisoning. Let our lady friends take care." Dangerous Toys. Children's toys are frequently painted of a green color with arsenite of copper, and are consequently, highly dangerous for them to play with. The best toy for a child is a box of unpainted wooden bricks, which is a con stant source of amusement to him. If you have your nursery walls hung with, paintings and engravings, let them be of good quality. The horrid daubs and bad engrav ings that usually disfigure nursery walls, are enough to ruin the taste of a child, and to make him take a disgust to drawing, which would be a misfortune. A fine engraving and a good painting expand and elevate his mind. We all know that first impressions are the most vivid and the most lasting. A taste in early life for everything refined and beautiful purifies his mind, cultivates his in tellect, keeps him from low company, and makes him grow up a gentleman ! Lucifer matches, in case of sudden illness, should, both in the nursery and in the bed room, be always in readiness ; but they must be carefully placed out of the reach of chil- \ iren, as lucifer matches are a deadly poison. Many inquests have been held on children who have, from having sucked them, been poisoned by them. Have you any observation to make on the light of a nursery ? Let the window, or what is better, the windows, of a nursery be very large, so as to thoroughly light up every nook an<3 corner of the room, as there is nothing more conducive to the health of a child than an abundance of light in the dwelling. A room cannot, then, be too light. The windows of a nursery are generally too small. A child requires as much light as a plant. Gardeners are well aware of the great importance of light in the construction of their greets houses, and yet a child, who requires it 3d much, and is of much greater importance, is cooped up in dark rooms ! Let in Light and Sunshine. The windows of a nursery ought not only to be frequently opened to let in fresh air, but should be frequently cleaned, to let in plenty of light and of sunshine, as nothing is so cheering and beneficial to a child as an abundance of light and sunshine ! With regard to the best artificial light for a nursery. The air of a nursery cannot be too pure ; I therefore do not advise you to have gas in it, as gas in burning gives ofl quantities of carbonic acid and sulphuretted hydrogen, which vitiate the air. Tne kero sene lamp, too, makes a room very hot and close. There is no better light for a nursery than either patent candles or the electric light Let a child's home be the happiest house to him in the world ; and to be happy he must be merry, and all around him should be merry and cheerful; and he ought to have an abundance of playthings, to help on the merriment. If he have a dismal nurse, and a dismal home, he may as well be incarcerated in a prison, and be attended by a jailor. It is sad enough to see dismal, doleful men and women, but it is a truly lamentable and unnatural sight to see a dole ful child ! The young ought to be as play ful and as full of innocent mischief as a kitten. There will be quite time enough ili after years for sorrow and sadness. 182 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. Bright colors, plenty of light, clean win dows (mind this, if you please), an abund ance of good colored prints, and toys without number, are the proper furnishings of a nur sery. Nursery! why the very name tells you what it ought to be -the home of child hood the most important room in the house a room that will greatly tend to stamp the character of your child for the re mainder of his life. Have you any hints to offer conducive to the well-doing of my child ? You cannot be too particular in the choice of those who are in constant attendance upon him. You yourself, the mother, of course must be his head-nurse you only require some one to take the drudgery off your hands ! You ought to be particularly care ful in the selection of his nurse. She should be steady, lively, truthful and good tem pered; and must be free from any natural Imperfection, such as squinting, stammering, etc., for a child is such an imitative creat ure that he is likely to acquire that defect which in the nurse is natural. Children, like babies, are quick at " taking notice." What they see they mark, and what they jnark they are very prone to copy. The Good Nurse. She ought not to be very young, or &ne may be thoughtless, careless and giggling. You have no right to set a child to mind a child ; it would be like the blind leading the blind. No I a child is too precious a treas ure to be entrusted to the care and keeping oi a young girl. Many a child has been ruined for life by a careless young nurse dropping him and injuring his spine. A nurse ought to be both strong and active, in order that her little charge may have plenty of good nursing ; for it requires great strength in the arms to carry a heavy child for the space of an hour or two at a stretch, in the open air; and such is abso lutely necessary, and is the only way to make him strong and to cause him to cut his teeth easily, and at the same time to regulate his bowels ; a nurse, therefore, must be strong and active, and not mind hard work, for hard work it is ; but, after she is accustomed to it, pleasant notwithstanding. Ghosts and Hobgoblins. Never should a nurse be allowed to weai a mask, nor to dress up and paint herself as a ghost, or as any other frightful object A child is naturally timid and full of fears, and wliat would not make the slightest impres sion upon a grown-up person might throw a child into fits " The sleeping, and the dead, Are but as pictures : 'tis the age of childhood That fears a painted devil." Shakespeare. Never should she be permitted to tell her little charge frightful stories of ghosts and hobgoblins ; if this be allowed, the child's disposition will become timid and wavering, and may continue so for the remainder of his life. If a little fellow were not terrified by such stories, the darkness would not frighten him more than the light. Moreover, the mind thus filled with fear, acts upon the body, and injures the health. A child must never be placed in a dark cellar, nor frightened by tales of any sort. Instances are related of fear thus induced impairing the intellect for life, or causing dangerous illness. Night-terrors. This frightening of a child by a silly nurse frequently brings on night-terrors. He wakes up suddenly, SOCK after going to sleep, frightened and terrified , screaming violently, and declaring that he has seen either some ghost, or thief, or some object that the silly nurse had been previ ously in the day describing, who is come for him to take him away. The little fellow is THE ALL-IMPORTANT NURSERY. 183 the very picture of terror and alarm; lie hides his face in his mother's bosom, the perspiration streams down him, and it is some time before he can be pacified when, at length, he falls into a troubled feverish slumber, to awake in the morning unre- freshed. Night after night these terrors harass him, until his health materially suf fers, and his young life becomes miserable, looking forward with dread to the approach of darkness. Treatment of night-terrors. If they have been brought on by the folly of the nurse, discharge her at once, and be careful to select a more discreet one. When the child retires to rest, leave a candle burning, and let it burn all night ; sit with him until he be asleep ; and take care, in case he should rouse up in one of his night-terrors, that either yourself or some kind person be near at hand. Do not scold him for being fright ened he cannot help it ; but soothe him, calm him, fondle him, take him into your arms, and let him feel that he has some one to rest upon, to defend and to protect him. It is frequently in these cases necessary before he can be cured to let him have change of air and change of scene. Let him live, in the day time, a great part of the day in the open air. Let the Child Romp. I have seen in the winter time a lazy nurse sit before the fire with a child on her lap, rubbing his cold feet just before putting him to his bed. Now, this is not the way to warm his feet The right method is to let him romp and run either about the room, or the landing, or the hall this will effectually warm them ; but, of course, it will entail a little extra trouble on the nurse, as she will have to use a little exertion to induce him to do so, and this extra trouble a lazy nurse will not relish. Warming the feet before the fire will give the little fellow chilblains, and will make him when he is in bed more chilly. The only way for him to have a good romp before he goes to bed, is for the mother to join in the game. She may rest assured, that if she does so, her child will not be the only one to benefit by it. She herself will find it of marvellous benefit to her own health ; it will warm her own feet, it will be almost sure to insure her a good night, and will make her feel so light and buoyant as almost to fancy that she is a girl again! Well, then, let every child, before going to bed, hold a high court of revelry, let him have an hour the children's hour devoted to romp, to dance, to shout, to song, to riot, and to play, and let him be the master of th* revels Between the dark and the daylight, When the night is beginning to lower, Conies a pause in the day's occupation, Which is known as the Children's Hour. Longfellfw. Let a child be employed take an interest in his employment, let him fancy that he is useful and he is useful, he is laying in a stock of health. He is much more usefully employed than many other grown-up chil dren are. A child should be happy; he must, in every way be made happy ; everything ought to be done to conduce to his happiness, to give him joy, gladness, and pleasure. Hap py he should be, as happy as the day is long, Kindness should be lavished upon him v Make a child understand that you love him; prove it in your actions these are better than words ; look after his little pleasures join in his little sports ; let him never hear a morose word it would rankle in his breast, take deep root, and in due time bring forth bitter fruit. Love ! let love be his pole-star ; let it be the guide and the rule of all you do and all you say unto him. Let your face, as 1 84 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. well as your tongue, speak love. Let your hands be ever ready to minister to his pleas- tires and to his play. The Power of Love. Says Douglass Jerrold : " Blessed be the hand that prepares a pleasure for a child, for there is no saying when and where it may again bloom forth. Does not almost every body remember some kind-hearted man who showed him a kindness in the dulcet days of childhood? The writer of this recollects himself, at this moment, a bare-footed lad, standing at the wooden fence of a poor little garden in his native village, while, with long ing eyes, he gazed on the flowers which were blooming there quietly in the brightness of the Sabbath morning. The possessor came from his little cottage. He was a wood cutter by trade, and spent the whole week s-t work in the woods. He had come into the garden to gather flowers to stick in his coat when he went to church. He saw the boy, and breaking off the most beautiful of his carnations (it was streaked with red and white), he gave it to him. Neither the giver nor the receiver spoke a word, and with bounding steps the boy ran home. And now here, at a vast distance from that home, after so many events of so many years, the feeling of gratitude which agitated the breast of the boy, expressed itself on paper. The carnation has long since faded, but it now bloometh afresh." The hearty, ringing laugh of a child is sweet music to the ear. There are three most joyous sounds in nature the hum of a bee, the purr of a cat, and the laugh of a child. They tell of peace, of happiness, and of contentment, and make one for a while forget that there is so much misery in the world. A man who dislikes children is unnatural ; he has no " milk of human kindness " in him ; he should be shunned. Give me, for a friend, a man Who takes the children on his knee, And winds their curls about his hand. Tennyson. If a child be peevish, and apparently in good health, have you any plan to propose to allay his irritability ? A child's troubles are soon over his tear? are soon dried; "nothing dries sooner than a tear" if not prolonged by improper man agement The tear down childhood's cheek that flows Is like the dew-drop on the rose ; When next the summer breeze comes by, And waves the bush, the flower is dry. Scott. Never allow a child to be teased ; it spoils his temper. If he be in a cross humor take no notice of it, but divert his attention to some pleasing object. This may be done without spoiling him. Do not combat bad temper with bad temper, noise with noise. Be firm, be kind, be gentle, be loving, speak quietly, smile tenderly, and embrace him fondly, but insist upon implicit obedience, and you will have with God's blessing a happy child "When a little child is weak From fever passing by, Or wearied out with restlessness , Don't scold him if he cry. Tell him some pretty story Don't read it from a book ; He likes to watch you while you speak. And take in every look. " Or sometimes singing gently A little song may please, With quiet and amusing words, And tune that flows with ease. "Or if he is impatient, Perhaps from time to time A simple hymn may suit the best, In short and easy rhyme. " The measured verses flowing In accents clear and mild, May blend into his troubled thought, And soothe the little child. " But let the words be simple, And suited to his mind, And loving, that his weary heart A resting-place may find." THE ALL-IMPORTANT NURSERY. 185 Speak gently to a child ; speak gently to all; but more especially speak gently to a child. " A gentle voice is an excellent thing in a woman," and is a jewel of great price, and is one of the concomitants of a perfect lady. Let the hinges of your disposition be well oiled. Would to heaven there were more of them! How many there are who never turn upon the hinges of this world without a grinding that sets the teeth of a whole household on edge ! And somehow or other it has been the evil fate of many of the best spirits to be so circumstanced. To these especially the creakings of those said rough hinges of the world is one continued torture, for they are all too finely strung; and the oft-recurring grind jars the whole sentient frame, mars the beautiful lyre, and makes cruel discord in a soul of music. How much of sadness there is in such thoughts ! Seems there not a Past in some lives, to which it is impossible ever to become rec onciled ? Let Your Words be Pleasant. Pleasant words ought always to be spoken to a child; there must be neither snarling, nor snapping, nor snubbing, nor loud con tention towards him. If there be it will ruin his temper and disposition, and will make him hard and harsh, morose and dis agreeable. Do not always be telling your child how wicked he is ; what a naughty boy he is ; that God will never love him, and all the rest of such twaddle and blatant inanity ! Do not, in point of fact, bully him, as many poor little fellows are bullied ! It will ruin him if you do ; it will make him in after years either a coward or a tyrant. Such conversations, like constant droppings of water, will make an impression, and will cause him to feel that it is of no use to try to be good that he is hopelessly wicked ! Instead of such language, give him confi dence in himself; rather find out his good points and dwell upon them ; praise him where and whenever you can; and make him feel that, by perseverance and by God's blessing, he will make a good man, Speak truthfully to your child ; if you once deceive him, he will not believe you for the future. Not only so, but if you are truthful yourself, you are likely to make him truthful like begets like. There is something beautiful in truth ! A lying child is an abomination ! Sir Walter Scott says " that he taught his son to ride, to shoot, and to tell the truth." Archdeacon Hare asserts " that Purity is the feminine, Truth the masculine of Honor." As soon as a child can speak he should be made to lisp the noble words of truth, and to love it, and to abhor a lie ! What a beau tiful character he will then make ! Blessed is the child that can say " Parental cares watched o'er my growing youth, And early stamped it with the love of truth." Have no favorites, show no partiality ; for the young are very jealous, sharp-sighted, and quick-witted, and take a dislike to the petted one. Do not rouse the old Adam in them. Let children be taught to be " kindly affectioned one to another with brotherly love ; " let them be encouraged to share each other's toys and play-things, and to banish selfishness. Attend to a child's little pleasures. It is the little pleasures of a child that constitute his happiness. Great pleasures to him and to us all (as a favorite author remarks) comt but seldom, and are the exceptions, and not the rule. Let a child be nurtured in love. " It will be seen," says the author of John Halifax, "that I hold this law of kindness as the Alpha and Omega of education. I once asked one, in his own house, a father in 1 86 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. everything but the name, his authority un questioned, his least word held in reverence, his smallest wish obeyed 'How did you ever manage to bring up these children?' He said, ' By love? " Old Children. Let every word and action prove that you love your children. Enter into all their little pursuits and pleasures. Join them in their play, and be a " child again ! " If they are curious, do not check their curiosity; but rather encourage it; for they have a great deal as we all have to learn, and how can they know if they are not taught ? You may depend upon it the knowledge they obtain from observation is far superior to that obtained from books. Let all you teach them, let all you do, ai*u let all you say bear the stamp of love. A placid, well-regulated temper is very conducive to health. A disordered or an overloaded stomach, is a frequent cause of peevishness. Appropriate treatment in such a case will, of course, be necessary. My child stammers: can you tell me the cause, and can you suggest a remedy f A child who stammers is generally " ner vous," quick, and impulsive. His ideas flow too rapidly for speech. He is "nervous;" hence, when he is alone, and with those he loves, he oftentimes speaks fluently and well ; he stammers more both when he is tired and when he is out of health when the nerves are either weak or exhausted. He is emo tional : when he is either in a passion or in excitement, either of joy or of grief, he can scarcely speak "he stammers all over." He is impulsive : he often stammers in conse quence. He is in too great a hurry to bring out his words ; they do not flow in proper sequence : hence his words are broken and disjointed. Stammering, of course, might be owing either to some organic defect, such as from defective palate, or from defective brain, then nothing will cure him ; or it might be owing to "nervous" causes to "irregular nervous action," then a cure might, with care and perseverance, be usually effected. In all cases of stammering of a child, let both the palate of his mouth and the bridle of his tongue be carefully examined, to see that neither the palate be defective, nor the bridle of the tongue be too short that he be not tongue-tied. How to Cure Stammering. Now with regard to Treatment. Make him speak slowly and deliberately ; let him form each word, without clipping or chop ping ; let him be made, when you are alone with him, to exercise himself in elocution. If he speak quickly, stop him in his mid- career, and make him, quietly and deliber ately, go through the sentence again and again, until he has mastered the difficulty ; teach him to collect his thoughts, and to weigh each word ere he give it utterance ; practice him in singing little hymns and songs for children ; this you will find a valu able help in the cure. A stammerer seldom stutters when he sings. When he sings, he has a full knowledge of the words, and is obliged to keep in time to sing neither too fast nor too slow. Besides, he sings in a dif ferent key to his speaking voice. Many pro fessors for the treatment of stammering cure their patients by practicing lessons of a sing- song character. Never jeer him for stammering, nor turn him to ridicule ; if you do, it will make him ten times worse ; but be patient and gentle with him, and endeavor to give him confi dence, and encourage him to speak to you as quietly, as gently and deliberately as you speak to him ; tell him not to speak until he THE ALL-IMPORTANT NURSERY. 187 rranged his thoughts and chosen his words ; let him do nothing in a hurry. Demosthenes was said, in his youth, to have stammered fearfully, and to have cured him self by his own prescription, namely, by putting a pebble in his mouth, and declaim ing, frequently, slowly, quietly, and deliber ately, on the sea-shore the fishes alone being his audience until at length he cured him self, and charmed the world with his eloquence and with his elocution. He is held up, to this very day, as the personification and as the model of an orator. His patience, persever ance, and practice ought, by all who either are stammerers, or are interested in them, to be borne in mind and followed. Plain Rules for Health. Do you approve of a carpet in a nursery ? No ; unless it be a small piece for a child to roll upon. A carpet harbors dirt and dust, which dust is constantly floating about the atmosphere, and thus making it impure for him to breathe. The truth of this may be easily ascertained by entering a darkened room, where a ray of sunshine is struggling through a crevice in the shutters. If the floor of a nursery must be covered, let drug get be laid down ; and this may every morn ing be taken up and shaken. The less furni ture a nursery contains the better ; for much furniture obstructs the free circulation of the air and, moreover, prevents a child from taking proper play and exercise in the room an abundance of which are absolutely necessary for his health. Do you approve, during the summer months, of sending a child out before break fast? I do, when the weather will permit, and provided the wind be neither in an easterly nor in a northeasterly direction ; indeed, he can scarcely be too much in the open air. He must not be allowed to stand about in draughts or about entries, and the only way to prevent him doing so is for the mother herself to accompany the nurse. She will then kill two birds with one stone, as she will, by doing so, benefit her own as well as ba 1 child's health. , Ought a child to be early put on his feei tt walk? No ; let him learn to walk himself. He ought to be put upon a carpet; and it will be found that when he is strong enough, he will hold by a chair, and will stand alone; when he can do so, and attempts to walk, he should then be supported. You must, on first putting him upon his feet, be guided by his own wishes. He will, as soon as he is strong enough to walk, have the inclination to do so. When he has the inclination and the strength it will be folly to restrain him ; if he have neither the inclination nor the strength, it will be absurd to urge him on. Rely, therefore, to a certain extent, upon the inclin^'on of the child himself. Self-reliance cannot oe too early taught him, and, indeed, every one else. Crooked Leg's. In the generality of instances, however, a child is put on his feet too soon, and the bones, at that tender age, being very flexible, bend, causing bowed and bandy-legs ; and the knees, being weak, approximate too closely together, and thus they become knock-kneed. This advice of not putting a child early on his feet, I must strongly insist on, as many mothers are so ridiculously ambitious that their young ones should walk early that they should walk before other children of their acquaintance have attempted that they have frequently caused the above lamentable deformities. Supposing it to be wet under foot^ but dry i88 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. above, do you then approve of sending a child out? If the wind be neither in the east nor the north-east, and if the air be not damp, let him be well wrapped up and be sent out If he be laboring under an inflammation of the lungs, however slight, or if he be just recovering from one, it would, of course, be highly improper. In the management of a child, we must take care neither to coddle nor to expose him unnecessarily, as both are dangerous. Never send a child out to walk in a fog ; he will, if you do, be almost sure to catch cold. It would be much safer to send him out in rain than in a fog, though neither the one nor the other would be desirable. Keep the Blood Circulating. How many times a day in fine weather ought a child to be sent out? Let him be sent out as often as it be pos sible. If a child lived more in the open air than he is wont to do, he would neither be so susceptible to disease, nor would he suffer so much from teething, nor from catching cold. Supposing the day to be wet, what exercise would you then recommend? The child ought to run either about a large room, or about the hall ; and if it does not rain violently, you should put on his hat and throw up the window, taking care while the window is open that he does not stand still. A wet day is the day for him to hold hi. c high court of revelry, and "to make him as happy as the day is long." Do not on any account allow him to sit any length of time at a table, amusing him- Belf with books ; let him be active and stir ring, that his blood may freely circulate as it ought to do, and that his muscles may be well developed. I would rather see him actively engaged in mischief than sitting still, doing nothing ! He ought to be put on the floor, and should then be tumbled and rolled about, to make the blood bound merrily through the vessels, to stir up the liver, to promote digestion, and to open the bowels. The misfortune of it is, the pres ent race of nurses are so encumbered witb long dresses, and so screwed in with tight stays (aping their betters), that they are not able to stoop properly, and thus to have a good game of romps with their little charges, " Doing nothing is doing ill," is as true a saying as was ever spoken. Supposing it to be winter, and the weather very cold> would you still send a child out ? Decidedly, provided he be well wrapped up. The cold will brace and strengthen him. Cold weather is the finest tonic irj the world. To Prevent Falling. In frosty weather, the roads being slippery when you send him out to walk, put a pau of large old woolen stockings over his, boots or shoes. This will not only keep his feet and his legs warm, but it will prtvant him from falling down and hurting himself. A child, in the winter timt?, requires, to keep him warm, plenty of flannel and plenty of food, plenty of fresh ai'.d genuine milk, and plenty of water in bis tub to wash and bathe him in the mornwg, plenty of exercise and plenty of play, a^d then he may brave the frosty air. It iit the coddled, the half- washed, and the half-starved child (half washed and half-j/Larved from either the mother's ignorance or from the mother's timidity), that 7,3 the chilly starveling- catching cold at every breath of wind, and every time he either walks or is carried out a puny, skim? /, scraggy, scare-crow, more dead than alive, and more fit for his grave THE ALL-IMPORTANT NURSERY. 189 t'han for the rough world he will have to struggle in ! 7f the above advice be strictly followed, a child may be sent out in the coldest weather, even When icicles hang by the wall, And Dick, the shepherd, blows his nail', And Tom bears logs into the hall, And milk comes frozen home in pail. Shakespeare. Amusements for Children. Have you any remarks to make on the amusements of a child ? Let the amusements of a child be as much as possible out of doors ; let him spend the greater part of every day in the open air ; let him exert himself as much as he please, his 'eelings will tell him when to rest and wiien ,o begin again ; let him be what Nature in- Bended him to be a happy, laughing, joyous ihild. Do not let him be always poring over books : Books ! ' tis a dull and endless strife, Come, hear the woodland linnet I How sweet his music ! On niy life, There's more of wisdom in it. And hark ! how blithe the throstle sings I He, too, is no mean preacher ; Come forth into the light of things, Let Nature be your teacher. She has a world of ready wealth, Our minds and hearts to bless, Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health, Truth breathed by cheerfulness. One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man, Of moral evil and of good, Than all the sages can. Wordsworth. Ke ought to be encouraged to engage in 'hose sports wherein the greatest number of muscles are brought into play. For instance, io play at ball, or hoop, or football, to play at horses, to run to certain distances and back ; ind, if a girl, to amuse herself with a skip ping rope, such being excellent exercise By sports like these are all their cares beguiled, The sports of children satisfy the child. Goldsmith. Every child, where it be practicable, should Have a small plot of ground to cultivate, that he may dig and delve in. and make dirt pica if he choose. Children now-a-days, unfor tunately, are not allowed to soil their hands and their fine clothes. For my own part, I dislike such model children ; let a child be natural let him, as far as is possible, choose his own sports. Do not be always interfere ing with his pursuits, and be finding fault with him. Remember, what may be amus ing to you may be distasteful to him. I do not, of course, mean but that you should constantly have a watchful eye over him ; yet do not let him see that he is under restraint or surveillance; if you do you will never discover his true character and inclinations. Not only so, but do not dim the bright sun, shine of his early life by constantly checking and thwarting him. Tupper beautifully says And check not a child in his merriment- Should not his morning be sunny ? When, therefore, he is either in the nursery or in the play-ground, let him shout and riot and romp about as much as he please. His lungs and his muscles want developing, and his nerves require strengthening ; and how can such be accomplished unless you allow them to be developed and strengthened by natural means? The nursery is a child's own domain ; it is his castle, and he should be Lord Paramount therein. If he choose to blow a whistle, or to spring a rattle, or to make any other hideous noise, which to him is sweet music, he should be allowed, without let or hin* drance, to do so. If any members of the family have weak nerves, let them keep at a respectful distance. Good Little Idiots. A child who never gets into mischief must be either sly, or delicate, or idiotic ; indeed, the system of many persons, in bringing up children, is likely to make them either the ;OURT5HIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. one or the other. The present plan of train ing children is nearly all work (books), and very little play. Play, and plenty of it, is necessary to the very existence of a child. A boy not partial to mischief, innocent mischief, and play, is unnatural ; he is a man before his time t he is a nuisance, he is dis agreeable to himself and to every one around. He is generally a sneak and a little humbug. Female Simpletons. Girls at the present time, are made uever jrimpletons; their brains are worked with useless knowledge, which totally unfits them for every-day duties. Their muscles are al lowed to be idle, which makes them limp and flabby. The want of proper exercise ruins the complexion, and their faces become of the color of a tallow candle ! And precious wives and mothers they make when *hey do grow up I What an unnatural thing it is to confine a child several hours a day to his lessons ; why you might as well put a colt in harness, and make him work for his living ! A child is made for play ; his roguish little eye, his little figure, his antics, and his drollery, all point out that he is cut out for play that it is as necessary to his existence as the food he eats, and as the air he breathes! His lessons should be such as will amuse while they in struct. A child ought not to be allowed to have playthings with which he can injure either himself or others, such as toy-swords, toy- cannons, toy-paint-boxes, knives, bows and arrows, hammers, chisels, saws, etc. He will not only be likely to injure himself and others, but will make sad havoc on furniture, house, and other property. Fun, frolic, and play ought, in all innocent ways to be en couraged ; but wilful mischief and danger ous games ought, by every means, to be dis countenanced. This advice is frequent much needed, as children prefer to have am delight in dangerous toys, and often coax, and persuade weak and indulgent mothers to gratify their wishes. Parents often make Sunday a day c* gloom : to this I much object. Of aF tlte days in the week, Sunday should be the most cheerful and pleasant. It is considered by the Church a festival ; and a glorious festival it ought to be made, and one on which our Heavenly Father wishes to see all His children happy and full of innocent joy ! Let Sunday, then, be made a cheerful, joyous, innocently happy day, and not, as it frequent ly is, the most miserable and dismal in the week. It is my firm conviction that many men have been made irreligious by the ridic ulously strict and dismal way they were compelled, as children, to spend their Sun days. You can no more make a child re ligious by gloomy asceticism, than you can make people good by Act of Congress. Criminal Folly. One of the great follies of the present age is children's parties, where they are allowed to be dressed up l^ke grown-up women, stuck out in petticoats, and encouraged to eat rich cake and pastry, and to drink wine, and to sit up late at night! There is something disgusting anil demoralizing in all this. Their pure minds are blighted by it Do not let me be misunderstood : there is not the least objection, but, on the contrary, great advantage, for friends' children to meet friends' children ; but then let them be treated as children, and not as men and women ! Do you approve of public play-grounds for children ? It would be well, in every village, and in the outskirts of every town, if a large plot d ground were set apart for children to play in THE ALL-IMPORTANT NURSERY. 191 and to go through regular gymnastic exer cises. Play is absolutely necessary to a child's very existence, as much as food and sleep. Play-grounds and play are the best schools we have ; they teach a great deal not taught elsewhere ; they give lessons in health, which is the grandest wealth that can be bestowed "for health is wealth:" they prepare the soil for the future schoolmaster ; they clear the brain, and thus the intellect ; they strengthen the muscles ; they make the blood course merrily through the arteries; they bestow healthy food for the lungs ; they give an appetite ; they make a child, in due time, become every inch a man ! Play grounds and play are one of the finest institu tions we possess. What would our large public schools be without their play and ball grounds? They would be shorn of half their splendor and their usefulness ! There is so much talk now-a-days about useful knowledge, that the importance of play and play-grounds is likely to be forgot ten. I cannot help thinking, however, that a better state of things is dawning. It seems to be found out that in our zeal for useful knowledge, that knowledge is found to be not the least useful which treats boys as active, stirring, aspiring, and ready. Mistakes of Education. Do you approve of infant schools f I do, if the arrangements be such that health is preferred before learning. Let children be only confined for three or four hours a day, and let what little they learn be taught as an amusement rather than as a labor. A play-ground ought to be attached to an infant school ; where, in fine weather, for every half-hour they spend in-doors, they should spend one in the open air ; and, in wet weather, they ought to have, in lieu of the play-ground, a large room to romp, and shout, and riot in. To develop the different organs, muscles, and other parts of the body, children require fresh air, a free use of their lungs, active exercise, and their bodies to be thrown into all manner of attitudes. Let a child mope in a corner, and he will become stupid and sickly. The march of intellect, as it is called, or rather the double quick march of intellect, as it should be called, has stolen a march upon health. Only allow the march of intellect and the march of health to take equal strides, and then we shall have " menA sana in cor pore sano" (a sound mind in 9 sound body). In the education of a young child it is better to instruct him by illustration, by pic tures, and by encouraging observation on things around and about him, than by books. It is surprising how much, without endangering his health, may be taught in this way. Over Education. Children at the present day are too highly educated their brains are over-taxed, and thus weakened. The consequence is, that as they grow up to manhood, if they grow up at all, they become fools ! Screw not the cord too sharply, lest it snap. Tennyson. You should treat a child as you would a young colt. Think only at first of strength" ening his body. Let him have a perfectly free, happy life, plenty of food to eat, abund ance of air to breathe, and no work to do j there is plenty of time to think of his learn ing of giving him brain work. It will come sadly too soon ; but do not make him old before his time. At what age do you advise my child to begin his course of education to have his regular lessons? In the name of the prophet Figs ! Fid dlesticks ! about courses of education COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. regular lessons for a child i You may as well ask me when he, a child, is to begin Hebrew, the Sanscrit, and Mathematics ! Let him have a course of education in play ; let him go through regulpj: lessons in foot-ball, bandy, playing at hares and hounds, and such like excellent and really useful and health-giving Wessons. Begin his lessons ! Begin brain work, and make an idiot of him ! Oh ! for shame, ye mothers ! You who pretend to love your children so much, and to tax, otherwise to injure, irreparably to injure their brains, and thus their intellects and their health, and to shorten their very days. And all for what? To make prodigies of them ! Fo-3ooth ! to make fools of them in the erA. Well, then, as you have such a great objec tion to a child commencing his education early in life, at what age may he, with safety, com mence his lessons f Remember, as above stated, the brain must have but very little work until the child be seven years old : impress this advice upon your memory, and let no foolish ambi tion to make your child a clever child allow you, for one moment, to swerve from this advice. Build up a strong, healthy body, and in due time the brain will bear a moderate amount of intellectual labor. Let me advise you, Mr. Paterfamilias, to be careful how you converse, what language you use, while in the company of your child. Bear in mind, a child is very observant, and thinks much, weighs well, and seldom forgets ail you say and all you do I Let no hasty word, then, and more especially no oath, or no impious language, ever pass your lips, if your child be within hearing. It is, of course, at all times wicked to swear ; but it is heinously and unpardonably sinful to swear in the presence of your child ! "Childhood is like a mirror, catching and reflecting images. One impious or profane thought, uttered by a parent's lip, may operate upon the young heart like a careless spray of water thrown upon polished steel, staining it with rust, which no after-scouring can efface. " Never talk secrets before a child "little pitchers have long ears ; " if you do, and he disclose your secrets as most likely he will and thus make mischief, it will be cruel to scold him ; you will, for your imprudence, have only yourself to blame. Be most care ful, then, in the presence of your child, of what you say, and of whom you speak. This advice, if followed, might save a great deal of annoyance and vexation. Are you an advocate for a child being taught singing ? I am : I consider singing a part of his education. Singing expands the walls of his chest, strengthens and invigorates his lungs, gives sweetness to his voice, improves his pronunciation, and is a great pleasure and amusement to him. Importance of Sleep. Do you recommend a child, in the middle of the day, to be put to sleep ? Let him be put on his mattress awake, that he may sleep for a couple of hours before dinner, then he will rise both refreshed and strengthened for the remainder of the day. I said, let him be put down awake. He might, for the first few times, cry, but, by perseverance, he will without any difficulty fall to sleep. The practice of sleeping before dinner ought to be continued until he be three years old, and, if he can be prevailed upon, even longer. For if he do not have sleep in the middle of the day, he will all the afternoon and the evening be cross ; and when he does go to bed, he will probably be THE ALL-IMPORTANT NURSERY. 193 too tired to sleep, or his nerves having 1 been exhausted by the long wakefulness, he will fall into a troubled, broken slumber, and not into the sweet, soft, gentle repose, so charac teristic of healthy, happy childhood. At what hour ought a child to be put to bed in the evening ? At six in the winter, and at seven o'clock in the summer. Regularity ought to be observed, as regularity is very conducive to health. It is a reprehensible practice to keep a child up until nine or ten o'clock at night. If this be done, he will, before his time, become old, and the seeds of disease will be sown. How Ought a Child's Feet to be Clothed? He ought, during the winter, to wear lamb's wool stockings that will reach above the knees, and thick calico drawers that will reach a few inches below the knees ; as it is of the utmost importance to keep the lower extremities comfortably warm. It is really painful to see how many mothers expose the bare legs of their little ones to the frosty air, even in the depths of winter. Be sure and see that the boots and shoes of your child be sound and whole; for if they be not so, they will let in the damp, and if the damp, disease and perhaps death. If the poor would take better care of their children's feet, half the infantile mortality would disappear. It only costs a few cents to put a piece of thick felt or cork into the bottom of a boot or shoe, and the difference is often between that and a doctor's bill, with, perhaps, the undertaker's besides. Garters ought not to be worn, as they im pede the circulation, waste the muscles, and interfere with walking. The stocking may be secured in its place by means of & loop and tape, fastened to a part of the dress. Let me urge upon you the importance of lot allowing your child to wear tight shoes ; 13 they cripple the feet, causing the joints of the toes, which ought to have free play, and which should assist in walking, to be, in a manner useless ; they produce corns and bunions, and interfere with the proper cir culation of the foot. A shoe ought to be made according to the shape of the foot rights and lefts are therefore desirable. The toe-part of the shoe must be made broad, so as to allow plenty of room for the toes to ex- pand, and that one toe cannot overlap another. Be sure, then, that there be no pinching and no pressure. A shoe for a child ought to be made with a narrow strap over the instep, and with button and button hole ; if it be not made in this way, the shoe will not keep on the foot It is a grievous state of things, that in the nineteenth century there are but few shoe makers who know how to make a shoe! The shoe is made not to fit a real foot, but a fashionable imaginary one ! The poor un fortunate toes are in consequence screwed up as in a vise ! Let me strongly urge you to be particular that the sock, or stocking, fits nicely that it is neither too small nor too large ; if it be too small, it binds up the toes unmerci fully, and makes one toe to ride over the other, and thus renders the toes perfectly use less in walking; if it be too large, it is necessary to lap a portion of the sock, or stocking, either under or over the toes, which thus presses unduly upon them, and gives pain and annoyance. After weaning, a child's diet should con sist at first principally of milk, and only by degrees should custards and gruels be added until solid food is given. Meat broth in which a raw egg has been beaten up may be followed by oatmeal gruel, barley water mixed with milk, later on by rice, sago, 01 194 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. farina cooked in milk, and at last by finely cut meat and bread or crackers. " The child must learn never to drink its milk rapidly. The daily quantum of meat, preferably beef, lamb, or poultry, may be increased to three or four ounces, to be given in two meals." Spiced foods or drinks, coffee, tea, wine, beer, and sharp condiments, are to be avoided. When recovering from exhausting disease rich wines or malt extracts are allowable, but they are to be prescribed only by the physician. Potatoes, in whatever form, are to be given very sparingly, anu so too is black bread. It is a very bad practice for parents to give their little ones a portion of everything that comes upon the table. It 13 much better to give the children their meals before dinner or supper time, and not to let them sit at the table at all. Toward the end of the third or at the be ginning of the fourth year of its life a child should be taught to accustom itself to cold air and to somewhat cooler water. It is not well, however, to force the hardening of children in this respect Many children have an antipathy to cold, and often it affects dis astrously the brain or lungs. Cleanliness should be inculcated in every respect, as to dresses and underwear, eating and drinking, and all other requirements. But we must not be too rigid and exacting in this respect The child's play and its freedom of movement in the open air should not be allowed to be hampered. This brings to mind the story related of Emperor Joseph II. , of Austria, who, when a boy, was asked 'dy his governor what present he would most like upon his birthday. " Only let me play 9nce the way those children are allowed to play," he answered, and pointed to a num ber of children digging in a large heap of MO& The dresses should be short and should not fit tightly, the head and neck should be left entirely free, and only against the sun, cold and wind should protection be given. Mental training ought continually to be regarded, and it should be consistent, dispas sionate, and severe, but at the same time lov ing words should show the child that all is meant for its own good. A great blessing, especially to parents who have little time to spare, are kindergartens after the method of Froebel. During their school years children require an abundance of good, substantial food. No coffee or tea is necessary: milk and cocoa are much more heathful. Some parents are accustomed to forbid the use of salt, of dishes which contain much fat, and the free con sumption of drinking-water. This must not be overdone, since the human body re quires a considerable supply of both salt and water. In boarding-schools and other institutions the children should be dressed alike, the quality of the goods as well as the cut and color of wearing apparel being exactly simi lar, in order to prevent ill-feeling upon the one side or assumption upon the other. Many of the styles worn by children at pres ent actually encourage the passion for dress and finery, especially in girls, and show that parents do not love their children as they should. Mothers with common sense always strive to promote a taste for simplicity, which alone is really aristocratic, and thereby to prevent their daughters from holding as their sole object in life the ridiculous and unnat ural passion for expensive dress, jewelry, and display, which constitutes the sole ambition of so many women. Extravagant dress is seldom accompanied with neatness and taste, without which all dress is an abomination. CHAPTER XVII. Home Occupations for Leisure Hours. [ERE has been a revival of taste in common things, and we care much more than our grandparents did about surrounding ourselves with beauty. The struggle of life was harder for them, and they had not time, as we have, for adorning tables and chairs, arranging corners so that they are artistic and not hideous, and making windows and walls rich with color and fair with softly falling drapery. Embroidery. Among the most popular home occupa tions for ladies at the present day, we may name embroidery. The loom and the spin ning-wheel, in one simple form or another, are as old as history, and our devotion to the embroidery frame is only a return to the work which mediaeval ladies found delight ful. True, few of them could read or write, and so the needle was their only form of ex pression, while all doors are open to us. But, though not shut up to embroidery, it is pleasant work for a group of merry girls or thoughtful women. To speak of materials, the most expensive are silk, velvet, tissue, gold and silver cloth, velveteen, and plush. Among cheaper ma terials which are available in household art, are linens of various degrees of fineness, crash, sateen, Bolton, sheeting, serge, and canton flannel. Imagine the old funereal parlor with ghostly windows, hung with white shades, a marble mantel deathly white, a marble- topped table with a few ambrotypes and animals in led and gilt on its chilly surface, and then think how even such a room may bloom in brightness when a fair magician has touched it with her needle. Behold! Creamy curtains drape the windows, a lam brequin covers the frozen mantel, the tables are hidden under cloths which make each a warm and glowing spot to attract the eye, and a screen cuts off the angles, while the room seems to invite you in to rest and be refreshed. Every lady wno gives her mind to it, whether greatly skilled or not, can improve a dull and dingy room by a few judicious alterations, and every young girl may, if she choose, learn to embroider at odd moments, and little by little transform her abode from ugliness to beauty. Crewels are used for working on linen, serge and flannel. Tapestry wool is much thicker than crewel and is useful on coarse fabrics. Embroidery silk is preferred for silk, satin, or fine materials. In working with crewels, cut your threads into short lengths. It is difficult to use too long a thread without puckering up the work. Plush, which is the most elegant and effective material for banners, draperies, and covers, is very costly. A good quality is worth $4.50 a yard. Woolen plush is a little less than silk, but is also expensive. Canton flannel which comes in double width, and finished alike on both sides, in all the rich and desirable colors, can be bought for ninety cents a yard. Felting, which is thick and stubborn, though useful for some purposes, costs $1.50 195 196 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. a yard, and is two yards wide. Velveteen tan be had from $1.00 a yard and upward. Velvets and satins cost anywhere from $3.00 to $6.00, and satin brocatelle is $10.00 a yard. STITCHES. Stem-stitch is very simple. It is just a single long stitch forward, and a short one backward, and then another long ttitch a little in advance of the first. In working outlines, great care must be taken to keep precisely the line of the pattern, and to keep the thread to the left of the needle. Some knowledge of drawing is necessary to a good embroiderer. Leaves and flowers or conventional designs, should be nicely drawn o* stamped before beginning to work, though sometimes a lady is so deft with her needle that she can compose her pattern as she goes on. The stem-stitch may be longer or shorter according to fancy, but it must be even. Split-stitch is a variety of stem-stitch, but in bringing the needle up through the mate rial, it is passed through the embroidery silk or crewel. Satin-stitch is the same on both sides. The needle must be taken back each time to the point from which it started. Rope-stitch is a twisted chain-stitch ; blanket-stitch is the ordinary buttonhole stitch less closely worked, and feather-stitch is a broken stitch, worked in a light airy way, to suit the convenience of the seamstress. Drawn-work consists in drawing out the threads of linen, and working designs, or filling in the sort of lace foundation thus made with whatever stitch the lady pleases. This is very lovely for tidies, and for the bordering of pillow-shams, spreads, and curtains. The embroiderer needs a smooth thimble, as a sharp one catches in her silk, a very gharp and pointed pair of scissors, and a set of needles of different sizes. The best crewels will not be injured by a careful laundress. Covers of linen or sheet ing, should be dipped in water in which bran has been boiled. Never use soda, soap, or washing-powders for your pretty things. Do not wring them, but rinse with care, hang up to dry, and when almost dry stretch care fully on a flat surface and fasten with pins: you may thus safely clean all cheap embroi * dered work. Very costly articles, when soiled, which need not be the case in years of use, should be taken to a cleaner. Applique work is simply transferred work. Cut out pretty figures from damask or cre tonne, or the best parts of old and worn embroideries, and fasten them securely on a foundation of lace, linen or silk. Pretty Things which may be Embroidered. To leave curtains, lambrequins, screens, and panels, which are larger undertakings than some busy women have time for, cush ions and chair-backs may be made in great variety. Sofa cushions are always desirable as gifts. A long narrow cushion for the back of an invalid's chair, or a neck-rest for a rocker, covers of cool gray linen to be slipped over a chair that has lost its freshness, covers of all kinds, little round mats for the table, scarf-shaped pieces to brighten the centre of a dinner-table, portfolios and letter- cases, slippers, neck ribbons, and dainty sewing and knitting-aprons, with pockets to hold a bit of work and a thimble, and the needles in their sheath, are among the articles clever girls can have on hand. Tissue Paper. Cut a piece of paper the size yoi\ wish your mat to be, including the fringe. The mat is prettiest made of two contrasting colors, and you need two whole sheets cut into eight square pieces. Take the sixteen pieces and fold each one HOME OCCUPATIONS FOR LEISURE HOURS. 197 over about three-quarters of an inch wide. After all are folded, braid or weave them to gether, half one way and half another, to form a square. Sew the outside pieces as far as the centre of your mat, then cut the fringe as deep as you wish it, and dampen it by pressing on it a wet cloth. Shake it very gently until it is dry. The fringe will curl up and be very pretty. Tissue paper flowers are made by cutting the petals as much like real flowers as possi ble, and fastening them by stems of flexible wire. This is nice work for little fingers. Crochet. The little crochet hook is very old. Its charm is that with so small a tool so many beautiful things may be produced. From a counterpane to a collar, almost anything may be made with the crochet needle. Babies' afghans diid sofa quilts for convalescents are often crocheted. There are few occupations more fascinating than this. Knitting 1 . The delight of knitting is its sociability. One must give her close attention to her em broidery, but the lady who knits may talk at the same time, and be witty or wise as she pleases. What pictures rise in our mind's eye of dear old ladies knitting by the fire, their silvery needles flashing and their thoughts busy with the past. Shawls for breakfast or evening wear are both knitted and crocheted. Among our most dearly- prized treasures is a sofa-quilt, knitted in broad stripes, each like a gay Roman ribbon, and crocheted together in black and gold, with deep fringe knotted in the edge, the work of a lady who has counted her seventy-six years, and reached life's evening leisure. Patch-Work. Let no one despise this homely art. It is an accomplishment worth boasting of to make a really elegant patch-work quilt. *f yots have pretty patterns or can procure them, save them carefully, for sooner or later you will meet some elderly woman who keeps a quilt on hand, and fills up her " betweenities" by combining tints and matching pieces with, poetic harmony. Elegant Drawn Work. Since much of the popular fancy-work of to-day consists of what is genetally known as drawn work, we will devote some sp.ce to a description of the various stitches axid designs used in that form of No. 1. To Hemstitch a Doily. for the home. We will commence at the beginning with the simple hemstitch, and thence proceed with the more difficult de signs. Draw six threads one inch and an eightb from the edge, on all its four sides, and baste the hem so that it will be a half-inch wide. Beginning at the left side of doily, fasten the thread. Be sure the knot is out of sight Place the needle in under five or six threads from right to left, draw it through and take an ordinary hemming stitch at the right of the threads, as in illustration No. i. A practiced eye will not need to count th<* number of threads. COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE, Draw out three or four threads about two indies from the edge, the distance determin- i tig the depth of your fringe ; then taking No. 2. For a Fringed Doily. Jp a group of threads, as in illustration No. 3, draw the thread, with which you are forking, down tightly under the needle point toward your right, thus tying a firm No. 3. knot and securing an edge which would otherwise soon become loose and inelegant, |f it did not ravel out. If at first this knot is a stumbling bloc! and looks clumsy, console yourself by think- ing that in it is contained the essence of drawn work, and that when it is once con quered and can be made quickly and evenly and almost unconsciously, what follows is comparatively easy. After going around your piece of work with this stitch, begin a* the inside to draw the threads for your fringe. The next step is the preparation of our work for a narrow pattern an inch wide*. No. 4. We draw out threads for that space, and fasten each side with the stitch shown in No. 2. All work ready for a design to be executed on it must present appearance o! No. 3. Any uneven divison of threads will cause confusion and a most unsatisfactory result Some of the simplest designs are shown in No. 4. Doubtless they are familiar to every one, disagreeably so, it may be, for their endless repetition row upon row, as WR are used to seeing them on bouffet scarfs, 7S HOME OCCUPATIONS FOR LEISURE HOURS. 199 tiresome in the extreme. Perhaps I shall be able to demonstrate further on their proper use in setting off or relieving more elaborate work; so you are to take my word for it that they come in properly right here. And now, if those who have followed me so far wish to continue under my leadership, r they will not regret (if they have fallible memories like mine) starting a sampler. I have one a strip of ecru niomie cloth about a yard long and an eighth wide, covered with patterns. This valuable piece of linen preserves for me many ideas which would otherwise have been lost, gathered as they were in various places at widely separ ated times. Of its usefulness to others you No. 5. may judge when I tell you it has traveled from Halifax to California, and has been photographed by some of its admirers who could not keep it long enough to master all its details. So then let me urge you to commence a sampler, and on my word you will never regret so doing. So far we have gone without any artificial aid ; but beyond this we cannot progress without a frame of some kind to hold our work firmly in place. Those of us who live in large cities can easily procure the light cloth-covered wooden frames sold for this purpose, in the fancy goods stores. If these are not obtainable, almost any hardware merchant or plumber will make, for about fifteen cents, a good frame of boiler-wire, bent in shape with the ends welded together. This must be wound with strips of cotton cloth torn straight, not cut bias. There is yet another way: Anyone possessing some smooth strips of pine wood and a little iii- genuity can construct a frame as serviceable, perhaps, as either of the others. No matter how the result is reached so that it gives you a firm, not too heavy cloth-covered frame, half a yard long by not over eight inches wide. On this is securely basted whatever article is to be decorated. No. 6. A word right here about linen thread : Some dry goods stores have two or three kinds of spool-linen many more keep only one manufacturer's thread. If you have thre^ together, it is an easy task to decide which suits you best in texture and color, but if only one kind is at hand, and that proves in using to be harsh, uneven or knotty, next time try another manufacture. I hesitate to name the thread I prefer myself, lest I seem to discriminate against the others nearly as good ; so experience will be your best guide, and not a very dear one with linen only ten cents for two hundred yards ; and softness 2OO COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. and evenness of finish, and harmony of color will determine your choice. And now we enter upon a new field of study in which one may become hopelessly involved unless content to advance one step at a time. Supposing the work to be care fully basted on a frame of some sort (a round embroidery hoop serves admirably for sam ples), and a space less than an inch wide drawn out, the threads divided, with a slender darning-needle and No. 25 thread, divide the strands of your open space into No. 7. groups of four or five, and knot them firmly down the middle. This is illustrated by thread a in No. 5. Then with a longer thread, 3, knot each strand of the groups separately, crossing and recrossing the divid ing line a. The thread c is used exactly as b, only that at the intersection of the three threads, another knot is tied. If you wish this knot to be more conspicuous, a deft weaving of your thread in and out, around the centre will make it so. For No. 6 a little wider space is drawn Dut, another strand is added in each group and another thread each side of the middle line. At the intersection of all the threads, a knot is tied as in No. 5, and the wheel is made by simple basket-weaving in and out around the centre until the desired size is reached. In No. 7 a yet wider space is prepared, the limit being from one-and-a-half inches to two-and-a-half. Here each group con tains eight strands, and three threads are used each side of the middle. The greatei No. 8. space is here filled in with a large wheei made by back-stitching round and round the. central knot. The success of this wheel depends entirely upon the angle at which each line crosses the middle, and upon the evenness of tension of the radiating spokes. If these spokes of your backstitched wheel will lean, and twist and curve, don't dis* hearten yourself; fingers and eyes will do better and truer work every time. No. 8 keeps still the thread down the middle. You don't know yet what a help HOME OCCUPATIONS FOR LEISURE HOURS. 201 that dividing line has been to you, nor will you appreciate it until, as with other bless ings, you have to do without it In this No. 8 we take a still wider space ; increase again the number of working threads. Learn a new wheel and an altogether new design. For this pattern the space may be from two to four inches, the narrower being best to prac tice on and the wider being used mostly for showy, open drapery. The eight strands of each group are a very convenient number to work on, though sometimes on a material of closer mesh, ten strands give the same effect. For the wheel begin as before, with a knot at the intersection of all the threads, and then knot each radiating thread round and round the centre until the space is filled. It does not at all resemble a spider's web here, does it ? Just try it some time when you have a great, bare, square corner to fill, and see then how the knots will dwindle away and the spider's web appear. Now we come to the new design and to the end of our second lesson. As you see by the illustration, there are eight converse threads on each side of the middle line. We begin at the centre and weave our thread just as one darns a stocking, in and out, back and forth through six threads in two of the groups, and through three in the other two composing the figure. Less practice is re quired to become skillful in doing this, than in making any of the wheels ; and alternating with the wheel in No. 7, it makes up one of the most popular patterns of drawn work. Has this lesson been long and difficult? Learn it well, then, for next time we must do without aids we have had here and depend more and more each one on her own judg ment. Going on with our study we reach the point where we must learn to do without the straight thread through the middle of our work. It has been a great help this dividing line, for if made right in the first place the rest of the pattern could not ge very far askew. Perhaps No. 9 will be better than any other to try first without our old guide. Bach group of six strands is tied firmly in the centre, as we have learned before, only on the wrong side in this case, and the working llllllllj thread is carried up to the '""' margin and down to the No ' 9> next group to be fastened v and so on across the frame. It might be easier, after tying each group, to cut off the thread, but that would leave raw ends which would be sure to show. There is nothing else about No. 9, I think, that needs expla nation. In No. 10 we go a step furthei and separ ate the strands in two places. It may require some practice to do this well and keep all the spaces even, but the ex perience will be valuable, for the design is one upon which may be rung a dozen changes. By in creasing the number of spaces and working threads, it can be made as wide as you will, and this can be said of very few other drawn- work patterns. No. ii is merely a modification of No. 9, the groups containing eight strands instead of six, and the working threads crossing at one point instead of at right an gles, as in No. 9. It is one of those patterns that look well on any material, and may be made almost any NO. 11. width not over fovu inches. No. 1O. 2O2 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. I would try drawing out a space about two inches wide for a sample. You see I am taking it for granted you have followed my advice about a sample. If I had not my own before me as I write, I should not be able to instruct you at all ; for while I might still have a dim and general idea of drawn- work and might be able to do some pretty, hap- No, is. hazard work, I should long since have forgotten the number of inches and knots and strands. No. 12 brings us to something more diffi cult, but which amply repays any time and skill spent in learning it, as it is the most showy work we have considered. It is essentially a design for light, open-meshed material, such as linen scrim, and is never en tirely satisfactory on heavier linen. I call No. 12 showy, but it cannot be made very wide, not much over two inches, and is always supplement ed by something simple and narrow on each side. The great fault I find with people who try to learn No. 12 is that they are deter mined to make it wide, the effect is spoiled and the pretty wheel anything but a wheel. But to go back for a little explanation. I take for granted we have a space about two inches drawn out, and groups of eight strands separated and tied firmly. Before this we have worked in the space between each NO. 14. two groups, but now, you will see by the illustration, we skip with our working threads entirely over each alter- nate group. No. 12 shows how this is done. Nos. 13 and 14 I introduce without ex planation, just to show you how almost every design is susceptible of endless variation ac cording to the ingenuity, taste and fabric used by each individual worker. Doubtless there are others which our readers would wish added to these; but the scope of my plan in preparing these papers, No . 15 . only permits me to give such instruction as shall enable you to copy other designs you may come across elsewhere. And now just a word about fringes. The manner of preparing work that is to be fringed out has been described in the first ot these articles. No. 15 shows the simplest kind of a knotted fringe. No. 1 6 a plain, woven fringe, and No. 17 a popu lar combination of the two. If you will use a crochet needle to draw the strands through in weav ing or knotting, you can NO. 16. work much more quickly than without its use. Begin always at the right hand side of your work, follow care fully every detail of the pattern you are copying. When you can tie a row straight across your work, and can do plain weaving well, then, but not before, try No. 1 8. In this the fringe is divided into groups of eight strands, and each group is woven into a square. Going back to the beginning weave a second row of squares be low the first, and tie this NO. 17 HOME OCCUPATIONS FOR LEISURE HOURS. 203 No. 18. group into a .hard knot. That makes the broken-looking weaving just above ach tassel. These tassels may be long or sh jrt, half a finger or quarter of a yard in depth, according to the article they are designed to arnainent There are hundreds of other fringes, just as there are many other drawn- work designs. I have given these partic ular patterns because they seemed to me spe cially useful to begin ners. A neat and serviceable scarf for a butler's tray may be made of heavy butcher's linen, hemstitched on its two sides and fringed ac cording to any one of the above designs, Decalcomanie. Beautiful jars, vases, umbrella holders, and boxes may be made in this favorite work, for which scrap pictures are necessary. It requires taste to arrange these tastefully, and when well gummed, they should be varn ished to preserve them, and to impart a finish. Potichomanie requires glass for its foundation. Choose boxes, vases, or bowls of clear, flawless glass. Cut and gum your picture very carefully on the vase, which must then be varnished. Imitate Chinese, Assyrian, or Etruscan vases, if you wish, but do not undertake this work in a hurry. Pass a coating of gum over the inside of the vase, then, if the outside is quite dry, paint it in oil, in any color you please. Tall vases to fill with cat-tails, grasses, and clematis, or to stand with a pot-pourri inside shedding, when ever stirred, its faint, spicy odor over the drawing-room, are very important decora tions. They have an air about them as who should say, "We are of very long descent Our lineage dates back to the cradle of civili zation. Egypt knew us in her palmy days, and so did Greece and Rome." "Wax Flowers. Though three-fourths of the wax flowers made are but clumsy imitations of the lovely blossoms which adorn the garden, or smile at us from their hiding-places in the woods and wayside fields, we need not sneer at the artist in wax, nor laugh at her handiwork. For there are artists in wax flowers and fruits who are so successful as to almost cheat the bees and the birds. Do not be discouraged if your first attempts are unsuccessful. Practice in this, as in all other things, makes perfect You may have to label your productions to let people know what they are. You may try to make one flower, and come so near making another that your original thought will be entirely lost If you cannot rise above such little failures you will never become an artist. One advantage you have is that your model is perfect You are not required to make any improvements upon nature ; you have only to imitate, and your lovely pattern is before you. Practice will fit you for reproducing what nature produced in the first place, and the exact imitation of her work is what you are to aim at Your models are at hand ; spring and summer always bring them, and you have only to go to the garden or breezy field to obtain your copy. You are making flowers to blossom, leaves to put on their delicate hues, lilies to clothe themselves in purest white, fuchsias to bud and bloom. To say there is a peculiar fas cination in this art is only to express what has been realized by nearly all who have tried it And when you have succeeded and your productions bear a close resemblance to their original copies, your home has beau tiful ornaments. 204 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. In order to make a violet, a pond lily, or a pansy, well, or to combine a disli of plums and grapes with the sun-kissed peach and the yellow pear, you must study your origi nal and work from it. Take a real flower, or a real plum or peach as your model, and imitate it as closely as you can. If at first you don't succeed, try, try again, and keep on trying till you see as the result of your efforts, not a clumsy wooden affair, but some thing that is worth having and worth giving away. You do not need a great many tools, but those you have should be of the best, and should be kept clean and neat, and by them selves. Nobody should think it too much trouble to take good care of her brushes, paints, and wax. Wax should be kept in a box, closely cov ered from dust, and in a cool place. You require a brush for every color you use, strictly kept for that one tint. It is well to have a separate brush for every shade. Your sable pencils may be cleansed after using for one color, and employed in another. Always use a pair of scissors to cut out your petals, and take as your pattern the flower you wish to copy. In purchasing it is economy to go to the most trustworthy dealers and buy the very best wax. You will need white, cream- tinted, very pale green, smilax, tea-rose leaf, pale spring, and deep spring-green tints for wax, but you need not buy all these at once. It is necessary to purchase at first only a very few materials. In paints, both in powder and cake, the wax-worker should have car mine, chrome-yellow, burnt sienna, burnt umber, Prussian blue, indigo, crimson-lake, violet, carmine, rose-madder, French ultra marine, flake-white, and Indian yellow; fif teen tinting-brushes, and four sable pencils ; some modeling pins, No. i and 3, wires cov ered with silk for fine, and with cotton foa coarse stems ; a palette and a palette knife j, some best Bermuda arrow-root; green and white down for leaves ; two sizes of wooden molds for the lily of the valley, and a cutter for heliotrope, and a bar of India ink. This is a much larger outfit than the novice re quires. If you succeed with your work, you will probably obtain it gradually. To take the pattern of a petal, place it on white paper, and brush it over with a tinting- brush. The form of the petal will be left white on the paper, and may be cut out If you like, however, you may lay your petal on a piece of paper, and cut its pattern in that way. Always cut the petals with the grain of the wax. The fingers are excellent modeling tools. A few drops of glycerine used on the hands an hour or two before working makes them soft and pliant. Do not work with brittle wax. To remove its brittleness, set it awhile in a warm room, if it has been in the cold. To take a mold for flower or fruit, mix some very fine plaster of Paris in a bowl with water, to the thickness of cream. Pour it lightly over leaf, or fruit, or bud, which it is well to place for the purpose on a glass slab. In about ten minutes the plaster will be hardened sufficiently to lift it from the slab. Pare away with a penknife any plaster that may have run over. Let the mold stay in the sun, having removed the leaf or bud, until it has hardened. In twenty-four hours it will be ready for a coat of varnish, which must be very thin indeed. " To take the mold of such a flower as a fuchsia or an unopened bud ; oil it, pour you* thick plaster into a paper form, and allow the bud to sink otv its side in the plaster. Let it sink only to the centre line, leaving one-half exposed." This direction is given by a teacher of expe*ience. " Lift the mold HOME OCCUPATIONS FOR LEISURE HOURS. zoc tmt of the plaster before it is set too hard, scrape the rim smooth, and with the point of a penknife make two little cavities, one at the stem end, the other at the point where the four sepals of the calyx fold, and care fully brush away any little particles of plas ter ; place this half of the mold back in the paper form, and paint the rim, the hollow, and the little cavities with ^.weet oil ; place the bud again in the cast, and pour enough plaster over the exposed part to fill the paper form." In order to take a Wc,x mold from this, dip it into cold water, and pour melted wax into one half; fit the other half to it, turn it upside down, slowly, and hold in your hand till it has hardened. On removing the mold you will have the perfect bud. If you were able before the plaster became too firm, to bore a little hole in the mold at the stem end, you can slip the wire stem through be fore the wax hardens. Proceed in the same manner to make molds for fruit, using your judgment according to shape and size. A panel covered with black velvet, on which is fastened a dainty tea-rose and bud with a cluster of leaves, and this set upon a silvered or gilted easel is an ornament on any table. A cross of white pine, covered with wax roughly coated to resemble coral, the whole wreathed with a passion vine and flower, is a beautiful symbol at Easter ; or a cross of dark wood garlanded with leaves is very lovely. Exquisite bouquets of apple- blossoms, lilacs, and crocuses may be set in slender vases. Pond lilies look best mounted on dark green velvet, and covered with a glass case. Wax-flowers and fruit are very salable at fairs and bazaars, and the lady who knows how to make them well, is always sure of presenting her favorite table with something which will make a fine display, and bring in a good profit when disposed of. Phantom Lls, and each one is to write according to the direc tions which are given by the leads r. The 18 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. first one is told to write one or more terms descriptive of a gentleman, who does so, and then folds down the paper so as to conceal what is written, and hands it to the next one, who,after receiving the order, writes, folds the paper down as before, and passes it on to the next one, and so on, until the directions are exhausted. The leader then reads the con tents of the sheet aloud, which will cause much amusement. Let us suppose these to be the directions of the one acting as leader : " Begin by writing a term descriptive of a gentleman." "A gentleman's name; some one you know or some distinguished person." " An adjective descriptive of a lady.*' "A lady's name." "Mention a place and describe it." " Write down some date or period of time when a thing might happen." " Put a speech into the gentleman's mouth." . " Make the lady reply." "Tell what the consequences were? " "And what the world said of it? " The paper being opened, we will suppose it to read as follows : " The modest and fascinating Living Skele ton met the beautiful and charming Fat Woman at the Dime Museum, on the 4th of July, 1891. He said, * Dearest, I adore you,' and she replied, ' I'm very fond of it' The consequences were, that they were married, and the world said, 'All's well that ends well.' " Geographical Play. Let each person of a party write on a piece of paper the name of some town, coun try or province ; shuffle these tickets to gether in a little basket, and whoever draws out one is obliged to give an account of some production, either natural or manufac tured, for which that place is remarkable. This game brings out a number of curious bits of information which the party may have gleaned in reading or in travelling, and which they might never have mentioned to each other, but from some such motive. , Let us suppose there to be drawn Nurem berg, Turkey, Iceland and Florida, of which the drawers narrate thus : Nuremberg has given to the world many useful inventions. Here were first made the pocket-watch, the air-gun, gun-lock, and various mathematical and musical instru ments ; and at present half the children of Europe are indebted to Nuremberg for toys; and the industry of the inhabitants is ex tended to teaching birds to pipe. Turkey is celebrated for its costly carpets, which all the efforts of European art and capital have failed in closely imitating ; yet these carpets are woven by the women among the wandering tribes of Asiatic Tur key. The "Turkey Bird" is, however, very absurdly named, since it conveys the false idea that the Turkey orginated in Asia, whereas it is a native of America. Neither is " Turkey Coffee" grown in Turkey, but is so named from the great consumption of coffee in that country. Iceland produces in abundance a certain lichen called Iceland Moss, which is brought to America as a medicine, but is in its na tive country used in immense quantities as an article of common food. When the bitter quality has been extracted by steeping in water, the moss is dried and reduced to pow der, and then made into a cake with meal or boiled and eaten with milk. Florida is celebrated for its -mild and genial climate, its extensive orange groves, immense swamps and numerous alligators. The skin of the alligator is now used for many purposes, such as binding books, mak ing hand-bags, pocket-books, etc. HOME PASTIMES AND AMUSEMENTS. 219 Tie Wild Beast Show. A screen must be placed at the end of the room; behind it is placed a mirror and a light The showman stands before the scene and offers to exhibit his wild animals to any person who will promise not to describe what he has seen when he comes out. Then the person who gives the promise and de mands admittance is asked what animal he wishes to see. On his naming one, the shoman proceeds to describe it. The de scription should be very witty, and should have some application (either compliment ary or satirical) to the person who wishes to see the show. The person is then admitted ard is shown himself in the looking-glass. Marriages and Divorces. These two games form in fact but one, such is the resemblance between the course to be pursued by both. The company commence by seating them selves before a table ; the ladies are seated on one side, the gentlemen on the other. The gentleman and lady opposite each other are the future spouses in the game of Marriages, or the discontented spouses in the game of Divorces. If there are one or more gentlemen or ladies left after the couples have been formed, they compose the tribunal ; if there are none left, one of the couples is chosen to represent it. Then each person takes a sheet of paper, and without any concert with the others, traces upon it a sketch of his character. When all have finished, and it should be done as quickly as possible, the tribunal, which is seated at the upper end of the table, calls up the pair of future spouses most dis tant from it, and commands them to give up the several sheets of paper upon which they have written their characters the tri bunal then reads aloud the qualities or de fects which the couple have attributed to themselves. If there is a great similarity of character between the pair, they are declared man and wife, and invited to form part of the tribunal ; if, on the contrary, their tastes are opposite, the tribunal decides that there is no reason why the marriage should take place, and requires a forfeit from each. , In the game of Divorces the only difference is that the marriage is confirmed, where there is a similarity of tempers, and both are re quired to give a forfeit for having demanded a separation, without just cause ; while, on the contrary, the marriage is dissolved where incompatibility really exists, and the pair is divorced, and invited to augment the num ber of the judges. Compliments. A circle is formed ; a gentleman and lady sitting alternately. Politeness demands that the game should be commenced by a lady. " I should like, " she says, " to be such or such an animal. " (The more abject or dis gusting this animal is, the more difficult is it to invent the compliment which the lady has the right to expect) Suppose, for example, she has chosen the hornet. She inquires of her left hand neigh bor if he knows why she has made so strange a choice. The latter, who is not expected to pay her a compliment, replies simply, from the well known nature of the animal, " Because you wish that all living beings should avoid the place where you have chosen your abode. " The lady inquires of her right hand neighbor, "What advantage would I find in this transformation?" Answer. " That of escaping from a crowd of admirers whom your modesty makes you look upon as importunate." If the gentleman first addressed pays the lady a compliment, or if the second fails to 22O do so, both pay a forfeit already agreed upon. Then it becomes the turn of him who pays the compliment to form a wish. He expresses, for example, a desire to be a goose. Then he asks the lady whom he has just complimented if she can divine what can be his motive ? " It is, " she replies, "that you may inhabit indifferently either the land or the water. " Then addressing himself to the lady on his right hand, he says " What advantage would I find in such a metamorphosis ? " " The hope so dear to your heart of one day saving your country, as the geese of the capitol once saved Rome. " One round is enough at this game, because nothing is more tiresome than compliments, when prolonged, however much they may be merited. It is necessary, however, to complete the entire round, in order to de prive 110 one of his or her turn, as the little part each plays is always flattering to the vanity, even of those among the company the least susceptible of it. The Dutch Concert. In this game all the parties sit down. Each person makes a selection of an instrument say one takes a flute, another a drum, a third the trombone, and a fourth the piano, and each person must imitate in the best way he can the sound of the instrument, and the motions of the player. The leader of the band, commencing with his instrument, all the others follow, tuning some popular air, such as "Yankee Doodle," "Pop goes the Weasel," "Bobbing Around," "In the Days when we went Gipseying," or any other air. The fun consists in this, that the leader may take any instrument from either of the play ers, who must watch the leader, and take the instrument which he was previously playing. If he fails to do so, he pays a forfeit. Or if he makes a mistake, and takes the wrong , MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. instrument, he pays forfeit Suppose A be the leader, playing the violin, and B to be one of the band, playing the trombone. Directly A ceases to play the violin and imitates the trombone, B must cease the trombone, and imitate the violin, and immediately A returns to the violin, B must take the trombone, or whatever other instrument A was playing the moment before he took the violin. If he makes a mistake, he pays forfeit. This is a very laughable, though rather noisy game. It should not be continued too long. A good leader will soon be able to impose forfeits upon all the players. Tombola. This novel game is productive of much fun. The mistress of the house who desires to set up a lottery, should have provided be forehand a number of fancy articles, toys, and elegant nicknackeries ; and among these should be prepared one in particular, destined to the discomfiture of some luckless expect' ant. This lot should be carefully enveloped in several wrappers of tissue paper, and well laid up in cotton, and may consist of any absurd and childish or worthless article. It should be placed the last according to the law of gradation observed with respect to the remaining lots, set out on the table and left uncovered. When the time of drawing has arrived, the master of the house takes a pack of cards, which he distributes among the drawers, according to their several wishes an agreed price being set upon each card. When this is done he takes another pack, from which a number of cards are drawn without being looked at, equal to the number of lots, and one is placed under each. He then turns up the remainder of the pack, laying down each card in succes- HOME PASTIMES AND AMUSEMENTS. 221 f.ion and calling it out. The drawer who has a similar card to the one called out, places his beside it. When the whole are thus gone through, those who remain holders of cards corresponding to those under the lots are declared the winners ; but of what, remains to be seen. The card under each lot is called out, beginning with the first ; and the drawer who holds a similar one carries off the lot. Thus in succession through all the lots, until the last, or the great "sell" lot. So much for the technical arrangement of the game; now let us sketch its dramatic effect the movement and excitement to which it gives rise. As one by one the cards in the drawers' hands are proclaimed worthless, the laugh at their disappointment stimulates them to make another venture, and a general bidding takes place for those that remain, and as their number diminishes, and the consequent probability of any one of them becoming a prize increases, they fetch higher and still higher prices. The anxiety the mingled hope and fear with which all eyes are fixed on the card about to be turned up, are emotions which not the coolest and soberest of the company can guard against; and when, at last, the lots are distributed to the winners, each is in more or less trepidation, lest his prize entitle him to the honor of contributing to the general mirth by being presented with the "sell," and having deliberately to unfold layer after layer of the paper and wool until he reaches the kernel of the mortifying joke which is cracked against him. The mistress of the house retains from the proceeds of the lottery the cost of the various articles drawn for, and the remainder is de voted to some charitable purpose. The Bouquet. Each player in his turn supposes himself a bouquet, composed of three different flowers. Each one must name aloud to the leader oi the game the three flowers of which he con siders himself composed. The leader of the game writes down the names of the three flowers, and adds to what he has written, without informing the other, the names of any three persons of the com pany he may choose. He then asks the player to what use he intends to put the three flowers he has chosen. The player tells him to what use he means to put them, and the leader of the game applies it to the three persons that he has written down. EXAMPLE. THE LEADER OF THE GAME. Miss Julk, choose your three flowers. JULIA. The Marigold, the Bachelor's but ton, and the Rose. THE LEADER. I have written them down. Now what will you do with your Marigold ? JULIA. I will throw it over my shoulder. THE LEADER. And the Bachelor's Button ? JULIA. I will put it at my window. THE LEADER. And the Rose? JULIA. I will put it on the mantel-piece. THE LEADER. Very well, you have thrown Adolphus over your shoulder, you have put Miss Maria at your window, and adorned your mantel-piece with Charles. And now, Mr. Adolphus, it is your turn to speak Choose your three flowers. Flora's Bouquet. Each player chooses three flowers, having a well-known signification, either compli mentary or uncomplimentary, to suit the person for whom he secretly designs them ; he binds them together, deposits the bouquet in a vase, writes upon the vase a motto, and sends it to the person whom he intends it for. Even in the gift on an uncomplimen tary flower the flower itself is some compen sation for the slur it conveys. 222 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. EXAMPLE. A young lady, who is annoyed by the importunities of a disagreeable admirer, expresses herself thus: "I choose a Poppy, a Pink, and a Thistle. "The Poppy is a symbol of the wearisome- ?iess which leads to sleep, the Pink is that of gelf-conceit, and the Thistle is that of the wreath which self-conceit merits. "To tie this bouquet, I take a piece of ribbon-grass. "I place it in a vase of the commonest earth. " I write upon the vase : * Praise be accord ing to merit' " I address the whole to Mr. and spare him the trouble of thanking me." A young man composes his bouquet in the following manner: " I choose a Rose, a Pansy, and a Lily of the Valley. "The Rose is the symbol of beauty, the Pansy that of wit, and the Lily of the Valley that of virgin simplicity. "I tie this bouquet with a piece of ivy symbolical of my constancy. " I place it in a vase of gold, upon which I write: 'To Beauty, adorned by Virtue.' "And I present it to Miss ." The Blind Postman, The game of the Blind Postman is one especially adapted for a large party. It is played as follows : The postman is selected by lot, while the postmaster-general either volunteers his ser vices, or he is elected by the company. The person on whom the unwished-for honor of enacting postman falls (it may be either a lady or a gentleman) is blindfolded ; the re mainder of the company meanwhile seating themselves around the room. The number of chairs is limited, so that there shall be one less than the number of players. The post master-general then wntes the names of cei tain cities and towns on slips of paper, giv ing one to each person, so that they maj 1 remember by what name they are to answer. Should there be but few players., the namei can be given orally. The postman is placed in the centre of the room, and the postmaster* general takes up a position from which he can address the entire company. He commences the game by calling out " New York to Philadelphia " (or any othet places which he may select). The players bearing these names must instantly rise, and endeavor to change seats with each other; while the postman tries to capture one of them before they accompish the change. Should he succeed he removes the bandage from his eyes, and takes the chair which his captive has vacated, while the latter is blind folded and becomes postman in turn in ad dition to paying a forfeit Forfeits are also incurred by those svho do not spring to their feet and endeavor to change seats with the town or city whose name is called in connection with their own. Forfeits are also demanded of those who, in their hurry to be in time, answer when their name has not been called. The confusion caused by these blunders places many chances in the postman's favor. The postmaster- general may hold his appointment till the end of the game, but if he tire of his honors he may resign. Cross Purposes. THIS is another very entertaining game. One player goes round among the circle and whispers in each one's ear an answer he is to make to the next player who comes after him asking questions. For instancy Charles goes round to Nos. -f, 2, 3 and 4. To No. i he whispers " Hot, sweet, and strong/' To No. 2, "With pepper and vinegar.'* To No. 3, "With my best love." To No. 4, " No, indeed." HOME PASTIMES AND AMUSEMENTS. 223 And to the whole circle an answer of (Some kind. Jane comes after Charles, to ask any ques tions her own wit, we will suppose, may sug gest. She asks No. r s " What kind of a week have you passed?" No. i, Hot, sweet, and strong." To No. 2, Shall you ever marry ? " No. 2, "With pepper and vinegar." To No. 3, " How will you keep house on these ? " No. 3, " With my best love." To No. 4, "Do you love me ? " No. 4, "No, indeed!" Much amusement is made by the total variance of the questions and answers, and sometimes a very hard blow is administered to some of the company, but, of course, no offence should be taken. The Traveller's Tour. This game may be played by any number of persons. One of the party announces himself the Traveller, and about to take a little tour. He calls upon any of the party for informa tion respecting the objects of the greatest in terest to be noticed in the different towns and villages through which he intends passing. He is given an empty bag, and to each of the persons joining in the game are distribut ed sets of counters with numbers on. Thus, if twelve persons were playing, the counters required would be up to number twelve, and a set of ones would be given to the first per son, twos to the second, threes to the third, and so on. When the traveller announces the name of the place he intends stopping at, the first person is at liberty to give any information, or make any remark respecting it ; if he can not do so, the second person has the chance, or the third, or it passes on until some one is able to speak concerning it. If the travel ler considers it correct information, or worthy of notice, he takes from the person one of his counters, as a pledge of the obligation he is under to him. The next person in order to the one who spoke last is to proceed, so as not each time to begin with number one. If no one of the party speaks, the traveller may consider there is nothing worthy of notice at the place he has announced, and he then passes on to another. After he has reached his destination, he turns out his bag to see which of the party has given him the greatest amount of infor mation, and that person is considered to have won the game, and is entitled to be the Traveller in the next game. If it should happen that two or more per sons should have given the same number of counters, those persons are to be allowed m succession to continue to assist the Traveller and deposit their pledges, until one alone remains. EXAMPLE OF THE GAME. TRAVELLER. I intend to take a little ex cursion this summer, and shall soon start from New York for Niagara ; but as I wish to stop at several places, I shall travel slowly. My route will be by steamboat up the Hud son to Albany, thence through the centre ol the state to the Falls. NUMBER ONE. Soon after leaving New York city you come to the Palisades, which form one of the first objects of interest in your route. The noble river is then walled in for thirty miles by high precipitous rocks, upon whose summits imagination has but to place some ruined castles to suggest olden memories, and the inferiority of the scenery of the vaunted Rhine to that of the HudsoE must be confessed. TRAVELLER. Thank you for this infor mation ; pray deposit a counter in my bag, that I may remember to whom I owe it I propose to stop at Tarrytown. NUMBERS Two and THREE not answering 224 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. NUMBER FOUR. Pray visit the spot of Andre's arrest After the final arrangements with Arnold in regard to the betrayal of West Point were made, Andre proceeded on horseback to New York, and when he reach ed this spot supposed himself to be within the British lines, and thus secure from danger. Here he was stopped by three soldiers, whose names will ever be held in remembrance Paulding, Williams, and Van Wart Instead of showing his passport, he inquired whence they came, and receiving for answer " From below," he responded "So do I," showing at the same time his uniform as a British officer. "We arrest you as an enemy to our country," replied these soldiers; and resisting all his attempts at bribery, they led him captive to the head-quarters of the American general. His sad fate is well known. Hung as a spy near this place, his remains were left here a few years, but are deposited among England's illustrious dead in Westminster Abbey. Number Four deposits a counter. NUMBER SEVEN. The Hudson is rich in revolutionary reminiscences. A short dis tance from Tarrytown, on the opposite shore, you will reach Stony Point, the scene of Mad Anthony Wayne's daring exploit in 1779, when, without firing a single gun, the fort here situated was surprised and taken by as sault, forming one of the most brilliant Exploits achieved during the war. A counter of Number Seven is put into the bag. TRAVELLER. I cannot stop long here, but must proceed with my journey. Where shall I stop next? NUMBER NINE. You pass then at once into the Highlands. Here the Hudson has burst its way at some distant period through the mountains, leaving on each side a ram part of almost perpendicular hills of from six hundred to seventeen hundred feet above the level of the river. Most prominent among them are the Dunderberg, Anthony's and Butter Hill. Number Nine deposits a counter. NUMBER TWELVE. In the bosom of the Highlands you will find West Point, which is unquestionably the most romantic spot or the river. The village is placed upon tli top of a promontory one hundred and eighty- eight feet above the river, where there is spread out a level plateau or terrace more than one mile in circumference. Numbei Twelve puts a counter into the bag. TRAVELLER. Can you give me any other information ? NUMBER Two. West Point is the seat of the United States Military Academy, es tablished in 1812 ; the land was ceded to the United States by New York in 1826. Num ber Two deposits a counter. NUMBER Six. It is famous as the scene of Arnold's treason. During the Revolution this post was consideied the key of the Hud son, and a heavy chain was here stretched from shore to shore. The British were very anxious to obtain possession of this place, which they would have done had Arnold's treason succeeded. Number Six hands the Traveller a counter. TRAVELLER. Are there more objects ol interest on the river ? NUMBER EIGHT. Notice the Catskill Mountains, which present a very abrupt front to the river and run nearly parallel to it for twenty miles. The views from the Mountain House are grand and majestic up and down the Hudson one can see foi seventy milts either way and the Fall oi the Katers Kill, three miles from the House, is exceedingly beautiful. Number Eigh', deposits a counter. TRAVELLER. My time will not permit me to visit all objects and places of interest ; the principal ones must content me; mj HOME PASTIMES AND AMUSEMENTS. 225 next resting place will be the city of Albany. NUMBER THREE. You will find Albany pleasantly situated. From the top of the capitol, which is built on a hill, the view is very fine. You will find all the public State buildings worthy a visit, as well as those for educational and literary purposes, Albany being distinguished for these last. Number Oftiree deposits a counter. TRAVELLER. I shall no doubt find pleas- are in visiting them, but after leaving Albany I shall be obliged to hasten, taking the cars from there as the most expeditious way. Shall I stop at Schenectady ? No one replies, so the Traveller considers there is nothing peculiarly interesting th^re, and proceeds to another place, asking "Where would you advise me to stop? " NUMBER FIVE. The beauty of Trenton Falls is well and widely celebrated. Stop ping at Utica, you will have a slight detour of sixteen miles to make in order to reach them, but you will be fully compensated for the trouble. Number Five deposits a counter. NUMBER NINE. When again on your route, do not fail to stop at Syracuse, at which place, in connection with the village of Salina, a few miles distant, you will find the most extensive salt manufactories in the United States. Salt is obtained from the various salt-springs here abundant, in several ways, by boiling, evaporation, etc., and the processes are exceedingly interesting. Num ber Nine hands a counter. TRAVELLER. Shall I find more objects of interest here? NUMBER ELEVEN. Syracuse is situated on Onondaga Lake. In the southern part of this State lie a cluster of lakes of which this is one, all remarkable for beautiful scenery. The tourist for pleasure will not regret the time spent among them. Number Eleven deposits a counter. IS TRAVELLER. I am much indebted to my friends for the information I have received j which one will give me an account of my destination? NUMBER NINE. On the western border of the State, in a river or strait of thirty-four miles in length, running from Lake Erie to Lake Ontario, and pouring the waters of the Great Lakes over a precipice of one hundred and sixty-five feet in perpendicular height^ thunders the far-famed and unrivalled catar act of Niagara, in whose presence all stand dumb with no power to describe, but only tc wonder and adore. About three miles belou its commencement the river divides into two arms, which embrace an island called Grand Island, twelve miles long and from two tc seven wide. Nearly three miles below Grand Island the Rapids commence, and after i course of rather more than half a mile, ter minate in the Great Cataract. Goat Island, a quarter of a mile wide and half a mile long, extends to the very brow of the precipice, and divides the Falls into two portions, the highej of which is on the American side, but the greatest body of water is on the Canadian. The American Fall is again subdivided very unequally by Iris Island, with the greater of these subdivisions nearest the New York shore. Of the grandeur and sublimity of this scene, and of the emotions with which it fills the soul, I am utterly unable to speak. The Traveller having reached his place of destination, examines his bag, and finding that Number Nine has deposited the most count ers, he is considered to have won the game and is entitled to be the Traveller in the next game. The Lawyer. THE company must form in two rows, opposite to and facing each other, leaving room for the Lawyer to pass up and down between them. 226 When all are seated, the one who person ates the Lawyer will ask a question or ad dress a remark to one of the persons present, fcHher standing before the person addressed, ;>r calling his name. The one spoken to is uot to answer, but the one sitting opposite to him must reply to the question. The ob ject of the Lawyer is to make either the one he speaks to answer him, or the one that should answer to keep silent ; therefore he should be quick in hurrying from one to an other with his questions, taking them by surprise, and noticing those who are the most inattentive. No one must be allowed to remind another of his turn to speak. Wheii the Lawyer has succeeded in either making one speak that should not, or find ing any that did not answer when they should, they must exchange places with each other, and the one caught becomes Lawyer. This game will be found quite amusing if Conducted with spirit. The Sorcerer Behind the Screeti. The players conceal behind a screen, or behind the door of an adjacent chamber, the one of their number from whom they wish to obtain forfeits. The rest of the company place themselves out of his sight, and the one who leads the game calls out to him "Are you there? Are you ready?" "Yes, begin!" "Do you know Miss ?" (nam ing one of the ladies of the company) "Yes." "Do yea know her dress?" "Yes." "Her shawl? "Yes." "Do you know her slippers?" 'Yes." "Her collar?" "Yes." " Her glovts:? " " Yes."" And her ring? " "Yes." "You know then everything that fche wears?" "Yes." "Her belt?" "Yes." - ' Her fan?" "Yes." The questioner adds as many articles of dress as he pleases, or changes them at his pleasure. The other always answers, "Yes." "Since you know her so well, tell me what article of her dress I touch?" If the sorcerer has not been let into the secret before the commencement of the game, he, of course, names a number ol articles before he hits upon the right one, and he pays a forfeit for every mistake he commits; he pays a forfeit also when he names an article which the questioner has not mentioned. If acquainted with the game he would say, "You touch Miss 's ring," because this is the only article before which the questioner has placed the conjunction "and^ which is the word of recognition to the sorcerer instructed in the game. When any of the player? acquainted with the game wisli to impose upon one of their number, previous to selecting him they choose two or three sorcerers, who know the game. The latter feign to mistake once or twice to excite no suspicion, and as soon as the last one of them has guessed rightly (which he could have done at first if he had chosen), he names as his successor the pool dupe at whose expense they have previous!} agreed to amuse themselves. The Pigeon Flies. This is a very simple game. Each one of the company places a finger upon a table, or upon the lap of the leader of the game, and each must raise his finger as soon as the leader says "Pigeon (or he may name any other bird) _/&>.?." If, out of mischief he names any object that is not a bird, and anyone of the players raises his finger by mistake, the latter pays a forfeit, for he ought not to raise it excep after the name of some bird or winged insect This game teaches young people close attri tion, quick perception and ? knowledge of ornithology. CHAPTER XIX. Helps, Flints and Advice to the "Queen of the Household;'* Cooking, Preserving, Cleaning and Mending. rE following collection of receipts for use in cooking has been gathered from the best sources, and will be of great value in the kitchen. All the receipts here given are such as have been tried and proved. Beef Soup. Select a small shin of beef of moderate size, crack the bone in small pieces, wash and place it in a kettle to boil, \vith five or six quarts of cold water. Let it boil about two hours, or until it begins to get tender, then season it with a tablespoonful of salt, and a teaspoonful of pepper; boil it one hour longer, then add to it one carrot, two turnips, two tablespoonfuls of rice or pearl barley, one head of celery and a tea- spoonful of summer savory powdered fine; the vegetables to be minced up in small pieces like dice. After these ingredients have boiled a quarter of an hour, put in two potatoes cut up in small pieces ; let it boil half an hour longer, take the meat from the soup, and if intended to be seived with it, take out the bones and lay it closely and neatly on a dish, and garnish with sprigs of parsley. Serve made mustard and catsup with it It is very nice pressed and eaten cold with mustard and vinegar, or catsup. Four hours are required for making this soup. Should any remain over the first day, it may be heat- ad, with the addition of a little boiling water, and served again. Some fancy a glass of brown sherry added just before being served. Serve very hot Veal Sotlp. Put a knuckle of veal into tJiree quarto of cold water, with a small quantity of salt, and one small tablespoonfo, of uncooked rice. Boil slowly, hardly above simmering, four hours, when the liquoi should be reduced to half the usual quantity, remove from the fire. Into the tureen put the yolk of one egg, and stir well into it a teacupful of cream, or, in hot weather, new milk ; add a piece of butter the size of a hickory-nut; on this strain the soup, boiling hot, stirring all the time. Just at the last^ beat it well for a minute. Chicken Cream Soup. An old chicken for soup is much the best Cut it up into quarters, put it into a soup kettle with half a pound of corned ham, and an onion ; add four quarts of cold water. Bring slowly to a gentle boil, and keep this up until the liquid has diminished one-third, and the meat drops from the bones ; then add half a cup of rice. Season with salt, pepper, and ti bunch of chopped parsley. Cook slowly until the rice is tender, then the meat should be taken out. Now, stir in two cups of rich milk thickened with a little flour. The chicken could be fried in a spoon ful of butter and a gravy made, reserving some of the white part of the meat, chopping it and adding it to the soup. Ox-Tail Soup. Two ox-tails, two slices of ham, one ounce of butter, two carrots, two turnips, three onions, one leek, one head of celery, one bunch of savory herbs, pep per, a tablespoonful of salt, two tablespoon- fuls of catsup, one-half glass of port wine three quarts of water. Cut up the tails, separating them at thfc joints; wash them, and put them in a stew 227 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. pan with the butter. Cut the vegetables in slices and add them with the herbs. Put in one-half pint of water, and stir it over a quick fire till the juices are drawn. Fill up the stewpan with water, and when boiling, add the salt. Skim well, and simmer very gently for four hours, or until the tails are tender. Take them out, skim and strain the soup, thicken with flour, and flavor with the catsup and port wine. Put back the tails, simmer for five minutes and serve. Another way to make an appetizing ox tail soup. You should begin to make it the day before you wish to eat the soup. Take two tails, wash clean, and put in a kettle with nearly a gallon of cold water; add a nall handful of salt ; when the meat is well cooked, take out the bones. Let this stand in a cool room, covered, and next day, about an hour and a half before dinner, skim off the crust or cake of fat which has risen to the top. Add a little onion, carrot, or any vegetables you choose, chopping them fine first ; summer savory may also be added. Corn Soup. Cut the corn from the cob, and boil the cobs in water for at least an hour, then add the grains, and boil until they are thoroughly done; put one dozen ears. of corn to a gallon of water, which will be re duced to three quarts by the time the soup is done ; then pour on a pint of new milk, two well-beaten eggs, salt and pepper to your taste; continue the boiling a while longer, and stir in, to season and thicken it a little, a tablespoonful of good butter rubbed up with two tablespoonfuls of flour. Corn soup may also be made nicely with water in which a pair of grown fowls have been boiled or parboiled, instead of having plain water for the foundation. Split Pea Soup. One pint of split peas, previously soaked in cold water over night ; wash in cold water and drain, add two-thirds of a medium-sized carrot sliced ; one onioE quartered, with a clove stuck into each piece ; two ounces of fat salt pork cut into dice, Make a bouquet of the following herbs ; one sprig of parsley, thyme, celery and one bay leaf tied together ; if not obtainable use one half teaspoonful of celery salt. Put on all to gether over a brisk fire with three quarts of cold water. When it boils up, set back and allow to cook slowly about three hours or until done. Season with salt and pepper, strain and serve. Green Pea Soup. Wash a small quarter of lamb in cold water, and put it into a soup- pot with six quarts of cold water ; add to it two tablespoonfuls of salt, and set it over a moderate fire let it boil gently for two hours, then skim it clear; add a quart of shelled peas, and a teaspoonful of pepper; cover it, and let it boil for half an hour ; then having scraped the skins from a quart of small young potatoes, add them to the soup ; cover the pot and Tet it boil for half an hour longer ; work quarter of a pound of butter and a dessert spoonful of flour together, and add them to the soup ten or twelve minutes before taking it off the fire. Serve the meat on a dish with parsley sauce over, and the soup in a tureen. Turtle Soup from Beans. Soak over night one quart of black beans; next day boil them in the proper quantity of water, say a gallon, then dip the beans out of the pot and strain them through a colander. Then return the flour of the beans, thus pressed, into the pot in which they were boiled. Tie up in a thin cloth some thyme, a teaspoonful of summer savory and parsley, and let it boil in the mixture. Add a table- spoonful of cold butter, salt and pepper. Have ready four hard-boiled yolks of eggs quartered, and a few force meat balls ; add this to the soup with a sliced lemon, and HELPS FOR THE HOUSEHOLD. 229 uaif a glass of wine just before serving the soup. This approaches so near in flavor to the real turtle soup that few are able to distin guish the difference. Philadelphia Pepper Pot. Put two pounds of tripe and four calves' feet into the soup-pot and cover them with cold water ; add a red pepper, and boil closely until the calves' feet are boiled very tender ; take out the meat, skim the liquid, stir it, cut the tripe into small pieces, and put it back into the liquid ; if there is not enough liquid, add boiling water; add half a teaspoon- ful of sweet marjoram, sweet basil, and thyme, two sliced onions, sliced potatoes, salt. When the vegetables have boiled until almost tender, add a piece of butter rolled in flour, drop in some egg balls, and boil fif teen minutes more. Take up and serve hot. Macaroni Soup. To a rich beef or other soup, in which there is no seasoning other than pepper or salt, take half a pound of small pipe macaroni, boil it in clear water until it is tender, then drain it and cut it in pieces of an inch length ; boil it for fifteen minutes in the soup and serve. Turkey Soup. Take the turkey bones and boil three-quarters of an hour in water enough to cover them ; add a little summer savory and celery chopped hue. Just before serving, thicken with a little flour (browned), and season with pepper, salt, and a small piece of butter. This is a cheap but good soup, using the remains of cold turkey which might otherwise be thrown away. Tapioca Cream Soup. One quart of white stock; one pint of cream or milk; one onion; two stalks celery ; one-third of a cupful of tapioca; two cupfuls of cold water; one table- spoonful of butter ; a small piece of mace ; salt, pepper. Wash the tapioca and soak over night in cold water. Cook it and the stock together very gently foi one hour g Cut the onion and celery into small pieces, and put on to cook for twenty minutes with the milk and mace. Strain on the tapioca and stock. Season with salt and pepper, add butter, and serve. Onion Soup. One quart of milk, six large onions, yolks of four eggs, three tablespoon- fuls of butter, a large one of flour, one cup ful of cream, salt, pepper. Put the butter in a frying pan. Cut the onions into thin slices and drop in the butter. Stir until they begin to cook ; then cover tight and set back where they will simmer, but not burn, for half an hour. Now put the milk on to boil, and then add the dry flour to the onions and stir constantly for three minutes over the fire ; then turn the mixture into the milk and cook fifteen minutes. Rub the soup through a strainer, return to the fire, season with salt and pepper. Beat the yolks of the eggs well, add the cream to them and stir into the soup. Cook three minutes, stirring constantly. If you have no cream, use milk, in which case add a tablespoonful of butter at the same time. Pour over fried croutons in a soup tt 1-ro en. This is a refreshing dish when one is fatigued. Pea Soup. Put a quart of dried peas into five quarts of water ; boil for four hours and then add three or four large onions, two heads of celery, a carrot, two turnips, all cut up rather fine. Season with pepper and salt. Boil two hours longer, and if the soup becomes too thick add more water. Strain through a colander and stir in a tablespoon ful of cold butter. Serve hot, with small pieces of toasted bread placed in the bottom of the tureen. Noodles for Soup. Beat up one egg light, add a pinch of salt, and flour enough I to make a very stiff dough ; roll out very COURTSHIP. MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. dim, like thin pie crust, dredge with flour to keep from sticking. Let it remain on the bread board to dry for an hour or more ; then roll it up into a tight scroll, like a sheet of music. Begin at the end and slice it into slips as thin as straws. After all are cut, mix them lightly together, and to prevent them sticking, keep them floured a little until you are ready to drop them into your soup, which should be done shortly before dinner, for if boiled too long they will go to pieces. Force-Meat Balls for Soup. One cup ful of cooked veal or fowl meat, minced; mix with this a handful of fine bread-crumbs, the yolks of four hard-boiled eggs rubbed smooth together with a tablespoonful of milk; season with pepper and salt; add a half teaspoonful of flour, and bind all together with two beaten eggs; the hands to be well floured, and the mixture to be made into lit tle balls the size of a nutmeg ; drop into the soup about twenty minutes before serving. Egg Balls for Soup. Take the yolks of six hard-boiled eggs and half a tablespoon ful of wheat floui, rub them smooth with the yolks of two raw eggs and a teaspoonful of salt; mix all well together; make it in balls, and drop them into the boiling soup a few minutes before taking it up. Used in green turtle soup. Vermicelli Soup Swell quarter of a pound of vermicelli in a quart of warm water, then add it to a good beef, veal, lamb, or chicken soup or broth, with quarter of a pound of sweet butter; let the soup boil for fifteen minutes after it is added. Spring Vegetable Soup. Half pint green peas, two shredded lettuces, one onion, a small bunch of parsley, two ounces butter, the yolks of three and in the next to the last, mix a teaspoon- ful of baking soda ; oftentimes the inside of a fowl is very sour, especially if it is not fresh* ly killed. Soda, being cleansing, acts as a corrective, and destroys that unpleasant taste which we frequently experience in the dres sing when fowls have been killed for some time. Now, after washing, wipe the turkey dry, inside and out, with a clean cloth, rub the inside with some salt, then stuff the breast and body with "Dressing for Fowls," HELPS FOR THK HOUSEHOLD. Then sew up the turkey with a strong thread, tie the legs and wings to the body, rub it over with a little soft butter, sprinkle over some salt and pepper, dredge with a little flour ; place it in a dripping pan, pour in a cup of boiling water, and set it in the oven. Baste the turkey often, turning it around occa- .sionally so that every part will be uniformly baked. When pierced with a fork and the liquid runs out perfectly clear, the bird is done. If any part is likely to scorch, pin over it a piece of buttered white paper. A ftfteen-pound turkey requires between three and four hours to bake. Serv*. with cran berry sauce. Gravy for Turkey. When you put the turkey in to roast, put the neck, h Q .art, liver and gizzard into a stew-pan with a pint of water; boil until they become quite tender; take them out of the water, chop the heart and gizzard, mash the liver and throw away the neck; return the chopped heart, gizzard and liver to the liquor in which they were stewed ; set it to one side, and when the turk ey is done it should be added to the gravy that dripped from the turkey, having first skimmed off the fat from the surface of the dripping-pan; set it all over the fire, boil three minutes and thicken with flour. It will not need brown flour to color the gravy. The garnishes for turkey or chicken are fried oysters, thin slices of ham, slices of lemon, fried sausages, or force-meat balls, also parsley. Dressing or Stuffing for Fowls. For an tight or ten pound turkey, cut the brown crust from slices or pieces of stale bread antil you have as much as the inside of a pound loaf; put it into a suitable dish, and pour tepid water (not warm, for that makes it heavy) over it ; let it stand one minute, as it soaks very quickly. Now take up a hand ful at a time and squeeze it hard and dry with both hands, placing it, as you go along* in another dish ; this process makes it very light. When all is pressed dry, toss it all up lightly through your fingers; now add pepper, salt, about a teaspoonful also a teaspoonful of powdered summer savory, the same amount of sage, or the green herh minced fine ; add half a cup of melted butter, and a beaten egg, or not. Work thoroughly all together, and it is ready for dressing either fowls, fish or meats. A little chopped sausage in turkey dressing is considered by some an improvement, when well incorpor ated with the other ingredients. For geese and ducks the stuffing may be made the same as for turkey with the addition of a few slices of onion chopped fine. Broiled Chicken on Toast. Broil the usual way, and when thoroughly done take it up in a square tin or dripping-pan, butter it well, season with pepper and salt, and set it in the oven for a few minutes. Lay slices of moistened buttered toast on a platter; take the chicken up over it, add to the gravy in the pan part of a cupful of cream, if you have it ; if not, use milk. Thicken with a little flour and pour over the chicken. This is considered most excellent Stewed Duck. Prepare them by cutting them up the same as chicken for fricassee. Lay two or three very thin slices of salt pork upon the bottom of a stew-pan ; lay pieces of duck upon the pork. Let them stew slowly for an hour, closely covered. Then season with salt and pepper, half a tea- spoonful of powdered sage, or some green sage minced fine ; one chopped onion. Stew another half hour until the duck is tender. Stir up a large tablespoonful of brown flour in a little water and add it to the stew. Let it boil up, and serve all together in one dish, accompanied with green peas. Duck Pie. Cut all the meat from cold 238 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. roast ducks ; put the bones and stuffing into cold water ; cover them and let boil ; put the meat into a deep dish ; pour on enough of the stock made from the bones to moisten ; cover with pastry slit in the centre with a knife, and bake a light Drown. Canvas-back Duck. The epicurean taste declares that this special kind of bird re quires no spices or flavors to make it perfect, as the meat partakes of the flavor of the food that the bird feeds upon, being mostly wild celery ; and the delicious flavor is best preserved when roasted quickly with a hot fire. After dressing the duck in the usual way, by plucking, singeing, drawing, wipe it with a wet towel, truss the head under the wing ; place it in a dripping-pan, put it in the oven, basting often, and roast it half an hour. It is generally preferred a little underdone. Plc.ce it when done on a hot dish, season well with salt and pepper, pour over it the gravy it has yielded in baking and serve it immediately while hot Reed Birds. Pick and draw them very carefully, salt and dredge with flour, and roast with a quick fire ten or fifteen minutes. Serve on toast with butter and pepper. You can put in each one an oyster dipped in butter and then in bread-crumbs before roast ing. They are also very nice broiled. Roast Quail. Rinse well and steam over boiling water until tender, then dredge with flour, and smother in butter ; season with salt and pepper and roast inside the stove ; thicken the gravy ; serve with green grape jelly, and garnish with parsley. To Roast Partridges, Pheasants, Quails or Grouse. Carefully cut out all the shot, wash thoroughly but quickly, using soda in the water ; rinse again, and dry with a clean cloth. Stuff them and sew them up. Skewer the legs and wings to the body, larder the breast with very thin slices of fat salt pork, place them in the oven, and baste with butter and water before taking up, having seasoned them with salt and pepper ; or you can leave out the pork and use only butter, or cook them without stuffing. Make a gravy of the drippings thickened with browned flour. These are all very fine broiled, first split ting down the back, placing on the gridiron the inside down, cover with a baking tin, and broil slowly at first Serve with cream gravy. Broiled Venison Steak. Venison steaks should be broiled over a clear fire, turning often. It requires more cooking than beef When sufficiently done, season with salt and pepper, pour over two tablespoonfuls of cur rant jelly, melted with a piece of butter, Serve hot on hot r lates. Delicious steak., corresponding to the shape of mutton chops, are cut from the loin. To Keep Meat from Flies. Put in sack^ with enough straw around it so the flies can not reach through. Three-fourths of a yard of yard-wide muslin is the right size for the sack. Put a little straw in the bottom, therj put in the ham and lay straw in all arounc. it ; tie it tightly, and hang it in a cool, dry place. Be sure the straw is all around the meat, so the flies cannot reach through to deposit the eggs. (The sacking must be done early in the season before the fly appears.) Muslin lets the air in and is much better than paper. Thin muslin is as good as thick, and will last for years if washed and laid away when emptied. Roast Beef. One very essential point in roasting beef is to have the oven well heated when the beef is first put in ; this causes the pores to close up quickly, and prevents the escape of the juices. Take a rib piece or loin roast of seven 01 HELPS FOR THE HOUSEHOLD. 239 eight pounds. Wipe it thoroughly all over with a clean wet towel. Lay it in a drip ping-pan, and baste it well with butter or suet fat. Set it in the oven. Baste it fre quently with its own drippings, which will make it brown and tender. When partly done, season with salt and pepper, as it hardens any meat to salt it when raw, and draws out its juices, then dredge with sifted flour to give it a frothy appearance. It will take a roast of this size about two hours' time to be properly done, leaving the inside a little rare or red half an hour less would make the inside quite rare. Remove the beef to a heated dish, set where it will keep hot ; then skim the drippings from all fat, add a tablespoonful of sifted flour, a little pepper and a teacupful of boiling water. Boil up once and serve hot in a gravy boat. Beefsteak. Take a smooth, thick-bot tomed frying-pan, scald it out with hot water, and wipe it dry ; set it on the stove or range, and when very hot, rub it over the bottom with a rag dipped in butter ; then place your steak or chops in it, turn often until cooked through, take ap on a warm platter, and season both sides with salt, pepper and but ter. Serve hot. Many prefer this manner . ; cooking steak rather than broiling or frying in a quantity of grease. Beefsteak and Onions. Prepare the steak in the usual way. Have ready in a frying pan a dozen onions cut in slices and fried brown in a little beef drippings or butter. Dish your steak, and lay the onions thickly over the top. Cover and let stand five minutes, then send to the table hot. Beefsteak and Oysters. Broil the steak the usual way. Put one quart of oysters with very little of the liquor into a stew-pan upon the fire ; when it comes to a boil, take fcff the scum that may rise, stir in three ounces of butter mixed wich a tablespoonfu! of sifted flour, let it boil one minute until it thickens, pour it over the steak. Serve hot Spiced Beef. For a round of beef, weigh" ing twenty or twenty-four pounds, take one quarter of a pound of saltpetre, one quartet of a pound of coarse brown sugar, two pounds of salt, one ounce of cloves, one ounce of allspice, and half an ounce of mace; pulver ize these materials, mix them well together, and with them rub the beef thoroughly on every part; let the beef lie for eight or ten days in the pickle thus made, turning and rubbing it every day; then tie it around with a broad tape, to keep it in shape ; make a coarse paste of flour and water, lay a little suet finely chopped over and undar the beef, inclose the beef entirely in the paste, and bake it six hours. When you take the beef from the oven, remove the paste, but do not remove the tape until yon, are ready to send it to the table. If you wish to eat the beef cold, keep it well covered that it may retain its moisture. This i? excellent Roast Beef Pie with Potato Crust. When you have a _vld roast of beef, cut oft as much as will hilf fill a baking-dish suited to the size of your family; put this sliced beef into a stew-pan with any gravy that you may have abo saved, a lump of butter, a bit of sliced onion, and a seasoning of pepper and salt, with enough water to make plenty of gravy; thicken it, too, by dredg ing in a tablespoonful of flour ; cover it up on the fire, where it may stew gently, but not be in danger of burning. Meanwhile there must be boiled a sufficient quantity of potatoes to fill up your baking-dish, after the stewed meat has been transferred to it. The potatoes must be boiled done, mashed smooth, and beaten up with milk and butter, as if they were to be served alone, and placed in a thick layer on top of the meat Brush it COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE, over with egg, place the dish in an oven, and let it remain there long enough to be brown. There should be a goodly quantity of gravy left with the beef, that the dish be Dt dry and tasteless. Serve with it tomato sauce, Worcestershire sauce or any other 'land that you prefer. A good, plain dish. Yorkshire Pudding. This is a very nice iccompaniment to a roast of beef; the in gredients are, one pint of milk, four eggs, white and yolks beaten separately, one tea- spoonful of salt, and two teaspoonfuls of baking powder sifted through two cups of flour. It should be mixed very smooth, about the consistency of cream. Regulate your time when you put in your roast, so that it will be done half an hour or forty minutes before dishing up. Take it from the oven, set it where it will keep hot In the meantime have this pudding prepared. Take two common biscuit tins, dip some of clie drippings from the dripping-pan into these tins, pour half of the pudding into each, set them into the hot oven, and keep them in until the dinner is dished up; take thestf puddings out at the last moment and send to the table hot This I consider much bette/ than the old way of baking the pud ding under the meat French Stew. Grease the bottom of an iron pot, and place in it three or four pounds of beef; be very careful that it does not burn, and turn it until nicely browned. Set a muffin ring under the beef to prevent its sticking. Add a few sliced carrots, one or two slioed onions, and a cupful of hot water; keep tovered, and stew slowly until the vegetaUes are done. Add pepper and salt. If you \fish more gravy, add hot water, and thicken with flour. Serve on a dish with the vegetables. Meat and Potato Croquettes. Put in a stew-pan an ounce of butter and a slice of onion minced fine ; when this simmer?, add a level tablespoonful of sifted flour ; sf.ii the mixture until it becomes smooth and frothy: then add half of a cupful of milk, some season ing of salt and pepper; let all boil, stirring it all the while. Now add a cupful of cold meat chopped fine and a cupful of cold or hof mashed potato. Mix all thoroughly and spread on a plate to cool. When it is cool enough, shape it with your hands into balls or rolls. Dip them in beaten egg and roll in cracker or bread-crumbs. Drop them into hot lard and fry about two minutes a delicate brown ; take them out with a skimmer and drain them on a piece of brown paper. Serve immediately while hot These arc very nice. Cold rice or hominy may be used in place of the potato ; or a cupful of cold fish minced fine in place of the meat Fricasseed Tripe. Cut a pound of tripe in narrow strips, put a small cup of water 01 milk to it, add a bit of butter the size of an egg, dredge in a large teaspoonful of flour T or work it with the butter ; season with pep per and salt, let it simmer gently for half an hour, serve hot. A bunch of parsley cut small and put with it is an improvement Some put in oysters five minutes before dish ing up. Broiled Veal Cutlets. (Fine.) Two or three pounds of veal cutlets, egg and bread crumbs, two tablespoonfuls of minced savorv herbs, salt and pepper to taste, a little grated nutmeg. Cut the cutlets about three-quarters of an inch in thickness, flatten them, and brush them over with the yolk of an egg ; dip them into bread-crumbs and minced herbs, season with pepper and salt, and fold each cutlet in a piece of white letter paper well buttered ; twist the ends, and broil over a clear fire ; when done remove the paper. HELPS FOR THE HOUSEHOLD. Cooked this way they will retain all the flavor. Leg of Mutton a la Venison. Remove all the rough fat from the mutton and lay it in a deep earthen dish ; rub into it thorough ly the following : One tablespoonful of salt, one each of celery-salt, brown sugar, black pepper, English mustard, allsp^j-?, and some sweet herbs, all powdered and mixed ; after which pour over it slowly a teacup of good vinegar, cover tightly, and set in a cool place four or five days, turning it and basting often with the liquid each day. To cook, put in a kettle a quart of boiling water, place over it an inverted shallow pan, and on it lay the meat just as removed from the pickle ; cover the kettle tightly and stew four hours. Do not let the water touch the meat Acli ? a cup of hot water to the pickle remaining and baste with it When done, thicken the liquid with flour and strain through a fine sieve, to serve with the meat; also a relish of currant jelly, the same as lor venison. This is a fine dish when the directions are faithfully followed. Lamb Stew. Cut up the lamb into small pieces (after removing all the fat), say about two inches square. Wash it well and put it over the fire, with just enough cold water to cover it well, and let it heat gradually. It should stew gently until it is partly done ; then add a few thin slices of salt pork, one or two onions sliced up fine, some pepper and salt if needed, and two or three raw potatoes cut up into inch pieces. Cover it closely and stew until the meat is tender. Drop in a few made dumplings, made like hort biscuit, cut out very small. Cook fif teen minutes longer. Thicken the gravy with a little flour moistened with milk. Serve. Mutton Pudding. Line a two-quart pud ding-basin with some beef suet paste ; fill the 16 lining with thick mutton cutlets, slightly trimmed, or, if preferred, with steaks cut from the leg; season with pepper and salt, some parsley, a little thyme and two slices of onion chopped fine, and between each layer of meat put some slices of potatoes. When the pudding is filled, wet the edges of the paste around the top of the basin, and covet with a piece of paste rolled out the size of the basin. Fasten down the edge by bearing all around with the thumb ; and then with the thumb and forefinger twist the edges ol the paste over and over so as to give it z corded appearance. This pudding can be set in a steamer and steamed, or boiled, The time required for cooking is about three- hours. -When done, turn it out carefully on a platter and serve with a rich gravy under it This is a very good recipe for cooking small birds. Beef Hash. Chop cold roast beef, or pieces of beefsteak ; fry half an onion in a piece of butter ; when the onion is brown, add the chopped beef; season with a little salt and pepper; moisten with the beef gravy, if you have any, if not, with sufficient water and a little butter; cook long enough to be hot, but 110 longer, as much cooking toughens the meat An excellent breakfast dish. Smothered Beefsteak. Take thin slices of steak from the upper part of the round or one large thin steak. Lay the meat out smoothly and wipe it dry. Prepare a dress ing, using a cupful of fine bread-crumbs,, half a teaspoonful of salt, some pepper, a table spoonful of butter, half a teaspoonful of sage, the same of powdered summer savory, and enough milk to moisten it all into a stiff mixture. Spread it over the meat, roll it up carefully, and tie with a string, securing the ends well. Now fry a few thin slices of salt 242 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. pork in tlie bottom of a kettle or sauce-pan, and into the fat that has fried out of this pork, place this roll or rolls of beef, and brown it on all sides, turning it until a rich color all over, then add half a pint of water, and stew until tender. If the flavor of onion Is liked, a slice may be chopped fine and added to the dressing. When cooked suffi ciently, take out the meat, thicken the gravy, and turn over it. To be carved cut ting crosswise, in slices, through beef and stuffing. Roast Pig. Take a young pig about six weeks old, wash it thoroughly inside and outside, and in another water put a teaspoon- ful of baking soda, and rinse out the inside again ; wipe it dry with a fresh towel, salt the inside and stuff it with the prepared dress ing ; make it full and plump, giving it its original size and shape. Sew it up, place it in a kneeling posture in the dripping-pan, tying the legs in proper position. Pour a little hot salted water into the dripping pan, baste with butter and water a few times as the pig warms ; afterwards with gravy from the dripping-pan. When it begins to smoke all over rub it often with a rag dipped in melted butter. This will keep the skin from cracking and it still will be crisp. It will take from two to three hours to roast. Make the gravy by skimming off most of the grease ; stir into that remaining in the pan a good tablespoonful of flour, turn in water to make it the right consistency, season with pepper and let all boil up once. Strain, and if you like wine in it, add half a glass ; turn it into a gravy boat. Place the pig upon a large, hot platter, surrounded with parsley or celery tops ; place a green wreath around the neck, and a sprig of celery in its mouth. In carving, cut off its head first ; split down the back, take off its hams and shoulders, and separate the ribs. Fresh Pork Pot-pie. Boil a spare-rib, after removing all the fat and cracking the bones, until tender ; remove the scum as it rises, and when tender season with salt and pepper ; half an hour before time for serving the dinner thicken the gravy with a little flour. Have ready another kettle, into which remove all the bones and most of the gravy, leaving only sufficient to cover the pot half an inch above the rim that rests on the stove ; put in the crust, cover tight, and boil steadily forty-five minutes. To prepare the crust, work into a light dough a small bit of butter, roll it out thin, cut it in small square cakes, and lay them on the moulding-board until very light No steam should possibly escape while the crust is cooking, and by no means allow the pot to cease boiling, and thus injure the flavor. Boston Pork and Beans. Pick over care* fully a quart of small, white beans, let them soak over night in cold water ; in the morn ing wash and drain in another water. Put on to boil in plenty of cold water with a piece of soda the size of a bean ; let them come to a boil, then drain again, cover with water once more, and boil them fifteen minutes, or until the skin of the beans will crack when taken out and blown upon Drain the beans again, put them into an earthen pot, adding a tablespoonful of salt ; cover with hot water, place in the centre of a pound of salt pork, first scalding it with hot water, and scoring the rind across the top, a quarter of an inch apart to indicate where the slices are to be cut Place the pot in the oven, and bake six hours or longer. Keep the oven a moderate heat ; add hot water from the tea-kettle as needed, on ac count of evaporation, to keep the beans moist. When the meat becomes crisp atid looks cooked, remove it, as too long baking the pork destroys its solidity. HELPS FOR THE HOUSEHOLD. 243 Head Cheese. Boil the forehead, ears and feet, and nice scraps trimmed from the hams of a fresh pig, until the meat will almost drop from the bones. Then separate the meat from the bones, put it in a large chop- ping-bowl, and season with pepper, salt, sage and summer savory. Chop it rather coarse ly ; put it back in the same kettle it was boil- .. ed in, with just enough of the liquor in which it was boiled to prevent its burning ; warm it through thoroughly, mixing it well together. Now pour it into a strong muslin bag, press the bag between two flat surfaces, with a heavy weight on top ; when cold and solid it can be cut in slices. To Cure English Bacon. This process is called the " dry cure," and is considered far preferable to the New England or Yankee style of putting prepared brine or pickle over the meat. First the hog should not be too large or too fat, weighing not over two hun dred pounds ; then after it is dressed and cooled cut it up into proper pieces ; allow to every hundred pounds a mixture of four quarts of common salt, one quarter of a pound of saltpetre and four pounds of sugar. Rub this preparation thoroughly over and into each piece, then place them into a tight tub or suitable cask ; there will a brine form of itself, from the juices of the meat, enough at least to baste it with, which should be done two or three times a week ; turning each piece every time. In smoking this bacon, the sweetest flavor is derived from black birch chips, but if these are not to be had, the next best wood is hickory ; the smoking with corn-cobs imparts a rank flavor to this bacon, which is very distasteful to English people visiting this country. It requires three weeks or a month to smoke this bacon properly. Saratoga Chips. Peel good-sized pota toes, and slice them as evenly as possible. Drop them into ice-water ; have a kettle of very hot lard, as for cakes ; put a few at a time into a towel and shake, to dry the mois ture out of them, and then drop them into the boiling lard. Stir them occasionally, and when of a light brown take them out with a skimmer, and they will be crisp and not greasy. Sprinkle salt over them while hot. Potato Croquettes. Take two cups of cold mashed potato, season with a pinch of salt, pepper and a tablespoonful of butter. Beat up the whites of two eggs, and work all to gether thoroughly ; make it into small balls slightly flattened, dip them in the beaten yolks of the eggs, then roll either in flour or cracker-crumbs ; fry the same as fish-balls This is Delmonico's receipt. Potatoes a la Delmonico. Cut the pota' toes with a vegetable cutter into small balls about the size of a marble ; put them into a stew-pan with plenty of butter, and a good sprinkling of salt; keep the sauce-pan covered and shake occasionally until they are quite done which will be in about an hour. Fried Potatoes with Eggs. Slice cold boiled potatoes, and fry in good butter until brown ; beat up one or two eggs, and stii into them just as you dish them for the table do not leave them a moment on the fire af ter the eggs are in, for if they harden they are not half so nice ; one egg is enough for three or four persons, unless they are very fond of potatoes ; if they are, have plenty, and put in two. Baked Sweet Potatoes. Wash and scrape them, split them lengthwise. Steam or boil them until nearly done. Drain, and put them in a baking-dish, placing over them lumps of butter, pepper and salc- ; sprinkle thickly with sugar, and bak~ in the oven to a nice brow* COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. Hubbard squash is nice cooked in the same manner. Onions Boiled. The white silver-skins are the best species. To boil them peel off the outside, cut off the ends, put them into cold water and into a stew-pan, and let them scald two minutes; then tuin off that water, pour on cold water, salted a little, and boil slowly till tender, which will be in thirty or forty minutes, according to their size ; when lone drain them quite dry, pour a little tnelted butter over them, sprinkle them with pepper and salt and serve hot. An excellent way to peel onions so as not to affect the eyes is to take a pan full of ".vater, and hold and peel them under water. Onions Stewed. Cook the same as boiled Onions, and when quite done turn off all the water ; add a teacupful of milk, a piece of butter the size of an egg, pepper and salt to taste, a tablespoonful of flour stirred to a cream ; let all boil up once and serv* in a vegetable dish, hot. Onions Baked. Use the large Spanish onion, as best for this purpose ; wash them clean, but do not peel, and put into a sauce pan, with slightly salted w ater ; boil an hour, replacing the water with more boiling hot as it evaporates ; turn off the water, and lay the onions on a cloth to dry them well; roll each one in a piece of buttered tissue paper, twisting it at the top to keep it on, and bake in a slow oven about an hour, or until tender all through ; peel them ; place in a deep dish, and brown slightly, basting well with butter for fifteen minutes ; season with salt and pepper, and pour some melted butter over them. Fried Onions. Peel, slice, and fry them brown in equal quantities of butter and lard or nice drippings; cover until partly soft, remove the cover and brown them ; salt and pepper. Cauliflower. When cleaned and washed, drop them into boiling water, into which ycu have put salt and a teaspoonful of flour, or a slice of bread ; boil till tender ; take off, drain ; and dish them ; serve with a sauce spread over, and made with melted butter, salt, pepper, grated nutmeg, chopped parsley and vinegar. Another way is to make a white sauce (see Sauces), and when the cauliflowers are dished as above, turn the white sauce over, and serve warm. They may also be served in the same way with a milk, cream, or tomato sauce, or with brown butter. It is "*. very good plan to loosen the leaves of a ii^ad of cauliflower, and let lie, the top downward in a pan of cold salt water, to re move any insects that might be hidden be tween them. Fried Cauliflower. Boil the cauliflowers till about half done. Mix two tablespoonfuls of flour with, two yolks of eggs, then add water enough to make a rather thin paste ; add salt to taste ; the two whites are beaten till stiff, and then mixed with the yolks, flour and water. Dip each branch of the cauliflowers into the mixture, and fry them in hot fat. When done, take them off with a skimmer, turn into a colander, dust salt all over, and serve warm. Asparagus, celery, egg-plant, oyster-plant are all fine when fried in this manner. Steamed Cabbage. Take a sound, solid cabbage, and with a large sharp knife shave it very finely. Put it in a sauce-pan, pour in half a teacupful of water or just enough tc keep it from burning ; cover it very tightly, so as to confine the steam ; watch it closely, add a little water now and then, until it be gins to be tender ; then put into it a large tablespoonful of butter ; salt and pepper to taste, dish it hot If you prefer to give it a HELPS FOR THE HOUSEHOLD. 245 tart taste, just before taking from trie fire add a third of a cup of good vinegar. Ladies' Cabbage Boil a firm white cab bage fifteen minutes, changing the water then for more from the boiling tea-kettle. When tender, drain and set aside until per- pectly cold. Chop fine and add two beaten eggs, a tablespoonful of butter, pepper, salt, three tablespoonfuls of rich milk or cream. Stir all well together, and bake in a buttered pudding-dish until brown. Serve very hot. This dish resembles cauliflower and is very digestible and palatable. Sour-crout. Barrels having held wine or vinegar are used to prepare sour-crout in. It is better, however, to have a special barrel for the purpose. Strasburg, as well as all Alsace, has a well-acquired fame for prepar ing the cabbages. They slice very white and firm cabbages in fine shreds with a machine made for the purpose. At the bot tom of a small barrel they place a layer of coarse salt, and alternately layers of cabbage and salt, being careful to have one of salt on the top. As each layer of cabbage is added, it must be pressed down by a large and heavy pestle, and fresh layers are added as soon as the juice floats on the surface. The cabbage must be seasoned with a few grains of coriander, juniper berries, etc. When the barrel is full it must be put in a dry cellar, covered with a cloth, under a plank, and on this heavy weights are placed. At the end of a few days it will begin to ferment, dur ing which time the pickle must be drawn off and replaced by fresh, until the liquor be comes clear. This should be done every da}'. Renew the cloth and wash the cover, put the weights back, and let stand for a month. By that time the sour-crout will be ready for use. Care must be taken to let the least possible air enter the sour-crout, and to have the cover perfectly clean. Each time the barrel has to be opened it must be properly closed again. These precautions must not oe neglected. This is often fried in the same manner as fried cabbage, excepting it is first boiled un til soft in just water enough to cook it, then fry and add vinegar. Scalloped Tomatoes. Butter the sides and bottom of a pudding-dish. Put a layer of bread-crumbs in the bottom ; on them put a layer of sliced tomatoes ; sprinkle with salt, pepper and some bits of butter, and a very little white sugar. Then repeat with another layer of crumbs, another of tomato, and seasoning until full, having the top layer of slices of tomato, with bits of butter on each. Bake covered until well cooked through ; remove the cover and brown quickly. Stuffed Egg-plant. Cut the egg-plant in two ; scrape out all the inside and put it in a sauce-pan with a little minced ham ; cove: with water and boil until soft ; drain off the water; add two tablespoonfuls of grated crumbs, a tablespoonful of butter, half a minced onion, salt and pepper ; stuff each half of the hull with the mixture; add a small lump of butter to each, and bake fifteen minutes. Minced veal or chicken in the place of ham, is equally as good, and many prefer it String Beans. Break off the end that grew to the vine, drawing off at the same time the string upon the edge ; repeat the same process from the other end ; cut them with a sharp knife into pieces half an inch long, and boil them in just enough water to cover them. They usually require one hour's boiling ; but this depends upon their age and freshness. After they have boiled until tender, and the water boiled nearly out, add pepper and salt, a tablespoonful of butter, and a half a cup of cream. COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. Many prefer to drain them before adding the seasoning ; in that case they lose the real goodness of the vegetable, which is apt to be seasoned only in spots. Beets Boiled. Select small-sized, smooth roots. They should be carefully washed, but not cut before boiling, as the juice will escape and the sweetness of the vegetable be impaired, leaving it white and hard. Put them into boiling water, and boil them until tender; which requires often from one to two hours. Do not probe them, but press them with the finger to ascertain if they are sufficiently done. When satisfied of this, take them up, and put them into a pan of cold water, and slip off the outside. Cut them into thin slices, and while hot season with butter, salt, a little pepper and very sharp vinegar. Baked Beets. Beets retain their sugary, delicate flavor to perfection if they are baked instead of boiled. Turn them frequently while in the oven, using a knife, as the fork allows the juice to run out When done remove the skin, and serve, with butter, salt and pepper on the slices. Succotash. Take a pint of fresh shelled Lima beans, or any large fresh beans, put them in a pot with cold water, rather more than will cover them. Scrape the kernels from twelve ears of young sweet corn ; put the cobs in with the beans, boiling from half to three-quarters of an hour. Now take out the cobs and put in the scraped corn ; boil again fifteen minutes, then season with salt and pepper to taste, a piece of butter the size of an egg, and half a cup of cream. Serve hot. Green Corn. Green corn left over from dinner makes a nice breakfast dish, prepared as follows : Cut the corn from the ccb v and put into a bowl with a cup of milk to every cup -of corn, a half cup of floiir t one egg, a pinch of salt, and a little butter ; mix well into a thick batter, and fry in small cakes in very hot butter. Serve with plenty of buttei and powdered sugar. Corn Pudding. This is a Virginia disho Scrape the substance out of twelve ears of tender, green, uncooked corn (it is better scraped than grated, as you do not get those husky particles which you cannot avoid with a grater) ; add yolks and whites, beaten sepa rately, of four eggs, a teaspoonful of sugar, the same of flour mixed in a tablespoonful of butter, a small quantity of salt and pepper, and one pint of milk. Bake about half or three-quarters of an hour. Asparagus. Scrape the stems of the asparagus lightly, but very clean; throw them into cold water, and when they are all scraped and very clean, tie them in bunches of equal size ; cut the large ends evenly, that the stems may be all of the same length, and put the asparagus into plenty of boiling water, well salted. While it is boiling, cut several slices of bread half an inch thick, pare off the crust, and toast It a delicate brown on both sides. When the stalks of asparagus are tender (it will usually cook in twenty to forty minutes), lift it out directly, or it will lose both its color and flavor, and will also be liable to break ; dip the toast quickly into the liquor in which it was boiled, and dish the vegetable upon it, the heads all lying one way. Pour over white sauce, or melted butter. Asparagus With Eggs. Boil a bunch of asparagus twenty minutes ; cut off the tender tops and lay them in a deep pie plate, butter- iug, salting and peppering well. Beat up four eggs, the yolks and whites separately, to a stiff froth ; add two tablespoonfuls of milk or cream, a tablespoonful of warm but ter, pepper and salt to taste. Pour evenly over the asparagus mixture. Bake eight HELPS FOR THE HOUSEHOLD, the eggs are set Very 247 minutes or until good. Green Peas. Shell the peas and wash in cold water. Put in boiling water just enough to cover them well, and keep them from burning ; boil from twenty minutes to half an hour, when the liquor should be nearly boiled out ; season with pepper and salt, and a good allowance of butter ; serve very hot. This is a very much better way than cook ing in a larger quantity of water, and drain ing off the liquor, as that diminishes the sweetness, and much of the fine flavor of the peas is lost. The salt should never be put in the peas before they are tender, unless very young, as it tends to harden them. Stewed Green Peas. Into a sauce-pan of boiling water put two or three pints of young green peas, and when nearly done and tender, drain in a colander dry ; then melt two ounces of butter in two of flour ; stir well, and boil five minutes longer; should the pods be quite clean and fresh, boil them first in the water, remove, and put in the peas. The Germans prepare a very palatable dish of sweet young pods alone, by simply stirring in a little butter with some savory herbs. Boiled Winter Squash. This is much finer than the summer squash. It is fit to eat in August, and, in a dry warm place, can be kept well all winter. The color is a very bright yellow. Pare it, take out the seeds, cut it in pieces, and stew it slowly until quite soft, in a very little water. Afterwards drain, squeeze, and press it well ; then mash it with a very little butter, pepper and salt. They will boil in from twenty to forty minutes. Baked Winter Squash. Cut open the squash, take out the seeds, and without paring cut it up into large pieces ; put the pieces on tins or a dripping-pan, place in a moderately hot oven, and bake about an hour. When done, peel and mash likt mashed potatoes, or serve the pieces hot on a dish, to be eaten warm with butter like sweet potatoes. It retains its sweetness much better baked this way than when boiled. Vegetable Hash. Chop rather coarsely the remains of vegetables left from a boiled dinner, such as cabbage, parsnips, potatoeSr etc., sprinkle over them a little pepper; place in a saucepan or frying-pan over the fire ; put in a piece of butter the size of a hickory nut ; when it begins to melt, tip the dish so as to oil the bottom, and around the sides ; then put in the chopped vegetables ; pour in a spoonful or two of hot water from the tea-kettle ; cover quickly so as to keep in the steam. When heated thoroughly take off the cover and stir occasionally until well cooked. Serve hot. Persons fond of vegetables will relish this dish very much. Baked Mushrooms. Prepare them the same as for stewing. Place them in a baking-pan, in a moderate oven. Season with salt, pepper, lemon juice, and chopped parsley. Cook in the oven fifteen minutes, baste with butter. Arrange on a dish and pour the gravy over them. Serve with sauce made by beating a cup of cream, two ounces of butter, a tablespoonful of chopped parsley, a little cayenne pepper, salt, a tablespoonful of white sauce, and two tablespoonfuls of lemon juice. Put in a sauce-pan and set on the fire. Stir until thick, but do not let boil. Mushrooms are very nice placed on slices of well-buttered toast when set into the oven to bake. They cook in about fifteen minutes. Macaroni a la Creme. Boil one-quartet of a pound of macaroni in plenty of hot water, salted, until tender; put half a pint of milk in a double boiler, and when it boils stir into it a mixture of two tablespoonfuls of butter and one of flour. Add two table- 248 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. spoonfuls of cream, a little white and cay enne pepper; salt to taste, and from one- quarter to one-half a pound of grated cheese according to taste. Drain and dish the macaroni; pour the boiling sauce over ij, and serve immediately. Unrivaled Yeast. On one morning boil two ounces of the best hops in four quarts of water half an hour ; strain it, and let the liquor cool to the consistency of new milk ; then put it in an earthen bowl, and add half a cupful of salt, and half a cupful of brown sugar ; beat up one quart of flour with some of the liquor; then mix all well together, and let it stand till the third day after ; then add six medium-sized potatoes, boiled and mashed through a colander; let it stand a day, then strain and bottle, and it is fit for use. It must be stirred frequently while it is making, and kept near a fire. One ad vantage of this yeast is its spontaneous fer mentation, requiring the help of no old yeast; if care be taken to let it ferment well in the bowl, it may immediately be corked tightly. Be careful to keep it in a cool place. Before using it shake the bottle up well. It will keep in a cool place two months, and is best the latter part of the time. Use about the same quantity as of other yeast. Graham Bread. One teacupful of wliea c flour, one-half teacupful of Porto Rico mo lasses, one-half cupful of good yeast, one tea- spoonful of salt, one pint of warm water ; add sufficient Graham flour to make the dough as stiff as can be stirred with a strong spoon ; this is to be mixed at night ; in the morn- mg, add one teaspoonful of soda, dissolved in a little water; mix well, and pour into two medium-sized pans ; they will be about half full ; let it stand in a warm place until it rises to the top of the pans, then bake one hour in a pretty hot oven. This should be covered about twenvy minutes when first put into the oven with a thick brown paper, or an old tin cover ; it prevents the tipper crust hardening before the loaf is well-risen. If these directions are correctly followed the bread will not be heavy or sodden, as it has been tried for years and never failed. Stewed Carrots. Wash and scrape the carrots, and divide them into strips; put them into a stew-pan with water enough to cover them ; add a spoonful of salt, and let- them boil slowly until tender; then drain and replace them in the pan, with two table- spoonfuls of butter rolled in flour, shake over a little pepper and salt, then add enough cream or milk to moisten thr whole : let it come to a boil and serve hot. Boston Brown Bread. One pint of rye flour, one quart of corn-meal, one teacupful of Graham flour, all fresh ; half a teacupful of molasses or brown sugar, a teaspoonful of salt, and two-thirds of a teacupful of home made yeast. Mix into as stiff a dough as can be stirred with a spoon, using warm water for wetting. Let it rise several hours, or over night ; in the morning, or when light, add a teaspoonful of soda dissolved in a spoonful of warm water; beat it well and turn it into well-greased, deep, bread-pans, and let it rise again. Bake in a moderate oven from three to four hours. Boston Brown Bread. (Unfennented) One cupful of rye flour, two cupfuls of corn- meal, one cupful of white flour, half a tea- cupful of molasses or sugar, a teaspoonful of salt. Stir all together thoroughly, and wet up with sour milk ; then add a level tea- spoonful of soda dissolved in a tablespoon- ful of water. The same can be made of sweet milk, by substituting baking-powder for soda. The batter to be stirred thick with a spoon, and turned into well-greased pans. HELPS FOR THE HOUSEHOLD. 249 Virginia Brown Bread. One pint of corn-meal, pour over enough boiling water to thoroughly scald it ; when cool, add one pint of light, white bread sponge, mix well together, add one cupful of molasses, and Graham flour enough to mold; this will make two loaves ; when light bake in a moderate oven one and a half hours. Rye Bread. To a 4. '.art of warm water stir as much wheat flour as will make a smooth batter; stir into it half a gill of home-made yeast, and set it in a warm place to rise ; this is called setting a sponge ; let it be mixed in some vessel which will contain twice the quantity ; in the morning, put three pounds and a half of rye flour into a bowl or tray, make a hollow in the centre, pour in the sponge, add a dessertspoonful of salt, and half a small teaspoonful of soda, dissolved in a little water ; make the whole Into a smooth dough, with as much warm water as may be necessary ; knead it well, cover it, and let it set in a warm place for three hours ; then knead it again, and make it into two or three loaves ; bake in a quick oven one hour, if made in two loaves, or less if the loaves are smaller. Rye and Corn Bread. One quart of rye meal or rye flour, two quarts of Indian meal, Scalded (by placing in a pan and pouring over it just enough boiling water to merely wet it, but not enough to make it into a batter, stirring constantly with a spoon), one-half cup of molasses, two teaspoonfuls salt, one teacup yeast ; make it as stiff as can be stirred with a spoon, mixing with warm water, and let rise all night. In the morn ing add a level teaspoonful of soda dissolved in a little water ; then put it in a large pan, smooth the top with the hand dipped in cold water ; let it stand a short time, and bake five or six hours. If put in the oven late in the day, let it remain all night Graham may be used instead of rye, and baked as above. Both are considered diges tible and very healthful. This is similar to the " Rye and Injun " of our grandmothers ' day, but that was placed in a kettle, allowed to rise, then placed in a covered iron pan upon the hearth before the fire, with coals heaped upon the lid, to bake all night. Boston Corn Bread. One cup of sweet milk, two of sour milk, two-thirds of a cup of molasses, one of wheat flour, four of corn- meal and one teaspoonful of soda ; steam for three hours, and brown a few minutes in the oven. The same made of sweet milk and baking-powder is equally as good. Indian Loaf Cake. Mix a teacupful of powdered white sugar with a quart of rich milk, and cut up in the milk two ounces of butter, adding a saltspoonful of salt. Put this mixture into a covered pan or skillet, and set it on the fire till it is scalding hot Then take it off, and scald with it as much yellow Indian meal (previously sifted) as will make it of the consistence of thick boiled mush. Beat the whole very hard for a quarter of an hour, and then set it away to cool. While it is cooling, beat three eggs very light, and stir them gradually into the mix ture when it is about as warm as new milk. Add a teacupful of good strong yeast, and beat the whole another quarter of an hour, for much of the goodness of this cake depends on its being long and well-beaten. Then have ready a tin mold or earthen pan with a pipe in the centre (to diffuse the heat through the middle of the cake). The pan must be very well-buttered, as Indian meal is apt to stick. Put in the mixture, cover it, and set it in a warm place to rise. It should be light in about four hours. Then bake it two hours in a moderate oven. When 250 COURTSttTP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. done, turn it out with the broad surface downwards, send it to table hot and whole. Cut it into slices and eat it with butter. This will be found an excellent cake. If wanted for breakfast, mix it, and set it to rise the night before. If properly made, standing all night will not injure it. Like all Indian cakes (of which this is one of the best), it should be eaten warm. Johnnie Cake. Sift one quart of Indian meal into a pan ; make a hole in the middle and pour in a pint of warm water, adding one teaspoonful of salt; with a spoon mix the meal and water gradually into a soft dough ; stir it very briskly for a quarter of an hour or more, till it becomes light and spongy ; then spread the dough smooth and evenly on a straight, flat board (a piece of the head of a flour barrel will serve for this purpose) ; place the board nearly upright be fore an open fire, and put an iron against the back to support it ; bake it well ; when done, cut it in squares ; send it hot to table, split and buttered. New England Corn Cake. One quart of milk, one pint of corn-meal, one tea-cup ful of wheat flour, a teaspoonful of salt, two tablespoonfuls of melted butter. Scald the milk, and gradually pour it on the meal ; when cool, add the butter and salt, also half a cup of yeast. Do this at night ; in the morning beat thoroughly and add two well-beaten eggs, and half a teaspoonful of soda, dissolved in a spoonful of water. Pour the mixture into buttered deep earthen plates, let it stand fifteen minutes to rise again, then bake from twenty to thirty minutes. Parker House Rolls. One pint of milk, boiled and cooled ; a piece of butter the size of an egg ; one half cupful of fresh yeast ; one tablespoonful of sugar, one pinch of salt, and two quarts of sifted flour. Melt the butter in the warm milk, then add the sugar, salt and flour, and let it rise over night. Mix rather soft In the morn ing, add to this half of a teaspoonful of soda dissolved in a spoonful of water. Mix iu enough flour to make the same stiffness as any biscuit dough ; roll out not more than a quarter of an inch thick. Cut with a large round cutter; spread soft butter over the tops and fold one-half over the other by doubling it. Place them apart a little so that there will be room to rise. Cover, and place them near the fire for fifteen or twenty minutes before baking. Bake in rather a quick oven. Sally Lunn. Warm one-half cupful of butter in a pint of milk ; add a teaspoonful of salt, a tablespoonful of sugar, and seven cupfuls of sifted flour ; beat thoroughly, anc when the mixture is blood warm, add four beaten eggs, and last of all, half a cup of good lively yeast. Beat hard until the bat ter breaks in blisters. Set it to rise over night. In the morning, dissolve half a tea- spoonful of soda, stir it into the batter and turn it into a well-buttered, shallow dish to rise again about fifteen or twenty minutes. Bake about fifteen or twenty minutes. The cake should be torn apart, not cut; cutting with a knife makes warm bread heavy. Bake a light brown. This cake is frequently seen on Southern tables, London Hot-Cross Buns. Three cups of milk, one cup of yeast, or one cake of com pressed yeast dissolved in a cup of tepid water, and flour enough to make a thick batter; set this as a sponge over night In the morning, add half a cup of melted but- ter, one cup of sugar, half a nutmeg grated,, one saltspoonful of salt, half a teaspoonful of soda, and flour enough to roll out like bis cuit. Knead well and set to rise for five hours. Roll the dough half an inch HELPS FOR THE HOUSEHOLD. 251 thick ; cut in round cakes, and lay in rows in a buttered baking-pan, and let the cakes stand half an hour ; or until light ; then put them in the oven, having first made a deep cross on each with a knife. Bake a light brown, and brush over with white of egg beaten stiff with powdered sugar. Rusks. Two cups of raised dough, one of sugar, half a cup of butter, two well- beaten eggs, flour enough to make a stiff dough; set to rise, and when light, mold into high biscuit, and let rise again; rub damp sugar and cinnamon over the top and place in the oven. Bake about twenty minutes. Scotch Scones. Thoroughly mix, while dry, one quart of sifted flour, loosely meas ured, with two heaping teaspoonfuls of bak ing powder ; then rub into it a tablespoonful of cold butter, and a teaspoonful of salt. Be sure that the butter is well worked in. Add sweet milk enough to make a very soft paste. Roll out the paste about a quarter of an inch thick, using plenty of flour on the paste board, and rolling-pin. Cut it into triangu lar pieces, each side about four inches long. Flour the sides and bottom of a biscuit-tin, and place the pieces on it. Bake immedi ately in a quick oven from twenty to thirty minutes. When half done, brush over with sweet milk. Some cooks prefer to bake them on a floured griddle, and cut them a round shape the size of a saucer, then scarred across to form four quarters. Cracknels. Two cups of rich milk, four tablespoonfuls of butter and a gill of yeast, a teaspQonful of salt; mix warm, add flour enough to make a light dough. When light, roll thin, and cut in long pieces three inches wide, prick well with a fork, and bake f)t a slow oven. They are to be mixed rither hard, and rolled very thin, like soda crackers. Raised Muffins. Make a batter of one pint of sweet milk, one teaspoonful of sugar, one of salt, a tablespoonful of butter or sweet lard, and a half cup of yeast; add flour enough to make it moderately thick; keep it in a warm, not hot, place, until it is quite light, then stir in one or two well-beaten eggs, and half a teaspoonful of soda, dissolved in a little warm water. Let the batter stand twenty-five or thirty minutes longer to rise a little, turn into well-greased muffin-rings or gem-pans, and bake in a quick oven. To be served hot, and torn open, instead of cut with a knife. Corn-meal Muffins (Without Eggs). One cup of flour, one cup of corn-meal, two table- spoonfuls of sugar, water to make a thick batter, or sour milk is better; mix at night; in the morning, add two tablespoonfuls of melted butter, and one teaspoonful of soda; bake in cake rounds. Hominy Muffins. Two cups of boiled hominy; beat it smooth, stir in three cups of sour milk, half a cup of melted butter, two teaspoonfuls of salt, two tablespoonfuls of sugar; add three eggs well-beaten; one teaspoonful of soda, dissolved in hot water; two cups of flour. Bake quickly. Rice muffins may be made in the same manner. Graham Gems. Two cupfuls of Graham flour, one cupful of wheat flour, two tea- spoonfuls of baking-powder, a tablespoonful of sugar, one of salt, and one well-beaten egg. Mix with sweet milk to make a thin batter ; beat it well. Bake in gem-irons ; have the irons well-greased; fill two-thirds full, and bake in a hot oven. Will bake in from fifteen to twenty minutes. Continental Hotel Waffles. Put into one quart of sifted flour three teaspoonfuls of baking-powder, one teaspoonful of salt, one of sugar, all thoroughly stirred and sifted COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AMD DOMESTIC LIFE. together; add a tablespoonful of melted butter, six well-beaten eggs, and a pint of sweet milk ; cook in waffle-irons, heated and Well greased. Serve hot German Rice Waffles. Boil j. half pound of rice in milk until it becomes thoroughly loft. Then remove it from the fire, stirring it Constantly, and adding, a little at a time, one quart of sifted flour, five beaten eggs, two spoonfuls of yeast, a half pound of melted butter, a little salt, and a teacupful of -warm milk. Set the batter in a warm place, and when risen, bake in the ordinary way. Pop-Overs. Two cups of flour, two cups of sweet milk, two eggs, one teaspoonful of butter, one teaspoonful of salt, bake in cups in a quick oven fifteen minutes. Serve hot with a sweet sauce. Corn-meal Griddle Cakes. Scald two cups of sifted meal, mix with a cup of wheat tlour, and a teaspoonful of salt. Add three well-beaten eggs ; thin the whole with sour milk enough to make it the right consist ency. Beat the whole till very light, and add a teaspoonful of baking-soda dissolved in a little water. If you use sweet milk, use two large teaspoonfuls of baking-ponder instead of soda. Golden-ball Fritters. Put into a stew- pan a pint of water, a piece of butter as large as an egg, and a tablespoonful of sugar. When it boils, stir into it one pint of sifted flour, stirring briskly and thoroughly. Remove from the fire, and when nearly cooled, beat into it six eggs, each one beaten separ ately, and added, one at a time, beating the batter between each. Drop the stiff dough into boiling lard by teaspoonfuls. Eat with syrup, or melted sugar and butter flavored. Stirring the boiling lard around and around, so that it whirls when you drop in the fritters, causes them to assume a round ghaoe like balls. Pine-Apple Fritters. Make a batter v* for apple fritters ; then pare one large pine apple, cut it in slices a quarter of an inch thick, cut the slices in halves, dip them into the batter and fry them, and seive them as above. Strawberry Short-cake.- Make a rule of baking-powder biscuit, with the exception of a little more shortening ; divide the dough in half; lay one-half on the moulding-board (half the dough makes one short-cake), divide this half again, and roll each piece large enough to cover a biscuit-tin, or a laige-sized pie-tin ; spread soft butter over the lower one, and place the other on top of that ; proceed with the other lump of dough the same, by cutting it in halves, and putting on another tin. Set them in the oven; when sufficient!}' baked take them out, separate each one by running a large knife through where the cold soft butter was spread. Then butter plentifully each crust, lay the bottom of each on earthen platters or dining-plates; cover thickly with a quart of strawberries that have been previously prepared with sugar, lay the top crusts on the fruit If there is any juice left, pour it around the cake. This makes a delicious short-cake. Peaches, raspberries, blackberries, and huckleberries can be substituted for straw berries. Always send to the table with a pitcher of sweet cream. Orange Short-cake. Peel two large oranges, chop them fine, remove the seeds, add half a peeled lemon, and one cup of sugar. Spread between the layers of short- cake while it is hot Lemon Short-cake. Make a rich biscuit dough, same as above recipe. While bak ing, take a cup and a quarter of water, a cup and a half of sugar, and two lemons, peel, juice and pulp, throwing away the tough HELPS FOR THE HOUSEHOLD. 253 part of the rind; boil this for some little time ; then stir in three crackers, rolled fine ; split the short-cakes while hot, spread with butter, then with the mixture. To be eaten warm. English Crumpets. One quart of warm milk, half a cup of yeast, one teaspoonful of salt, flour enough to make a stiff batter ; when light, add half a cupful of melted butter, a teaspoonful of soda, dissolved in a little water, and a very little more flour ; let it stand twenty minutes or until light. Grease some muffin rings, place them on a hot grid dle, and fill them half full of the batter ; when done on one side, turn and bake the other side. Butter them while hot ; pile one on another, and serve immediately. Gooseberry Jam. Take some goose berries that are not too ripe, pick them care fully, and lay them at the bottom of an earthenware pan, and cover them with sugar. Keep on doing this until the pan is almost filled, and then add a pint of water to every six pounds of gooseberries. Put the pan in a moderately heated oven until the sugar is converted into syrup, and the con tents begin to boil. Then remove the pre served fruit, and put it while hot into small jars, which should be securely covered with several layers of white paper. Gooseberry Jelly. Bruise a quantity of gooseberries and pass the pulp through a somewhat coarse cloth, and add three-quar ters of their weight of lump-sugar. Boil the fruit with sugar into a jelly, so thick that when a little is dropped on a plate it will not adhere to it, and then strain it. Apple Cream. Peel some apples, remove the cores, and cut them in thin slices. Put them into a saucepan with crushed sugar, sliced lemon-peel, and ground ginger, with a little red wine. Let them simmer until they become tender ; put them in a dish, and allow them to cool. Then boil a quart of cream with some nutmeg, and add the apples to it, with a sufficient quantity of sugar to sweeten it. Lemon Lozenges. Put a quarter of an ounce of gum tragacanth in a little water. Add to it some lemon-juice, and the peel cut in very thin slices. Stir them frequently for three or four days, until the gum forms a mucilage. Then strain it into a mortar; mix with it a pound of powdered lump- sugar, taking care to add the sugar by small portions at a time, and not to put another portion in it until the previous one has thoroughly mixed with the mucilage. When a white and flexible paste has thus been prepared, roll it into a sheet about as thick as a halfpenny, and cut it into dia monds with a knife or cutter. Arrange the lozenges on a plate, and dry them in a warm oven. French Mode of Cleaning Kid Gloves. The easiest and best way to clean a kid glove is to stretch it on the hand or on a stick, and then carefully rub it with a piece of moist flannel, on which a little powdered soap has been applied. When the dirt has been cleaned off the glove, the moisture is to be removed with a piece of dry flannel. Oil for Watches and Delicate Machinery,, Take a piece of sheet lead, scrape the sur face perfectly bright, and introduce it into a bottle of the purest olive oil. The bottle is then to be exposed to the action of the sun's light for some weeks, during which time it will deposit a quantity of mucilage on the surface of the lead. When it is found that the oil has deposited all the mucilage it con tained, it is to be carefully poured off, and preserved in stoppered bottles. Oil thus prepared may be kept for years without turning rancid, or becoming thick when ex posed to the action of the atmosphere. 254 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. To Clean Decanters and Water-bottles. When a water-bottle has contained hard water for a considerable time, it becomes coated in the interior with a deposit of car bonate of lime, with any other matters that the water may have contained. The easiest way of removing this is to add about a tea- spoonful of hydrochloric acid (spirit of salts), and rinse round the bottle with it. It will then be found that the instant the acid conies in contact with the deposit it imme diately removes it, and forms a clear solution of chloride of calcium. The bottle should tnen be rinsed in plenty of clean water. After a decanter has held port or other wines for a long period, a deposit of coloring matter will be thrown down on the surface of the glass. This may be easily cleaned off by a little sulphuric acid (oil of vitriol). Remedy for Chilblains. Sulphurous acid three parts, and glycerine one part, diluted with the same quantity of water. This fluid is particularly useful for allaying the intense itching with which chilblains are usually ac companied. The liquid is to be applied to the affected parts by means of a soft camel- hair pencil. Red Manifold Paper fcr obtaining Copies of Embroidery, or other Patterns. Rub a sheet of thin white paper with a smooth piece of red chalk, until every portion of its surface has been gone over. After wards rub the loose powder, which has become detached from the chalk, into the substance of the paper with a piece of fine linen, and dust off any portions of powder that may still remain on its surface. To use this paper, it should be laid with the pre pared side downwards on the sheet of white paper on which it is intended for the copy to appear. The pattern is then laid on it, and its outline carefully gone over with a blunt point, which must press gently on it, so as to transfer the red powder from the manifold paper to the surface on which it rests. If this is carefully done, with the requisite degree of pressure, when the manifold papei is removed a perfect impression of every line traced will be found on the paper on. which it rested. If wished, a number of copies can be obtained by only once going over the pattern, provided as many sheets of manifold and white paper are arranged as there are copies desired. To Purify Neat's-foot Oil. This may be done by mixing the oil with an equal quan tity of water, and placing them in a pan over the fire to simmer. Stir the oil con tinually till it is entirely mixed with the water, then remove the vessel from the fire, and allow it to cool. When quite cold, re move all the oil, which now floats on the surface, and again subject it to the same pro cess with more water. If it is desired to employ this oil for the preparation of cold cream, it may be perfumed by using orange- flower or rose-water, instead of ordinary water. To Preserve 'Jherries. Boil them in thick syrup in a pan, and let them remain until the next day. Then take them out, and put them in syrup that has been boiled down until it is ready to candy, and color them with some syrup of red currants. Cherries may also be preserved by another method. Take equal quantities of crushed loaf-sugar and ripe cherries, previously stoned. Place some of the sugar at the bottom of the preserving-pan, place the cher ries on it, and sprinkle more sugar over them as you place them in it. Then put the pan on the fire, and for each pound of fruit add half a quarter of a pint of red currant juice, and more of the sugar. Boil them fast over a good fire, frequently shaking the pan, but not stirring it. Skim the contents, HELPS FOR THE HOUSEHOLD. 255 when the syrup has become sufficiently thick, pour the preserved fruit into jelly-pots. To Preserve Cherries in Bunches. Select some cherries, and make them into bunches. Then boil them in a syrup, made with an equal weight of sugar, and the smallest pos sible quantity of water to dissolve it. Take the vessel from the fire and skim it, and let the cherries become cold. Then place them in the syrup into a warm oven, and let them remain until next day. Afterwards take them out and dry them. Method of Making Cloth and Leather Waterproof. The minute spaces between the fibres of the yarn, either of cloth, silk, or cotton goods, cause them to be pervious to water; therefore, these minute channels in c bth and the pores of leather must be closed up in order to make them waterproof. Many have been the means adopted and invented for the purpose, and some are quite simple enough to be adopted at home. One method is by immersion in a prepa- -ation composed of 2 oz. of pulverized alum dissolved in i pint of distilled water ; and I oz. of dry white-lead rubbed down in one pint of water. The two solutions are mixed and allowed to settle ; the liquor constitutes the required agent. Another method by immersion : i oz. dry white-lead rubbed down in half a pint of water; i oz. of pounded alum dissolved in half a pint of water ; mix, and add two fluid drachms of acetic acid, and allow to settle. When the cloth has been immersed in the liquor resulting from either of the above solutions, it is passed through a solution of quicklime, and a third time through a solu tion of Irish moss, which acts as a mucilage. Waterproofing in the household may be easily managed thus: Boil half an ounce of Russian isinglass in a pint of soft water until dissolved ; dissolve an ounce of alum in a quart of water; dissolve a quarter of an ounce of white soap in a pint of wateij strain these solutions separately through linen, and then mix them all together. Heat the liquid until it simmers, and apply it with a brush to the wrong side of the cloth on a flat table. When dry, brush the cloth lightly with water. This process renders the cloth impervious to water, but not to air, and is therefore a healthy manner of rendering articles waterproof. To Render Leather Boots Waterproof. Melt over a slow fire, one quart of boiled linseed oil; one pound of mutton suet; three-quarters of a pound of yellow beeswax; and half a pound of common resin; 02 smaller quantities in these proportions. With this mixture saturate the leather of new boots and shoes, having previously made them rather warm. To Preserve Bread for Long Periods. Cut the bread into thick slices, and bake it in an oven, so as to render it perfectly dry. In this condition it will keep good for any length of time required, and without turning mouldy or sour, like ordinary bread. The bread thus prepared must, however, be care fully preserved from pressure, otherwise, owing to its brittleness, it will soon fall to pieces. When required for use, it will only be necessary to dip the bread fot an instant into warm water, and then hold it before the fire until dry, and then butter it, when it will taste like toast. This is a useful way of preserving bread for sea voyages, and also any bread that may be too stale to be eaten in the usual way. Removing Ink- Stains. As furniture^ books, papers, and any other articles of value are liable to become disfigured by ink- stains, any information about the safest means of removing them is of value. Owing to the black color of writing-ink depending upon the iron it contains, the usual method is to employ some dilute acid in which the iron is soluble, and this, dissolving out the iron, takes away the color of the stain. Almost any acid will answer for this pur- ,pose, but it is of course necessary to employ 'those only that are not likely to injure the articles to which we apply them. A solution of oxalic acid may be used for this purpose, and answers very well. It has, however, the great disadvantage oi being very poison, ous, and thus requiring caution in its use Citric acid and tartaric acid, which are quite harmless, are therefore to be preferred, espec ially as they may be used on the most deli cate fabrics witnout any danger of injuring them. They may also be employed to remove marks of ink from books, as they do not injure printing-ink, into the composi tion of which iron does not enter. Lemon- juice, which contains citric acid, may also be used for the same purpose, but it does not succeed so well as the pure acid. To Remove Stains from Woollen Dresses. Make a thick rubbing of soap on a damp nail-brush. Spread the stained part on a deal table. Scrub with the brush and a sprinkling of water till quite removed. Take a wet cloth and wipe off the soap. To Remove Ink Stains. If spilt on. a table-cloth or carpet, take up quickly all you can into a spoon, and throw it in a plate or saucer, or any china article which will wash clean, or even in emergency on stout double brown paper. Take a rag or coarse cloth, dip it in' cold water, and squeeze it out. Rub the stain with it, and beyond the stain on all 'sides, quickly and plentifully, till every mark of the ink has disappeared. If very promptly done, no trace will remain. A second wet cloth may be used to finish with. Cloth table-covers are generally recovered this way. Almost any stain falling on a table-cloth, carpet, or hearth-rug cau thus be remove^ by prompt measures. Ink on Linen, Calico, or White Muslin. Immediately lay the damaged part of the article in plenty of milk. Immerse it well. Let it !:>:. Then rub it well. Let it lie> and rub it alternately all day. Only very hard rubbing will get it out, but every vestige may be removed. A French Method of Preserving Eggs. Paint over the surface of the eggs with a thick mucilage of gum arabic in water This may be easily prepared by putting some crushed gum arabic into a teacup, pouring boiling water over it; and allowing it to remain by the fire until dissolved. The commonest kind of gum arabic may be em ployed for the purpose. When the eggs thus coated are dry, they should be kept in a box surrounded by a very dry powdered char coal. When required for use, the gum may be removed by placing the egg in tepid water. Eggs intended to be thus preserved should be very fresh, kept at a regular and moderate temperature, and preserved from the contact of air and moisture. To Make Blackberry Wine. Press out the juice from fully-ripe blackberries and let it ferment, being lightly covered over for a couple of days, when it requires to be skimmed, and a half quantity of water, to gether with two or three pounds of raw sugar, added to each gallon of juice ; after which it should remain for about a day and a night in an open vessel, be skimmed and strained, poured into a clean cask, and bunged up. A bottle of brandy added in the cask improves the wine. It should re main at least six months in cask, and then be bottled. How to Preserve Milk. Pour the milk into a bottle, and place the vessel up to its neck in a saucepanful of water, which is HELPS FOR THE HOUSEHOLD. 257 then to be put on the fire, and allowed to j with. It acts through containing a large boil for a quarter of an hour. The bottle is now to be removed from the water, and carefully closed with a good and tight-fitting cork, so as to render it as air-tight as possible. Milk which has been preserved by this pro cess has been kept for more than a year without turning sour. Milk may also be preserved by putting a tablespoonful of horse-radish, scraped in shreds, into a panful of milk. When milk thus treated is kept in a cool place, it will be found to keep good for several days, even in hot weather. To Destroy Crickets or Beetles. Put some strong snuff in the cracks and holes from whence they come. The parings of cucumbers will, if strewn about near their holes, drive them away. To Destroy Flies. Strong green tea, sweetened well, and set in saucers about the places where they are most numerous, will attract and destroy them. This plan is much to be preferred to the use of those horrible fly-papers, which catch the poor insects alive, cruelly torturing them whilst starving them to death. A Scratched or Defaced Table. If a table is defaced or scratched, it may be sent to a cabinet-maker's, and planed and repolished, which will make it look like a new one. Cleaning Bottles. The fur from the in side of bottles can be removed by putting in small pieces of brown paper in cold water and shaking well about Cleaning Knives. Vinegar and fruit stains upon knives can be taken off by rub bing the blades with raw potato, and then polishing on the knife-board in the usual manner. A Cheap Substitute for Soap. The leaves and flowers of the plant called soap- wort are sometimes boiled in water, and the liquid used instead of soap to wash clothes 17 quantity of alkali. Pomade. Two ounces of lard, two ounces of olive oil, half an ounce of rose oil, and scent to fancy. A Hint on Baking. A basin of water put into the oven with cakes or pastry will keep them from burning. , To Remove Grease from Silk. Lay the silk on a table, on a clean white cloth. Cover the damage thickly with powdered French chalk. On this lay a sheet of blotting-paper, and on the top a hot iron. If the grease does not disappear at once, repeat the process. To Remove Port Wine Stains. If a glass of port wine is spilt on a dress or table-cloth, immediately dash all over it a glass of sherry. Rub vigorously with dry soft cloths. No stains will be left. To Clean Ladies* Kid Boots. Dip a rag in almond oil, and remove all the mud from the boot, a piece at a time, drying as you go, and never leaving the leather moist. Polish with clean rag and more oil. If you dislike the dulness this process leaves, when quite dry polish with the palm of the hand. Kid is thus both cleaned and preserved. Cleaning Copper. When it is desired to obtain a clean, bright surface upon copper, it is customary, in all countries, to use nitric acid. In this way the desired surface is obtained with little trouble, and at once. There is, however, the objection that a con siderable quantity of nitrous fumes are given off, and these red vapors are not only ex tremely disagreeable, but are very prejudicial to health. The production of these vapors may be avoided by adding a little solution of bichromate of potash to the dilute nitric acid. Kxperiment proves that this answer? perfectly. The copper surface is brought out clean and bright, without any disengage ment of vapors. On sanitary grounds, this 258 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC "LIFE. method of operating deserves to become ex tensively known. In the manufacture of copperware, a great deal of this cleaning is done, and the frequent exposure to the fumes cannot but be very injurious to the workmen. \ Cherry Brandy. Put twenty-four pounds of ripe cherries, stoned, and four pounds of strawberries in a cask; bruise them well with a stick, and then add six pounds of sugar, twenty-four cloves, some cinnamon and nutmegs, together with the kernels of the cherry stones; pour over them three gallons of brandy. Let the cask remain open for ten or twelve days, and then close it, and let it remain for two months, when it will be fit for use. Sparkling Grape Wine, or English Cham pagne. Remove the stalks and decayed grapes, bruise the fruit, and to every pound put one quart of cold water ; let it stand in a convenient vessel three days, stirring it twice or three times a day ; then strain, and to every gallon of liquor add three and a quarter pounds of lump sugar; dissolve this as quickly as possible, and put the whole at once, into the cask. Ten days afterwards put into the cask to every five gallons of wine one pint of brandy and a quarter of an ounce of isinglass. This should be bottled in champagne bottles, when the vines are in bloom the following summer, and the corks will require to be tied or wired down. The grapes for making it should be tolerably but not fully ripe. Sweet Grape Wine. Pick the grapes as above, crush and strain, and to each gallon of juice add three and a quarter pounds of lump sugar; put it immediately into the cask, and bottle when the vines bloom the following summer. The grapes should be fully but not over-ripe. Sparkling Green Gooseberry Wine. Pick out the defective gooseberries, remove the stalks and tails, and bruise the fruit in such a manner as not to crush the seeds ; to every pound put one quart of water. This must be let stand three or four days, and be stirred three or four times a day ; then strain, and to every gallon of liquor add three pounds of coarse loaf sugar. When this is dissolved put it into the cask, and to every five gallons of wine add one pint of brandy and a quarter of an ounce of isinglass. The wine will gen erally be fit to bottle in five months, but if it be found too sweet, and not clear, it may be allowed to remain longer. The gooseberries should be taken when fully grown, but be fore they begin to turn ripe. Ripe Gooseberry Wine (Still). Pick and bruise the fruit in a convenient tub or otner vessel, and let it stand twenty-four hours ; then strain, and return the skins and seeds to the tub, ana pour on them tolerably hot water, in the proportion of one quart to every gallon of gooseberries ; let this stand twelve hours, and then strain, and mix the water with the juice. To every five gallons of this liquor add twelve pounds of lump sugar ; let it ferment well in the tub, then skim off the head, and draw off as much of the liquor as will run clear ; put this in the cask, and add to every five gallons two quarts of brandy. To be in perfection it should not be bottled for five years, but it may be used, if necessary, at the expiration of twelve months. Currant Wine. Bruise ripe currants with their stalks, and to every fourteen pounds put eleven quarts of water. Let them stand twenty-four hours ; then strain, add one pound of lump sugar to each pound of cur rants, and stir twice a day for two days; afterwards put the liquor into the cask with a pint of brandy to each fourteen pounds of fruit. Three quarts of raspberries or straw berries to each fourteen pounds of currants is considered an improvement. To white currant wine some persons add a few bitter almonds, pounded. Currant wines should not be bottled for twelve months, and will improve if left for a longer period. Ripe gooseberry wine may be made by the same formula, if desired. Strawberry or Raspberry Wine. Bruise three gallons of either fruit, and add to it an equal measure of water ; let them stand twenty-four hours ; then add two gallons of cider, eight pounds of lump sugar, the rind of a lemon cut thin, and one ounce of powdered red tartar. Put into the cask with one gallon of brandy. For raspberry wine a gallon of currant juice, substituted for a like quantity of water, will be an im provement. Damson Wine. To four gallons of dam sons pour four gallons of boiling water in a tub or other convenient vessel ; let this stand four or five days, and stir it every day with the hand ; then strain, and to every gallon of liquor add three and a half pounds of lump sugar ; when this is dissolved put the whole into the cask. It may be bottled in twelve months. Cherry Wine. Same as damson, but as cherries are sweeter, three pounds of sugar only need be used to the above quantity. Many persons like the flavor of the kernels in damson and cherry wines ; to give this, one-eighth of the stones should be broken, and infused with the fruit. Sloe Wine. Same as damson, but four pounds of sugar should be used instead of ihree and a half to the above quantity. A considerable length of time should be given i.o the sloe wine in the cask, and it will be come little inferior to port. Rhubarb Wine (Sparkling). Cut five pounds of rhubarb into short pieces as for tarts, and pour on them a gallon of water ; HELPS FOR THE HOUSEHOLD. 259 let this stand five days, and stir each day ; then strain off, and to the liquor add four pounds of lump sugar. When this is dis solved put it into the cask with one lemon and one pennyworth of isinglass. This will be fit to bottle in six months. Apple Wine. To a gallon of cider (new from the mill) add a pound and a half of moist sugar, a quarter of a pound of raisins, and half a lemon ; put in the cask as soon as the sugar is dissolved. This will be fit for use in two months. As the fruits or other vegetable substances on which the foregoing wines are based con tain a natural ferment, they will undergo that process spontaneously, and require no yeast Those that follow will require yeast to make them ferment. Ginger Wine. To six gallons of watel put eighteen pounds of lump sugar, the rinds (thinly pared) of seven lemons and eight oranges, and eight ounces of ginger; boil the whole for an hour, and let it cool. When lukewarm add the juice of the above fruit and three pounds of raisins. Work with yeast, and put it into the cask with half an ounce of isinglass. This will be fit to bottle in six or eight weeks. Orange Wine. Boil thirty pounds of lump sugar in ten gallons of water for half an hour, taking off the scum as it rises. When the water has become nearly cold, put to it the juice of one hundred Seville oranges, and the peel of fifty ; ferment with half a pint of yeast on a toast ; let it stand twenty-four hours to ferment ; then put it into the cask with one quart of brandy. When fermen tation ceases stop it close for three months; then rack it ofF, and put it again into the cask with one quart more brandy and one and a half pounds of raw sugar. This will be fit to bottle in twelve months. To Wash Silk. Lay the silk smoothly on 200 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. a clean board, rub soap upon it, and brush it with a rather hard brush. The amount of brushing requisite will depend on the quantity of grease upon the silk. When it has been sufficiently brushed with the soap to cleanse It from grease and dirt, it should be well brushed on both sides with clean cold water. A little alum infused in the last water with which the silk is brushed will prevent the colors from spreading. Should there be any patches of grease upon the silk, they should be removed as previously described, or by the application of a little camphine and alcohol. Folding or wringing silk when wet must be scrupulously avoided, as creases made in silk when wet will never disappear ; and, in like manner, hot suds must not be used for washing silks, as it will in most instances remove the colors. To Clean Colored Fabrics. Nearly all colored fabrics stain the lather used to clean them, and that without losing their own brightness in any way. No article of a dif ferent color must be plunged into a wash or rinse so stained, but must have fresh ones ; and no colored article must be rinsed in a blued lather. Scarlet is particularly prone to color a wash. Different colors are improved by different substances being used in the wash or rinse ; sugar of lead has the credit of fixing all colors when first cleaned, and may be used to those likely to run. To brighten colors, mix some ox-gall, say two pennyworth ; but of course the quantity must be regulated by the quantity of suds in the wash and rinse. For buff and cream-colored alpaca or cash mere, mix in the wash and rinse two penny worth of friar's balsam for one skirt For black materials, for one dress, two penny worth of ammonia in the wash and rinse. For violet, ammonia or a small quantity of Boda in the rinsing water. There are some violets and mauves that fade in soaa. Foi green, vinegar in the rinse, in the proportion of two tablespoonfuls of vinegar to a quart of rinse. For blue, to one dress, a good handful of common salt in the rinse. For brown and gray, ox-gall. For white, blue the water with laundry blue. Dresses, mantles, shawls, opera-cloaks, under-skirts, Garibaldis and Zouaves, (the latter and such small articles need not be unpicked if the trimming is removed), articles embroidered with silk, self-colored or chintz- colored, damask curtaining, moreen and other woollen curtaining, may all be cleansed as specified so far. Blankets should be cleaned in the same way. Pull them out well, whilst wet, at both sides and both ends, between two per sons. When half dry it is a good plan to take them off the line and pull them again ; when quite dry, just give them a little more pulling out. This keeps them open and soft. Blankets are not blued so much as flannels, presently described. Never use soda to them, and never rinse them in plain water or rub on soap. The dyers and cleaners have a mode of pressing articles which gives to many of them, such as damask and moreen curtaining and Paisley shawls, a superior appearance to anything that can be achieved at home ; but some of them will press articles at a fixed price for persons cleaning them at home. Worsted braids and fancy trimmings can be cleaned the same way. Muslin dresses, even of the most delicate colors, can be cleaned in ten minutes or a quarter of an hour, without losing their color. Melt half a pound of soap in a gallon of water ; empty it in a washing tub ; place near two other large tubs of clean water, and stir into it one quart of bran. Put the mus lin in the soap, turn it over, and knead it for HELPS FOR THE HOUSEHOLD. 261 a few minutes ; squeeze it out well, but do not wring it, lest it get torn ; rinse it about quickly in the bran for a couple of minutes. Rinse again well for a couple of minutes in clean water. Squeeze out dry and hang it between two lines. A clear dry day should be chosen to wash muslin dresses ; half a dozen may be done in this way in half an hour. The last rinse may be prepared the same way as the rinses for woollen fabrics. A colored pattern on a white ground must not be blued. The bran may here be dis pensed with. When the dress is dry make the starch ; for a colored muslin, white starch, and un boiled, but made with boiling water, is best for muslin dresses. Stir the starch with the end of a wax candle. Dip the dres& Hang it again to dry. When dry, rinse it quickly and thoroughly in clear water. Hang it to dry again. Sprinkle and roll it up ; after wards iron it with very hot irons. Hot irons keep the starch stiff. This rinsing after starching is called clear-starching ; none of the stiffness but much of the unsightliness of the starch is removed in this way. All kinds of white muslins, lace curtains, cravats, etc., may be washed in a thick lye of soap, as described, well rinsed, blued and starched, like the muslin dresses above named. Use blue starch to white. White muslin Garibaldis should be very slightly blued, and the same may be observed of book-muslin dresses and cravats, as blue- looking muslin is very unbecoming to the complexion ; a slight creamy tinge is pre ferable. Morning cambric dresses may be washed the same way as muslin dresses ; but they do not generally clean quite so readily, and per haps may need rubbing a little in places that are soiled. The advantage of thus cleaning' dresses in stead of washing them is first, if colored, the process is so rapid that there is not time fof the colors to run. Secondly, the fabric is not rubbed, and therefore not strained and worn out. Thirdly, the process saves nearly all labor, and is so quickly done that any lady may manage it foi herself in the absence oi a laundry maid or a lady's maid. Many ladies make a trong solution of sugar of lead some put two pennyworth in enough cold water for one dress ; stir it well when dissolved, and let the dress, muslin or cotton, soak a couple of hours to set the colors before washing it the first time. It does not need to be repeated. Those using sugar of lead should be careful nor to do so if they have any scratches, abrasions, or wounds about their hands. Chintz may be cleaned in the same way as muslin and print dresses. To Clean Black Silk with very Little Trouble and Expense. Take entirely to pieces the dress, jacket, etc., and well shake each piece ; then spread over a table a news paper, or sheet of clean paper, and on it lay a breadth of the silk. Brush it well both sides with a fine soft brush a hat brush would very well answer the purpose. Shake it again ; fold together in half, and place it on one side of the table. In the same man ner shake, brush, and shake again each piece of the silk. Remove the paper, and place or the table a clean newspaper or sheet of paper. Newspapers answer best ; they are large and smooth, and probably at hand. On the paper again place a breadth of the silk, and into a clean quart pudding-basin pour a half pint of cold water, adding half a pint of good sweetened gin, which is better for the pur pose than unsweetened, as the sugar stiffens the silk. These are the proportions for any quantity required. Have ready a piece of black crape or black merino about half a 2(52 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. yard square ; dip it well into the liquid, and thoroughly wash over the best side of the silk. Be careful that it is well cleaned, and, if possible, wash it from edge to edge, and wet it well all over. Then fold over the silk in half; then again, till the folds are the aridth of those of new silk. Place it in a clean towel, and clean each piece of the silk in the same manner, laying one piece on the other, and remembering by a mark which is the last piece done, as that must be the last ironed. Let the silk lie folded in the towel until a large iron is well heated ; but be careful that it is not too hot ; try it first on paper, or a piece of old damped silk. Use two irons. Open the towel when the iron is ready, and place the piece of silk that was first cleaned on an old table-cloth or sheet folded thick ; iron the wrong side quickly, from edge to edge, until dry. Fold the silk over lightly to the width of new silk, and place it on one end of the table until all is done. This simple process stiffens, cleans, and makes the silk look new. Directions for Cleaning Black Merino, or any Woolen Stuff, Black Cloth Jackets, Cloaks, or Gentlemen's Clothes, etc. Pur chase, at a chemist's, five cents worth of carbonate of ammonia. Place it in a clean quart pudding-basin, and pour upon it a pint of boiling water ; cover it over with a clean plate, and let it stand to get cold. Having taken entirely to pieces the dress, jacket, or cloak, shake each piece well ; then spread a large newspaper over a deal table, place one breadth of the material upon it, and brush it well on both sides with a fine hard brush ; shake it again and place it on one side of the table, folded in half. Brush and shake in the same manner each piece folding and placing one piece on the other at the end of the table. When all are brushed, remove the paper and replace it with a fresh, one, upon which place another, if thin. upon the paper one breadth of the stuff, quite smooth and flat, the wrong side next the paper; then take a piece of black merino, about half a yard square ; dip it in the carbonate of ammonia and water (cold) ? well wet it, and wash over the stuff o cloth. If cloth, care must be taken to wash it the right way, so as to keep it smooth; when well washed over, fold the material in half, and place it in a clean towel, laying one piece over the other, until all are done. Mark the last, as that will be the last to be ironed. Let the merino, or cloth, rest in the towel for about an hour; then iron the wrong side, after placing it on a thickly folded blanket, or sheet, with a thin sheet of paper, old glazed lining out of the dress, or piece of linen, over the blanket or sheet Iron each piece on the wrong side until quite dry, and have two heavy irons, one heating while the other is in use. Fold over the pieces, the width of new merino, but be careful not to fold it so as to mark it sharply, especially cloth. Gentlemen's clothes can thus be cleaned without taking to pieces, or ironing, unless quite convenient Vest and coat collars are thus easily renovated, the color is revived, grease spots and v ,vhite seams removed. To Renovate Crape. Brush the crape well with a soft brush, and over a wide- mouthed jug of boiling water hold tightly the crape, gradually stretching it over the jug of boiling water. If a strip of crape, it is very easily held tightly over the water, letting the piece done fall over the jug until all is completed. The crape will become firm and fit for use, every mark and fold being removed. White or colored crape may be washed and pinned over a newspaper, 01 towel, on the outside of a bed, until dry. Crape that has been exposed to rain ordain|j HELPS FOR THE HOUSEHOLD. 263 veils especially may be saved from spoil ing by being stretched tightly on the outside of the bed with pins, until dry; and no crape should be left to dry without having been pulled into proper form. If black crape, lace, cr net is faded or turned brown, it may be dipped into water, colored with the bluebag, adding a lump of loaf-sugar to stiffen, and pinned onto a newspaper on a bed. Washing Clothes. If pipe-clay is dis solved in the water, the linen is thoroughly cleansed with half the labor and fully a saving of one-fourth of soap; and the clothes will be improved in color equally as if bleached. The pipe-clay softens the hardest water. A cent's worth to four gal lons of water. To Keep Moths from Fur and Woolen Clothes. In May brush fur and woolen clothes, wrap them tightly up in linen, and put them away in drawers. Pepper or red cedar chips are good preservatives from moths, but camphor is the best. Washing Chintzes. These should always be washed in dry weather, but if it is very cold it is better to dry them by the fire than risk spoiling the colors from freezing in the open air. It is better, if possible, to defer their washing till the weather is suitable. To Clean Paint. Simmer together in a pipkin one pound of soft soap, two ounces soft pearlash, one pint of sand, and one pint of table beer ; to be used as soap. Another Way. Grate to a fine pulp four potatoes to every quart of water; stir it; then let it settle, and pour off the liquor. To be used with a sponge. Wash-Leather Gloves. The grease spots should be first removed by rubbing them with magnesia, cream of tartar, or Wilming ton clay scraped to powder. Make a lather of soap and water, put the gloves into the water lukewarm, as hot water will shrink them ; wash and squeeze them through this, then squeeze them through a second sud. Rinse in lukewarm water, then in cold, and dry them in a hot sun or before the fire, well stretching them, to prevent them from shrinking. To Mend China. A very fine cement may be made by boiling down a little isinglass, and afterwards adding to it about half the quantity ol spirits of wine, which should be applied while warm. This cement is especi ally valuable in mending glass, as it is free from any opaque appearance. A very strong cement may be made in the following manner, and kept for application at any time : Heat a piece of white flint stone to a white heat, and cast it, while at this heat, into a vessel of cold water, which will re duce it to a fine powder. Carefully preserve this flint powder, and mix it with rosin to the consistency of thick paste. The rosin should be heated in an earthenware pipkir. To apply this cement, heat the edges of the pieces of the article to be mended, rub upon them this cement, and place them neatly and well togf ther. W 1 ^en dry, scrape off all excresce? t ce of the cement when the article will be perfect. Damp 'W'^is. Boil two quarts of tai with t^o ounces of kitchen grease in an iron saucepan for a quarter of an hour; to this mixture add some slaked lime and very finely-pounded glass, which has previously been through a hair-sieve. The proportions should be two parts lime to one of glass, worked to the thickness of a thin plaster. This cement must be used as soon as made, or else it will become too hard. One coat, about an inch thick, has generally answered the purpose, but if the wall is very damp, it may receive two coats. Paint over the cement or plaster, and paper may be used to cover it 264 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. To Restore Plated Cruet-Stands, Candle sticks, etc., when the Silver is worn off. Purchase at the chemist's four cents' worth of mercury, and two cents' worth of prepared chalk, mix as a powder. Half the chalk may be used. Make it into a paste with a little water, in a saucer, and with a small piece of leather rub the article until the tarnish quite disappears. Polish with a leather. If this powder is used about once a week to plated articles, when worn, they will be kept as white as silver. Freckles. To remove freckles, take one ounce of lemon-juice, a quarter of a drachm of powdered borax, and half a drachm of sugar ; mix, and let them stand a few days in a glass bottle, then rtik it on the face and hands occasionally. To Clean Dirty or Stained Furniture. If the furniture is in a bad state, but not stained, it will be sufficient to cleanse it by well washing with spirits of turpentine, and afterwards polishing with linseed oil colored with alkanet root. When, however, the fur niture is stained or inky, it should be washed with sour beer or vinegar, warm ; afterwards rubbing the stains with spirit of salts rubbed on with a piece of rag, which will remove all the stains. The wood may then be pol ished, with linseed oil colored with alkanet root, or with beeswax, dissolved in turpentine, with a little copal varnish or resin added. To Render New Mahogany Like Old. This is of service in the cases of furniture repaired, or when lacquered handles have been changed for mahogany ones. Soap and watei will darken to some extent ; but if darker is required, use oil ; or for very dark, lime-water. To Clean Lacquered Brass-work of Fur niture. Wash in warm water, using a soft rag. If the work will not clean by this means, it must be re-lacquered. To Make Colored Drawings or Prints Resemble Oil-Paintings. This is a favorite plan of treating pictures, as it gives them a showy appearance, and prevents their requir ing glasses. Wash over the drawing or print with a solution of isinglass, and when dry apply with a very fine soft brush a varnish, composed of two parts of spirits of turpentine and one of Canada balsam, mixed together. This plan of treating pictures is much used. Asphalt for Garden-Walks, Fowl- Houses, Sheds, etc. Having laid the walk quite even, and beaten it firm, pour upon it a coat of hot tar; while hot, sift thickly all over it road-dust or cinder-ashes. When cold, repeat the same process several times, and a good, hard, durable and wholesome flooring will be effected. It is particularly recommended for the purpose of fowl-houses, as being very healthy to the stock. To Repair Broken Walls. Mix with water equal parts of plaster of Paris and white house-sand, with which stop the broken place in the wall. To Clean Looking-Glasses. Having dusted the glass with a soft duster quite free from grit, in order not to scratch the glass, sponge it with diluted spirits of wine or gin, and dust over it a little very fine powdei through a muslin bag ; rub the. glass, with A light hand, with the soft duster, and finish off with a soft piece of silk or old hand kerchief. To Clean Stone Steps and Stairs. Where there are large flights of stone steps and flagged pathways, the process of cleaning is a long and tedious one. The common method of cleaning with hearthstone, or caked whitening, not only gives a smeary appearance, but washes off with a shower of rain. The preparation which we here give not only has a great preference in appear ance, but, in the long run, saves labor ; as HELPS FOR THE HOUSEHOLD. 265 with it twice a week is sufficient for whiten ing, and the remaining days washing will be found sufficient. Take a gallon of water, and color to the intensity of deep-colored blue water with stone-blue. Boil in it a pound of white size, and dissolve in it a quarter of a pound of whitening and three cakes of pipe-clay, stirring it well about. Wash over the steps with this solution in a slight, quick manner, and afterwards finish with clean water in the usual way. Liquid Glue and Cement. Take of crushed orange-shellac four ounces, of recti fied spirit of wine (strong), or rectified wood naphtha, three ounces. The rectified spirit f wine makes a far superior composition, but the other is good enough for all ordinary work. Dissolve the shellac in the spirit, in a corked bottle in a warm place ; frequent shaking will assist it in dissolving, and it should also be shaken before use. This composition may be used as a varnish for unpainted wood. Cement for Mending Broken Vessels. To half a pint of milk put a sufficient quan tity of vinegar in order to curdle it; separate the curd from the whey, and mix the whey with the whites of four eggs, beating the whole well together; when mixed, add a little quick-lime through a sieve until it acquires the consistency of a paste. With this cement broken vessels or cracks can be repaired ; it dries quickly, and resists the action of fire and water. Red Ink. Take of white wine vinegar one quart, powdered Brazil wood two ounces, and alum half an ounce; infuse them together for ten days, then let them gently simmer over a slow fire, after which add a good half ounce of gum arabic. When the gum is dissolved, strain the mixture and bottle it for use. Ink thus prepared will keep its color for many years. Violet Ink. Boil a good quantity of logwood chips in vinegar, and add to the mixture a little alum and gum arabic. The depth of the tint may be modified by vary ing the proportions of logwood and vinegar. Black Ink. Heat a quart of rain water till it almost boils, and then put into it twc ounces of green copperas; when cold strain it, and add to the liquor five ounces of powdered galls and two ounces of loaf-sugar. This ink keeps its color well. Paste for Moulding. Melt some glue in water, and let it be tolerably strong. Mix with this whiting until it is as firm as dough; then work it into the moulds, which mnst be previously oiled. Polish for Marble. Melt over a slow fire four ounces of white wax, and while it is warm stir into it with a wooden spatula an equal weight of oil of turpentine; when thoroughly incorporated, put the mixture into a bottle or other vessel, which must be well corked whenever not in use. A little of the above is put upon a piece of flannel and well rubbed upon the marble. Another : Fine rotten stone, with olive oil, rubbed upon the marble till the desired lustre is attained. Candied Horehound. Take some hore- hound and boil it till the juice is extracted, when sugar, which has been previously boiled until candied, must be added to it. Stir the compound over the fire until it thickens. Pour it out into a paper case dusted over with fine sugar, and cut it into squares or any other shapes desired. Peppermint Drops. A brass or block-tin saucepan must be rubbed over inside with a little butter. Put into it half a pound of crushed lump sugar with a tablespoonful or so of water. Place it over the fire, and let it boil briskly for ten minutes, when a dessert spoonful of essence of peppermint is to be 266 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. stirreu into it. It may then be let fall in drops upon writing paper, or poured out upon plates which have been rubbed over with butter. Ginger Drops. Mix one ounce of prepared ginger with one pound of loaf-sugar; beat to a paste two ounces of fresh candied orange hi a mortar, with a little sugar. Put the above into a brass or block-tin saucepan with a little water. Stir them all well, and boil until they are sufficiently amalgamated, which will be when the mixture thickens like ordinary candied sugar. Pour out on writing paper in drops, or on plates as for peppermint drops. Lemon Drops. Grate three large lemons ; then take a large piece of best lump sugar and reduce it to a powder. Mix the sugar and lemon on a plate with half a teaspoon- ful of flour, and beat the compound with the white of an egg until it forms a light paste. It must then be placed in drops on a clean sheet of writing paper, and placed before the fire to dry hard rather than to bake. Polish for Furniture. White wax and oil of turpentine, as in the directions for polish for marble. A small quantity applied with flannel or other woolen cloth, and well rubbed, is excellent for mahogany and Walnut. If it is desired to give a yellowish tint for light colored wood, the turpentine should have infused into it, for forty-eight hours before mixing, a small quantity of quercitron, or dyer's oak. To give it a reddish tinge, a little alkanet may be used in the same way as the quercitron. Opodeldoc. Opodeldoc and soap liniment re the same thing. It is a popular external application for local pains and swellings, bruises, sprains, and rheumatism. There are several ways of making it. One recipe is: One ounce of camphor, five ounces of castile soap, one drachm of oil of rosemary, one and a quarter pints of rectified spirits of wine, and one and a quarter pints of water. This requires to digest for a week, and to be occasionally stirred. When ready, filter aud bottle for use. Eau de Cologne. An excellent form oi eau de Cologne may be thus prepared : Take two drachms of the seeds of the lesser carda mom, and put them into a still with two quarts of rectified spirits of wine, and add twenty-four drops of each of the following oils : bergamot, lemon, orange, neroli, rose mary, and cedrat ; allow them to remain for a few days, and then distil three pints of perfume. Sometimes a stronger preparation is made by employing half the quantity of spirit to the same quantity of materials. This preparation may also be made by omitting the seeds, and dissolving the oils in the spirit without distillation. In this case the perfume will be improved by allowing the eau de Cologne, when made, to remain at rest in a cool place, such as a dry wine-cellar, for two or three months before being used. A good kind of eau de Cologne is thus prepared : Take a quarter of an ounce of the oils of lemon and bergamot, and half that quantity of oil of orange peel, half a drachm of oil of rosemary, and forty drops of the oil of neroli, and dissolve them in one pint of rectified spirits of wine. This preparation will be much improved by the addition of a few drops of the essences of musk and ambergris. To Clean Combs. Tie one end of a silk thread to the handle of a washstand. Seat yourself before it with a napkin spread oou your lap, and holding the other end of the thread tightly in your left hand, take the comb in your right and pass it hard and carefully along the silk, which should be HELPS FOR THE HOUSEHOLD. 267 made to go in between the teeth of the comb separately > so as to remove or scrape out all the impurities. Then rub the comb with a brush or a soft cloth ; rinse it in warm soapsuds and wipe it dry. The Complexion. A daily bath is an adjunct to the beauty of the skin, and so is everything that conduces to health, such as early hours, avoidance of close, crowded rooms, a daily walk, pure air, and suitable diet. Too poor and too rich diet injure the skin equally. Care should be taken not to tan or freckle the skin. A black veil should not be worn in sunny weather. It is well not to wash the face too frequently ; it should be made clean before retiring to rest at night, that nothing may obstruct the free action of the perspiration, and that, with the morning ablutions, should suffice. Of one thing be very careful ; never wash the face when you are heated, or soon after walking or dancing, especially in cold water. Drinking cold Water, also, at such times, is greatly injuri ous. Doing either is well known to cause a permanent discoloration of a frightful de scription. Tight lacing and tight boots are also sometimes the cause of a red nose or a skin disease. Rose water is harmless to the skin, and sulphur is frequently beneficial. A wash of rose water and flowers of sulphur may be used when there is any disfigurement of the skin, such as we have just indicated. First wash the face clean, shake the bottle, and bathe the face at night for ten minutes. Let it dry unwiped. But unless there is any cause do not use any preparation ; let well alone. It is pleasant after all to think that the finest beautifiers are within the reach of every one, and are such simple cosmetics as cold water, fresh air, and temperate habits. In proportion as we have endeavored to prove how small a part the features in them selves play as to the higher purposes of a face namely, its identity and moral charac ter we have increased the responsibility of every one who carries a face as to the impres sion it ought to create. This responsibility of course, extends equally to man as to woman ; but a larger sphere of it belongs to the latter. With her is associated a separate idea, that as beauty is proper to her, the loves and the graces are felt to reside natur ally in a woman's countenance, but to be quite out of place in a man's. His face is formed to be clean, and may be allowed to be picturesque but it is a woman's place to be beautiful. Beauty of some kind is so much the attri bute of the sex, that a woman can hardly be said to feel herself a woman who has not, at one time of her life at all events, felt her self to be fair. Beauty confers an education of its own, and that always a feminine one. Most celebrated beauties have owed their highest charms to the refining education which their native ones have given them. It was the wisdom as well as the poetry of the age of chivalry that it supposed all women to be beautiful, and treated them as such. A woman is not fully furnished for her part in life whose heart has not occasionally swelled with the sense of possessing some natural abilities in the great art of pleasing, opening to her knowledge secrets of strength, wonderfully intended to balance her muscu lar, or if it may be her general weakness. And herein we see how truly this attribute belongs to woman alone. Man does not need such a consciousness, and seldom has it without rendering himself extremely ridicu lous; while to a woman it is one of the chief weapons in her armory, 268 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. What can be more cruel than the con tinual forcing upon a young girl the wither ing conviction of her own plainness ? If this be only a foolish sham to counteract the supposed demoralizing consciousness of beauty, the world will soon counteract that ; Dut if the victim have really but a scanty supply of charms, it will, in addition to in calculable anguish of mind, only diminish these further still. To such a system alone can we ascribe an unhappy, anomalous style of a young woman, occasionally met with, who seems to have taken on herself the vows of voluntary ugliness, who neither eats enough to keep her complexion clear nor smiles enough to set her pleasing muscles in action who prides herself on a skinny par simony of attire which she calls neatness thinks that alone respectable which is most unbecoming is always thin, and seldom well, and passes through the society of the lovely, the graceful, and the happy, with the vanity that apes humility on her poor disap pointed countenance, as if to say, " Stand back, I am uncomelier than thou. " The Art of Beauty. Mrs. S. C. Hall says : " Beauty of the face depends more upon the movement of the face than upon the form of the features when at rest. . Thus a countenance habitu ally under the influence of amiable feelings acquires a beauty of the highest order, from the frequency with which such feelings are the originating causes of the movement or expressions which stamp their character up on it " The following passage, by Mrs. Jamieson, we cordially recommend to our lady readers : " In the morning use pure water as an ar> lution ; after which they must abstain from all sudden gusts of passion, particularly envy, as that gives the skin a sallow pale ness. It may seem trifling to speak of tern perance, yet this must be attended to both in eating and drinking, it they would avoid pimples. Instead of rouge, let them use moderate exercise, which will raise a natural bloom in their cheeks, inimitable by art. Ingenuous candor, and unaffected good humor, will give an openness to their coun tenance that will make them universally agreeable. A desire of pleasing will add fire to their eyes, and breathing the air of sunrise will give their lips a vermilion hue. That amiable vivacity which they now poss ess may be highly heightened and preserved, it they would avoid late hours and card-play ing, as well as novel-reading by candle-light, but not otherwise ; for the first gives the face a drowsy, disagreeable aspect ; the second is the mother of wrinkles ; and the third is a fruitful source of weak eyes and a sallow complexion. " A nice hand is a very desirable orna ment ; and a hand can never be perfectunless it be kept clean. Nor is this all, for if a young lady would excel her companions in this respect, she must keep her hands in con stant motion, which will occasion the blood to circulate freely, and have a wonderful effect. The motion recommended is work ing at her needle, making herself useful" i i s O et g II CO w W ' pa O 5 CHAPTER XX. House-Building, or How to Obtain a Home. HE following artistic house designs, with floor plans, are furnished by the National Architects' Union of Philadelphia. The designs and plans of the National Architects' Union are considered the best, and while the publishers of this work are gratified at being able to reproduce a number, they take this opportunity of expressing their grateful acknowledgements for the privilege of making use of them. PERSPECTIVE VIEW OF DESIGN NO. 1. ESTIMATED COST $2250, BRICK- FRAME, $1750. 269 2/0 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. This beautiful cottage will never fail to please the owner's eye, and, better still 4nake his wife happy and contented. It will be found cool and airy in summer, and easily kept warm in winter. In many sections of the country this house 2an be built for less than its estimated cost, if our plans are followed. First Story. Entering the front door, you come into a large roomy vestibule, from which you go either to parlor or sitting-room, 18 x 17.6 feet, with open fireplace, or to a light and cheerful dining-room 17.6 x 14 feet. Back of this is a comfortable and convenient kitchen 14 x n feet, well supplied with closets, and opening into a rear stoop with water-closet. First Floor. Design No. 1. High houses and ceilings are much cheaper for their room, and every way better than low. Foundation and roof, the two most costly parts of all houses, are the same in both for their size; yet it takes double of both for a given amount of room in a one story as compared with a two and three no trifling difference. An east or west entrance will enable you to put your parlor on the north and sitting- room on the south side, while a northern entrance naturally gives the sun to the kit chen, and a southern to your parlor. These facts are worth considering in laying out the house you are to live in always. The old-fashioned method of building a house was to pay little or no attention to sun exposure. The fact is, sunshine has so much to do with both health and spirits that in your living rooms you cannot afford to be without it. " Let there be light " in your home ; let the sunbeams have a chance to make you healthy and happy. This is vastly cheaper than doctors' bills. Second Story, Has three light, roomy, cool bed-rooms, and, best of all, around each room and under the roof are ample closets and store room. MATERiALa Foundation, rough stone work ; first story, in brick work ; second story, frame, painted on sheathing, and be tween same clapboarded ; roof shingled J basement under main walls. < I Second Floor. Design No. 1. HOUSE-BUILDING, OR HOW TO OBTAIN A HOME. 271 I PERSPECTIVE VIEW OF DESIGN No. 2, ESTIMATED COST, $1000. First Story. A large and pretty vestibule affords entrance from the porch to the more private house-hall, and the parlor (10 x 14), and sitting-room (14 x 8.6), two pleasing, light and comfortable rooms, opening into each other, and allowing of the sitting-room being used as a bed-chamber if desired. Back of these is a very large diaing-room (10 x 21 ), which has large closets and open fire-place. The kitchen (10 x 14.6) is a good-sized and well-lighted room, with large pantry attached. a Second Story. Contains three bed-chambers (10 x 14, 10 x 14, 8 x 9), well lighted, and each opening into the hall. Good closets in each. There is a step-ladder to an attic- loft. MATERIALS. Foundation, brick or stone ; basement under main walls ; First Story frame sheathed and clap- boarded ; shingled roof and gables. First Floor. Design No. 3. .Second Floor. Design No. 2. 373 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC UFB. PERSPECTIVE VIEW OF DESIGN NO. 3. ESI, MATED COST, $2400. This design is one which strikes all who see it as combining beauty and comfort in an unusual degree. When we consider the low cost at which it can be built, we feel that we may say that it is unexcelled in its way. The graceful porches, the shape of the bow-window at the end, and the effect produced by the projection of the second story in front, make a combination restful to the eye. The hall of this beautiful residence is as large as a room in itself, allowing of its teing so used, and adding much to the beauvy of the arrangement. All the designs furnished in this chapter have great advantages by reason of their simplicity and cheapness. A vast amount of money can be spent in the construction of a dwelling, and on account of ignorance srA inexperience results far more unsatisfactory may follow than might be obtaine^by^a smaller outlay of money, provided common sense accompanies your building operations. Most persons are over ambitious when they build a house. Their ideas are larger than their purses. They want an edifice that shall throw all others in the neighborhood " into the shade." Or they want some won derful design for their dwelling different from anything ever thought of before "in heaven above or in the earth beneath.'* Thus they often perpetrate a dismal failure. And where men have plenty of money to build with, it is often painful to witness theii agony to obtain a grand edifice, squandering thousands of dollars on their fine housr , when a more judicious expenditure would K much more to their credit and sense. Tht spirit of the times might be expressed by saying get rich, put up a palace, and go into bankruptcy. HOUSE-BUILDING, OR HOW TO OBTAIN A HOME. First Story. From the hall, mentioned above, you enter on the right the parlor (13 x 14), which has three windows and a fireplace, the latter set across one corner of the room, a style of architecture which admits of a great improvement in the furnishing of the room. One of these corner fireplaces, built over with shelves for bric-a-brac, is a ;< thing of beauty." Opposite the hall en trance is the door to the library or sitting- room (15x17), with open fireplace and four windows, a spacious, well-lighted room. The dining-room (12x1 5), entered in the same way, is comfortable and pleasant, and also has the cheery, open fireplace. The kitchen (14x18), is a well- lighted pleasant room with large pantry. There is also a preserve closet and a china closet. , O First Floor. Design No. 3. Seond Floor. Design No. 3. Second Story. Contains four nice, airy, comfortable chambers (12.6x14, 12.6x14, 12x15, 1 2.6 xi 8), each with a closet large enough to delight the housekeeper's heart, and two of them having the " cosy corner" formed by half of the bow. A bath and toilet-room opens from the hall. There is an attic above for the storage of goods. MATERIALS. Foundation, stone or brick piers; First Story sheathed and clapboarded; Second Story shingled 1 roof shingled. Frame construction. Special note should be taken of the wide, comfortable porch around two sides and part of the third side of the house, adding much to its general ap pearance. This house has given univei sal satisfaction wherever built. COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. HOUSE-BUILDING, OR HOW TO OBTAIN A HOME. 275 Ceilings, 9 feet; sef oi. brick piers 7 feet aigh; no cellar; na attic; width, 34 feet; ^lepth, 62 feet; foundation, brick; a 5000 gallon tank and a cold storage-room, with mine-inch walls lined with sawdust; first story clapboarded; second story shingled; ?oof shingled; latticed base. Ground Floor. Design No* 4. No house interior is more pleasant and convenient than one provided with one or more bay windows. Often it happens that rooms appear to be small and contracted; you have a singular impression of being chut up in a prisoner's cell. You should not turn your dwelling into a jail. Now, for such rooms a bay window is a complete remedy, and no one could understand what a differ ence such a window makes ex trpt by actual experiment It is almost like adding another room to the house. Ordinarily, where there is a bay window on the first story, the proportion of the house is better preserved, and is made more sym metrical by extending the projection to the story above. This is something to be. con sidered, because you want your house to look well, so that at first glance a stranger would exclaim, " What a pretty house!" Consid ering also the additional room obtained by the bay window, and the greater convenience afforded in looking out upon surroundings, you are fortunate if your plan and your means admit of this improvement. Second Floor. Design No. 4* COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. secure. The living room, of good size, has j a latticed stairway at the side. The parlor j is entered through an arch with portieres, j and from it a bedroom opens. The kitchep. ; Communicates with the living room through a butler's pantry and has another storage pantry beside. On the second floor are five bedrooms, all of good size, which are cut to 4 ft. 6 in. at the sides in the end rooms, but have dormers in these rooms as shown. This is a delightful house and is admired by all who see it. Interior decoration may carry out the general scheme and make a most beautiful summer home. Tlie large surface of the dwelling should not be object ed to by those who are fond of fresh^air. Having your house, you should know how to live in it Not only make your dwelling an acquisition to the neighborhood, but make yourself and family a desirable part of the community. Good Neighbors. The individual who will conduct a house or an establishment that is unpleasant, in jurious to health, or detrimental to the com munity, evinces a disregard for the courtesy that is due to his neighbors. The parents who allow children to annoy their neighbors, are always a most undesir able people to have in the vicinity. The people of a community who will deliberately turn horses, cattle and hogs into the street, entirely disregarding the fact that the animals are liable to do much damage to others, demonstrate a lack of regard for neigh bors which is inexcusable, and can only be explained on tlie ground that the habit is so common that they do not realize the injury they are doing. The fact that we accosted Mr. Smith politely, p,nd said pleasant things in his presence, was good so far as it went, but the further fact that we turned our cattle into the street, well knowing they were liable tc trample Mr. Smith's sidewalk to pieces, and break down his trees v demonstrates that, while we are very agreeable to his face, we care but little what we may do behind his back. First and Second Floors. Design No. 7. The code of etiquette should not aloutr apply among individuals when directly asso* ciated together. It should extend further. It should go out and permeate a neighbor hood. It should diffuse itself throughout & town. It should bind together the people of a State of a nation. It should be a rule of action among all nations. Already the evi dence of courtesy among nations begins to manifest itself. The International Congwss is based upon this principle. The idea of 282 COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE AND DOMESTIC LIFE. friendly association of the representatives of nations for mutual adjustment of differences, is the beginning of a recognition of the rights of each other. When we can rise superior to selfishness, when we are willing to consider the rights and the requirements of others, when we are governed by the gen erous spirit of doing unto others as we would they should do unto us, then we are directed by a power that will make an entire people is a whole, what the laws of etiquette deter- iiine they shall be individually, in their in tercourse with each other. Hints to Housekeepers. Never suffer your rooms to be littered, but keep your tables and chairs in their proper places. Rub your own tables, if you wish to be warm all day. Be regular in your accounts; it will secure your husband's esteem. If you have daughters, teach them all needlework, and to keep the family accounts. Love your own house better than your neighbor's. Keep no servants that have hangers-on. Ceep no more servants than you can employ. Dress modestly, but not fine, unless the world knows you can afford it. Insure your life, and you will sleep the better for it Never be tempted to buy what you do not want. Do not put too much money in your children's pockets on going to school ; it is sowing the seeds of prodigality. Look out for the deserving poor of your own neighborhood, and give them what you can spare. If you have a family, and are not very affluent, remember that a in a day is a groat a year. A gossip has no home and very fev friends. If you are rich, be liberal in your ex penses. Never write a letter when in a passion. Seldom venture on giving advice withou* being asked. In the morning think on what you are tc do in the day ; and, at night, think on what you have done. If you are ever so wise, there are many things on which you are ignorant Money got by industry is Heaven's gift. Do not leave that to be done to-morrow that conveniently may be done to-day. Good manners are best learned by keeping good company. Set your watch, every morning, by a good clock, and you will find a bad watch to go nearly as well as a good one. Good breeding requires that you be punc tual to your engagements. Never borrow of neighbors if it be possible to avoid it. It is better to buy what you need than to frequently borrow. There are a few things which a neighbor should never be expected to lend. Among these are fine- edged tools, delicate machinery, and any article liable to easily get out of order. The less business relations among neighbors, the better. Never fail to return, with thanks, any article borrowed, as soon as you have finished using it, and see that it is in as good or bettel condition than when you received it Articles of provisions which may be borrowed should be very promptly returned in larger quantity to pay interest, and better in quality if possible. In no way can a neighbor lose character more effectually in business dealing than by the petty meanness of borrowing and failing to pay, or by pay* ing with a poorer quality and less amount, BOOK III. CHAPTER XXL Healtny Dwellings. ^ /ELUNG-HOUSES and apartments should be ensured sufficient light and air and a moderate temperature. They should be dry, not damp. Pure, fresh air is of paramount importance in relation to the preservation of life and health, for only in a pure atmosphere can our blood be purified by respiration. About half a pint of air is inhaled with each respiration and as much exhaled. It is a sad fact that the dread of fresh air, under the name of "a cold draft," is so general, and especially that It is encouraged by some physicians. Cold drafts can be harmful only to overheated and perspiring persons. The statement, "I have taught a cold," very frequently serves to dis guise a variety of disease-producing causes which may justly be laid at the door of the speaker himself. Compliance with nature's demands always produces a feeling of agreeable relief. What a similar sensation accompanies the exhala tion of noxious matters from the lungs and gkin we can appreciate only when these pro cesses are interfered with. We should as Kttle think of consuming again the exhala tions of our skin and lungs as we would our own excretions. It would be equally absurd In the year 1848, during a severe storm, the captain of the steamer "Londonderry" confined his two hundred passengers in a hold which scarcely afforded them standing' room, and sealed the hatches. Forced to breathe again and again the same air, the miserable inmates soon found their situation intolerable, but contrived to force an exit only after seventy-two of their number had expired from suffocation. Nearly a century earlier a graphic descrip tion was given of the intense suffering of the one hundred and forty-six British soldiers confined in the Black Hole of Calcutta their profuse perspiration, their raging thirst, their labored breathing, their rapid heart- action, their starting eyes, their frenzied struggles to reach the two small windows, their agonizing cries for water and for air, the'r delirium, exhaustion, death. After ten hours of such scenes twenty-three only of the number were taken forth alive. These casualties were consequent simply upon the insufficiency of oxygen and the inability 01 an already saturated atmosphere to ab?c r t the exhalations of so many bodies. 284 HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRONG. Necessity of Ventilation. Frequent change of air by efficient ven tilation is not sufficiently practiced either on behalf of the sick or of the well, ^though abundance of fresh air is well known to l avor health, while its absence both causes ind aggravates disease. In. the L,eopoldstadt prison of Vienna, a building very badly ven tilated, the death-rate during a certain period was eighty-six per thousand, the large- number by far from lung diseases ; in the well-ventilated House of Correction in the same city the death-rate was only fourteen per thousand, and little more than half of these from lung complaints. The oxygen of the atmosphere is the most potent disinfectant of our bodies. In farm houses we often see bedrooms made use of as wardrobes as well as for sleeping purposes, dresses and clothing being suspended from the walls and ceiling. No more favorable means than this can be imagined for the collection and distribution of disease-germs ; and it is a fact that we often see epidemics of diphtheria, typhoid fever, and other in fectious diseases, spread with remarkable ra pidity arrong a farming population. Epidemic in Brooklyn. The great value of ventilation is forcibly illustrated by an occurrence observed in Brooklyn in the year 1885. During that year an epidemic of typhoid fever, limited in area to but a few blocks, broke out in the southern part of the city. Many died of it, but only those were fatally attacked who had been in the country during the preceding summer months. In the adjoining blocks, inhabited by a poorer class of people, who had remained in the city, no fatal cases oc curred. \ The reason for this partiality of the fever is easily learned. These well-to-do people, before leaving town, had closed up their houses almost hermetically. The gases which emanated from the sewer-pipes had become fixed, so to speak, during their ab sence, having no channel of escape, and even after the return of the occupants ventilation had not been well looked after. In these houses, consequently, the germs of disease had found a fertile soil for their development, attacking their victims with such vigor as to overwhelm them. The neighboring poor, however, had not been away, and their rooms had been constantly ventilated, so that disease germs found it hard to thrive there. Ventilation must be thorough and fre quent. It does not suffice to open the win dows a little at the top and a little at the, bottom, nor even to open but one of them fully. All in the room should be thrown wide open above and below, so that not only fresh air can come in, but the foul and viti ated air of the interior can escape. Th^ badly fitting doors and windows of their dwellings afford poor people better ventila tion, even in winter, than they are otherwise likely to enjoy, not a bad thing, upon the whole, if only the house is not situated upon ground too low and damp. How to Ventilate a House. It is wise to pursue two methods of venti lation conjointly. In the first place, as many windows and doors as possible should be thrown widely open for about an hour each evening before retiring, and again in the morning after the gentlemen have gone to business and the children to school. The draft thus created may bring in some dust to settle on the fine furniture, but this is easily removed ; and the fact remains that the foul air of the room has been dispelled, and with it all disease germs adhering to walls and hangings. Just as violent atmospheric dis- turbances are necessary, particularly to large cities, in order to dissipate the thick vapors HEALTHY DWELLINGS CHILDREN IN PERFECT HEALTH. constantly hovering about, so also must our followed, in the second place, by constantly houses be subjected to like violent measures admitting fresh air through windows kept of ventilation. A quieter method of ventilation is to be always a little open at top and bottom. This need not create any draft, but will simply 286 HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND JTRONG. promote continual interchange between the inner and the outer air. The same end may be attained by closing the shutters on fully opened windows. Noxious gases and vapors, dust and smoke, must, of course be guarded against. - Fumigation with aromatic compounds is 'of little value. It conceals disagreeable odors, but cannot change bad air for good- Deadly Water. The air and water which permeate the soil demand our careful consideration. They are supposed to exercise a strong influence upon epidemics of infectious diseases, like cholera and typhoid fever. In building a house, therefore, the condition of neighboring sewer age should be closely regarded. No surface water should be allowed to collect about the foundations. All cesspools should be situated as far from the house as possible, care being taken to place them on a lower level than the house; otherwise the soil surrounding the house will become saturated with effete matters and will afford a favorable nidus for the development of disease-germs. Wells must be very far removed from cesspools. Pettenkofer has shown that the daily ex cretions of an adult amount to about three pounds of solid and liquid matter. If no complete system of sewerage exists in a large city, his experience has taught him that hardly one-tenth of these effete products is actually removed. The other nine-tenths decompose and filter into the ground, the more so, the lower and damper the locality. This has been illustrated numberless times by the circumstances attending the spread of epidemics of cholera and other infectious diseases. On high, dry, and rocky ground these diseases are very rarely encountered. Sandy ground may also be held to afford a healthy foundation, since it prevents decom position of contained matters. Senator and Flugge have found that one volume of sand will absorb and hold two hundred and fifty volumes of sewage. Natural Filter. Koch, however, modified PettenkoferV view by showing that the ground serves also as a filter, the bacteria remaining for the greater part in the upper layers, while the purified liquids descend to lower levels. From the surface of the ground these germs are washed almost completely away, either by water flowing over the surface, or by showers of rain, and collecting in streams and wells, originate through drinking-water a new source of infection. Hence a gradual, but constant decrease in mortality followed the introduction of sewerage into Munich, the classical typhoid city of Europe, aru? into Calcutta, the breeding-place of cholera. Upon the development of tuberculosis, too, the purification of the ground exercises a retarding influence, for since the draining of the site of Munich and since the intro duction of a pure water supply into thai city, the mortality of consumption has di minished by a full third. From a bacteriological point of view, ad mixture of sewage with a water can be injurious only when that sewage contains noxious bacteria. If, through any process, the sewage be freed from such bacteria, it, will be deprived of all bacteric infectious qualities. Germs of Disease. Trie most common natural process by which sewage is freed of bacteria is filtration through the soil. If all the bacteria are re moved, the sewage can contain no death- dealing species, but if they are not all removed and the sewage passes into a water supply, the latter will be in danger of in fectious contamination so soon as the sewage contains disease-producing bacteria. HEALTHY DWELLINGS. 287 A veritable pest-hole exists in the cellar of many a house otherwise healthily construc ted. When dark and damp, as so often is the case, and especially when made the reposi tory of fuel, ashes, refuse and decaying vegetables and fruit, it furnishes a most favorable spot for the propagation of noxious germs. As a matter of fact, no part of the house -demands more frequent inspection or more thorough airing. Its air is constantly passing, through the floors as well as by way of chimney-flues and air-shafts, to the apart ments above, and, unless constantly renewed, carries with :t all manner of deadly influ ences. The supreme sanitary importance of the removal of all sewage in order to prevent the development of disease germs is self- evident. Several systems have been pro posed for this purpose. Among them we note the barrel system ; the pumping system, which is in general use in France and Bel gium, and which is quicker and safer than the barrel system ; the sewer system, which is best as put in practice in Berlin. By means of large pumps the sewage is raised from the sewers and poured over a large tract of land, upon which it spreads, and from which it runs off, after depositing its excre- mentitious matters. Although it has been in operation only a few years, this system has proved remunerative, the farmers con senting to pay good prices for the offal thus collected. In this way matters usually found injurious by the inhabitants of other cities are turned to account by the people of Berlin. Prevention of Sickness. Where the removal of excrement cannot be accomplished systematically and thor oughly, care must be taken in regard to the arrangement and disposition of the closets, particularly with a view to the condition of the ground. Decomposition progresses very rapidly, and the gases and exhalations pro duced are often repulsive in the extreme. Gases spread very readily underground, as has been repeatedly seen in cases where illuminating gas, escaping from the mains, has entered cellars, basements, and even higher floors of houses. In some of these no gas-pipes or fixtures existed at all, and still the inmates fell sick from inhaling gas because a gas-main in the neighborhood had burst The principal hygienic rules to be observed in the interest of domestic disinfection are the following : The great danger of sewer gases entering our dwelling houses is best averted by opening a connection between the sewer pipes and a chimney. This furnishes an exit for the gases generated in these pipes, gases whose lightness tends to force them upward, and which escape the more readily if a fire is burning in the range or fire-place below. By this means the offending gases are either destroyed by fire and smoke within the chimney, or else are dissipated over the roof without finding an opportunity to cause sickness. The pipe must not enter the chimney upon a lower floor than another opening, nor even in its immediate vicinity. Noxious Gases. Among the most dangerous appliances is a modern house are the stationary washbowls and the bath-rooms in its upper stories. Traps are wholly insufficient for their in tended purpose. A better way of keeping gases out of the room, aside from the ar rangement detailed above, consists in closing the drain-hole at the bottom of a tub or basin so as to keep water always standing there. George E. Waring, Jr., in his article on " Drainage and Sewerage," makes the fol lowing remarks ; " Running water confined with a narrow channel, and so compelled to HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRONG. move with force sufficient to give an ener getic scouring to the walls of its conduit, may be trusted to carry with it or to drive before it pretty nearly all foreign matter that may have been contributed to it ; but the moment this vigorous current is checked, that moment the tendency to excessive de- oosit begins. " It is checked in practice in various ways : first, by too great a diameter of the pipe ; second, by the use of traps larger than the pipes leading to them and from them, thus increasing the natural tendency of all traps to stagnation and deposit; third, by the use of vertical water-pipes, which are almost universal and which are very often necessary. The velocity of a current, measured along the axis of the pipe, is less, if the direction is vertical, than if it is laid on a steep slope, because of the tendency of liquids flowing through vertical pipes, which they do not fill, to adhere to the walls and to travel with a rotary movement. This latter point is rather one of curious interest than of prac tical value." Bad Drainage. " However defective may be the condition of an iron soil-pipe, vertical or horizontal, it is perfection itself compared with the usual state of a drain laid under the cellar floor. Under all circumstances, at least in all work hitherto executed, one should de mand as absolutely necessary that the drains under the cellar floor be removed, that the earth which has been fouled by the leakage of its joints and its breaks shall be taken out to the clean, untainted soil below, and refilled with well-rammed, pure earth or with concrete, the drainage being carried through a properly-jointed iron pipe above the pavement, and preferably with a fall from the ceiling of the cellar to near the at the point of outlet. " It sometimes happens that the necessity for using laundry-tubs or other vessels in the cellar makes the retention of an under ground course imperative. When retained, the drain should be of heavy cast iron, with securely leaded joints, tested under a head of several feet. When found to be tight and secure, it should not be, as ordin arily recommended, left in an open channel covered with boards or flags and surrounded by a vermin-breeding, unventilatcd, and un inspected space, but closely and completely imbedded in the best hydraulic cement mor tar. Its careful testing before this enclosure is of course the only condition under which the work should be permitted." Frightful Increase of Mortality. We would add, however, that the very best plan for securing freedom from sewei gas in the dwelling is to relegate the bath room and all pipes connected with the sewers to a small separate building, which may be connected with the house by means of a long covered passage. This passage must be thoroughly ventilated at all times, and the doors opening from either end must be kept constantly closed. Glazed stoneware or earthenware pipes are to be preferred for house-drains, and should be laid in well- puddled clay or in concrete, care being taken to have the joints well connected. To demonstrate the influence of sewer gas on the general health of a community, the returns of the Registrar-General of Great Britain are cited by several authors. In the year 1847 an order was issued to connect the privies in the city of London with the general sewerage system, thus creating a direct com munication between the rooms of c" the houses and the public drain. The mortality increased fourfold, as is shown by comparing the statistics of a number of years preceding 1847 with those of a series of years following. HEALTHY DWELLINGS. 289 1'his inciease, or at least a large part of It, can be traced directly to the effects of sewer gas, and to the poisoning of the well water, particularly to the former. Earth Closets. Where earth closets take the place of sew ers, a shovelful of earth should be thrown over each dejection. The best earth for the purpose consists of dry clay, two parts, and loam, one part. Dry mould or coal-ash liftings may also be used. Green vitriol should be thrown in when an epidemic is threatened or very hot weather prevails. Disinfection is to be accomplished by means of antiseptics, notably fire, boiling water, chloride of lime in so lution, corrosive sublimate, sulphurous acid, green and blue vitriol, carbolic acid, chloride of zinc, the mineral acids, and chlorine. It is best to use one of the first four mentioned, following it up with one of the others. Carbolic acid Koch has found capable of stopping the de velopment of micro-organisms when diluted with four hundred parts of water, and cor rosive sublimate in a solution of the strength of one to three hundred thousand. The former, a product of coal-tar, is a clear, color less, oily liquid, which blisters the skin severely in a few moments, is extremely poisonous, and rapidly proves fatal. The fact is to be noted that pure carbolic acid is not so good a disinfectant, and does not destroy bacteria with the same certainty, as when diluted with water ; and, farther- more, that it displays its disinfecting proper ties to best advantage when in combination with water in the proportion of ten parts in the hundred. Corrosive sublimate in concentrated form is also a violent poison, and it may be reck oned a great blessing to mankind that it suffices to destroy bacterial life in so attenu ated a solution as to threaten no danger to 19 the human organism. A sublimate solution of one in five thousand, which will infallibly destroy bacilli, and which fully suffices for most purposes of disinfection, is nevertheless, less poisonous than a five per cent, carbolic solution. In many hospitals a trial of other disinfectants, such as boric and salicylic acids, creolin, thymol, and salol, has resulted only, when a thorough destruction of micro organisms was demanded, in a return to one of these two principal agents. To Disinfect Clothing. Articles to be disinfected must be spread out, not left packed up in a bundle. Corro sive sublimate attacks most metals in common use, and must therefore not be poured into leaden pipes. A concentrated solution of corrosive sublimate contains four ounces of the chemical in a gallon of water. By adding ten grains of permanganate of potash or a pound of blue vitriol the solution is colored and rendered recognizable. This solution should be left to act for about two hours. Boiling water takes effect in thirty minutes. Sulphurous acid is most efficacious in damp air. It is always harmful to live for any length of time in rooms that are damp or cold, rooms having walls dripping with dampness or floors wet from scrubbing, and rooms where clothes are hung to dry. The more moisture the air contains, the less capable is it of absorbing the vapors of our breath and with them the disease-germs we sometimes exhale. These are then partially retained, and impede the inhalation of nre air rich in oxygen, Lungs and Skin. This interference with evaporation from the lungs and skin is very hurtful It renders difficult the cooling-off process which out bodies constantly require, it almost arrests 290 HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRONG. and quite neutralizes the activity of our skin, and interferes with the purification of the blood. The best proof of these statements is found in the distressing influence of so- called " muggy weather, " when the tem perature of the air is not excessive, but the humidity of the atmosphere is considerable. Dry heat at from ninety to one hundred degrees Fahrenheit is easier borne than tem peratures below ninety degrees when the humidity is at the point of saturation. Damp air which is at the same time cold is more objectionable than damp warm air. On the other hand very dry air in living- rooms is very unhealthy. This condition is particularly found in rooms heated by steam, by hot water pipes, or in those heated by means of a furnace, a heater, or even a com mon stove. A vessel containing water should be kept in every such room upon the stove or near the register. The air heated by a furnace should pass over water before entering the room. Location of the House. Its situation is a most important factor in the choice of a dwelling. The climate, the direction in which it faces, its altitude, its location upon a hill-side or in a valley, the neighboring rivers, ponds, lakes, swamps, and marshes, whether upon dry, sandy, or rocky soil, all these features are to be con sidered. The severity of the sun's rays, the prevailing direction of the wind, temper ature, and humidity vary in different locali ties. Rooms facing south are warmer, but subject to greater changes of temperature ; those facing north are cooler, but preserve a more equable temperature. Houses situated in deep forests or lying between dense clumps of large trees are apt to be unhealthy from dampness. But a wood at some dis tance from the house is an advantage, since it furnishes abundance of oxygen besides protection from high winds and excessive heat. It is best not to live near a factory, mine, or hospital, since injurious gases, vapors' and dust particles may be developed there. Swamps and marshes, too, are bad neighbors, for the humid air is often vitiated by the emanations of decomposing animal and vegetable matter. These are very imhealthy. often causing marsh fever, malaria, and other ailments. In tropical and sub-tropical re gions, where cold northern winds are unfelt, such swamps may be rendered harmless by planting eucalyptus trees in their vicinity; and sun-flowers, in the temperate zone, may be made to serve a similar purpose in some degree, especially when planted in large numbers. Substitute for Carpets. The carpets of a house claim a special men tion from us. The plan of carpeting floors to which we are accustomed is a decidedly unhealthy one. When the carpets are nailed to the floor in such a way that every portion is covered, the dust which settles upon them can be only partially removed by sweeping, and accumulates in increasing quantity upon the planking below as well as in the meshes of the carpet itself. This dust, continually raised by every footstep, inevitably renders the air unhealthy ; and the evil is increased by the layers of thick paper and cotton wad ding usually interposed between the floor and the carpet by way of lining. The floor should be inlaid, or at any rate laid in hard woods, and should be frequently polished with wax. One large carpet is used to cover the greater part of the room f or perhaps rugs are spread in different places, beneath tables, and before sofas, pianos, book cases, and other articles of furniture, much as we are accustomed to lay them upon our carpets. This insures much greater cleanli ness and a remarkable absence of dust. CHAPTER XXII. Importance of Exercise. OTHING need be said concerning 1 the value of sound health. It is the condition on which all success in .ife depends. A weak, dyspeptic, nerveless, draggy, pale, puny man in any business or profession ! He is a dismal failure from the start. A sound mind in a sound body is the first requisite for making the most of yourself and your pursuit. Doctor Mo >ell Mackenzie is the physician of the royal family of England and other royal households of Europe, and is a high authority on everything pertaining to health. Here is what he says upon the necessity of proper exercise : In the child the physiological craving for movement shows itself with the unrestrained freedom of the natural animal. If a healthy baby is allowed to have free play for its limbs it will go through a series of impro vised acrobatic performances, twisting its limbs and turning them into knots that might excite the envy of a nrofessional " con tortionist." It is an excellent plan to give an infant perfect muscular freedom for some time every day ; it should be discumbered of any superfluous clothing and laid on a rug or some soft material on the floor and allowed to kick and throw itself about to its heart's content. On the general principle, appar ently, that every natural tendency is a prompting of the evil spirit, it used to be the universal custom to restrain the move ments of infants' limbs by swathing them in innumerable bandages as if they were diminutive mummies. With the eager life within them thus "cabin'd, cribbed, con* fined," the poor little things must have beec mere bundles of helpless misery, and in man)' cases must have been dwarfed in the growth, if not deformed. The more enlightened among the doctors fulminated against the practice for centuries, but in that as in most other things medical wisdom cried in the street and no man re garded it. It needed the genius of Rousseau to persuade the more civilized part of the world of the senseless cruelty of tight swadd ling clothes, and even at this day his teach ing has not entirely prevailed even in his own country. Any traveler in Italy and Spain can see for himself that the The exercises on the single bar, and on the parallel bars, are excellent for strengthening the muscles of the body. Make your parallel bars ten or twelve feet in length, each set firmly on two posts, and from 27 to 35 inches apart. For the single bar erect two posts six feet apart. Mortise a groove in each post, bore holes through the sides of the post into the groove, and also a hole through each end of the bar. Then with an iron bolt you can raise or lower the bar as you like. Raise the body by placing the hands on the bars ; then swing forward and backward ; bend the arms and lower the body as you swing forward, then straighten them. The latter position is seen in the above figure, 2 9 I HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRONG. master is not abroad as regards infantile hygiene. One effect of the " trussing" of the limbs in infancy may be observed in the crowds of cripples and misshapen creatures that one sees round the doors of churches in Europe. Nothing strikes the "intelligent foreigner" in England more than the iiigh standard of Hang upon the bars, as shown in the figure, and ywing the body backward and forward ; do not strain ihe muscles of the arms and chest physical development and the comparative rarity of deformity in the bulk of the popu lation. When staying at hotels abroad I have often noticed the admiration aroused among the natives by the superior size and strength of my juvenile countrymen,, One reason of this excellence of physique un doubtedly is that the British baby is from the first allowed an amount of liberty in the use of his limbs befitting the future citizen of a free country. As the child grows older the boisterousness with which it romps may be taken as a pretty sure index of its state of health. Mr. Her bert Spencer speaks with a sympathetic in sight which was hardly to be expected from a philosopher and, moreover, I believe I may add a bachelor of the torture which it is to a healthy child to " sit still." Wordsworth is a physiologist as well as a poet when he says that a child " feels its life in every limb." But by long-continued confinement and re straint that is, by being made to live under totally unnatural conditions this wholesome exuberance of vitality may be lost and give place to listlessness and even positive dislike of play. Good Animals, First of All. In our devouring zeal for the gospel of the three R's ("'readin', 'ritin' and 'rithmetic") we are apt to forget that, as Mr. Herbert Spencer puts it, " the first requisite for suc cess in life is to be a good animal." This is a much more important matter both for the present rising generation and for the future of our race than the precocious passing of "examinations." To my mind the physical education of our children is one of the most Place your hands on the ends of the bars, and swing the body forward and backward, bending the arms ana elevating the legs, as seen in the figure. urgent questions of the day, and it is one which might well engage the attention of our legislators. If a small fraction of the attention that is given to the rearing of cattle were given to the bringing up of children Walt Whit man's prophetic vision of a nation of "sixty millions of magnificent persons" would be be in a fair way of being realized. We IMPORTANCE OF EXERCISE. 293 HEALTHFyL SPORTS, 294 HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRONG. have a Minister of Agriculture whose duty it is to see that the four-footed Common wealth sustains no detriment ; why should there not be a Minister of Hominiculture charged with the development of the national resources in respect of that not altogether Swing the body between the bars ; when you come ftito the position shown in the figure spring sidewise over the bar, alighting on the feet. It requires agility to do this, but agility is what you are seeking. valueless product, man? The "perfectibil ity" of the human race depends much more on physical than on mental culture, for in tellect, energy of will, and strength of moral fibre are largely dependent on sound bodily health. How then are children to be made "good animals?" By the fullest possible develop, ment of their bodily powers. How is this development to be compassed? Adapting Danton's famous saying, I answer, by exer cise, by exercise, and yet again by exercise. There can be no dispute about this ; the only question is as to the form and amount of the exercise. The period of childhood may be taken as extending from the age of two or three years up to puberty. Now what is wanted at this stage is not so much the ac quisition of muscular strength or skill as a solid foundation of general health. In child hood exercise should be almost exclusively general or hygienic ; the less purely local or athletic exercise a growing child has the bet ter it will be not only for its constitution, but for its future muscular development. Very young children should be encouraged to run about, to trundle hoops, or if at the seaside, to build castles, etc., on the sand ir short, to play and romp instead of dawdling and always hanging upon a nurse. The Kindergarten. Walking about with a nursemaid car! hardly be amusing and may be extremely fatiguing to her little charges. Cut them loose and let them romp. In the way of systematic exercise for young children there is nothing better than the kindergarten movements ; the fact that they are done in company with other children and often to the accompaniment of song assimilates these little drills to games and lessens the danger Suspend the body as shown in the tigure; then raise the body by straightening the arms ; repeat only five or six times. of their being looked upon as tasks. Fo.?, older children no methodical exercise, how ever scientifically arranged, can compare with the boisterous outdoor games which bring every muscle into play, lash the heart into a gallop, and make the vital bellows the lungs blow the fire of life into a glow. IMPORTANCE OF EXERCISE. 295 The excitement of the game is what doctors would call its "active principle," for gladness is the best of all tonics. Even the shouting, however it may vex the ears of the old fogys, is in itself an important element in the exercise, as it brings the lungs and the muscles of the chest and throat into vigorous action. Better than some 'Ologies. It is a melancholy fact, however, that, as Mr. Walter Besant pointed out some years ago, neither children nor young people really know how to play. In France games have almost fallen into oblivion, even among the Swing the body between the bars a few times ; then let go the hands and throw the body forward, alighting on the feet. children of the well-to-do. In Belgium some years ago open-air games had become a lost art, and a movement was set on foot by some enlightened educational reformers to teach children to play. The result is that the children are "straighter, stronger and and more gay" the last point being, even as regards health, just as important as the Others. In the United States physical cul ture is also beginning to be made a part of the ordinary school curriculum. At Boston, Dr. Edward M. Hartwell has been appointed Doctor of Physical Training in the public schools at a salary of $3000 a year, and the lyings or Swedish system of exercises is being introduced into many American schools. Muscular drill is not quite the same thing as games, but, as Sil Thomas More, said, "Marry, it is somewhat." I believe it would add immensely to the use- Suspend the body under the bars ; then, keeping the legs straight, turn a summersault, alighting on the feet. This is not so difficult a movement as it appears to be. fulness of board schools as nurseries of effi cient citizens, if, as is the case in the public schools of Belgium, their teaching staff in cluded a professor of games. It would be no loss to the community if a few of the 'ologies with which the brains of poor starvelings are at the present forced into premature ex haustion were sacrificed to make room for Suspend yourself as shown in the figure ; then lowe: and raise the body, keeping the legs in a horizontal position. the sound physical and moral training sup plied by well-ordered play. Among the upper classes, thanks to the somewhat excessive precautions against " overpressure " taken in our public schools 296 HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRONG. and universities, the youth of this country give at least as much time and attention to the cultivation of their muscles as to that of their brains. It is this early physical train- Stand between the bars, and, placing a hand on each bar, swing the body over one, as seen in the figure, then over the other ; repeat ten times. ing that makes the members of that class of society politely termed "barbarians" by Matthew Arnold as superior in body as they are often inferior in mind to those who have to bear the yoke of life from their childhood. Swing the body between the bars, then turn the body so as to bring one leg over the bar, as shown in the figure ; then alternate, and bring the other leg over the other bar. Manly Sports. Parents are sometimes unwilling to allow their children to share in the games of their oompanions especially football from fear of accidents. On this subject I cannot do better than quote the words of Dr. Clement Dukes, whose medical experience of school boys as physician to Rugby for many years is probably unrivalled. "If," he says, with regard to football, " twenty years' experience at the very birth place of this much-abused game, played three or four times every week in the winter and very warm games sometimes, owing to the rivalry between houses for the glory of being * cock house ' counts for anything, it ought to make parents and doctors consider the matter more thoughtfully. I have never yet had one serious accident from football no accident more severe than I have had from Place the legs over the bars and lower the part of the body ; clasp the bars with your hands and turn a summersault. cricket, house runs, steeplechases, swimming baths, gymnasiums and, above all, by-play. If the game were always played by boys, the outcry against football must cease." With regard to girls, I agree with Mrs. Garrett Anderson that, with one or two ex ceptions (among which I should certainly number football, cricket and baseball) they can play at the same games as boys, and they should be encouraged, and, unless physically unfit, compelled to do so. Gymnastics should not, I think, be attempted by girls before th age of twelve or thereabouts, and then the) should be carefully adapted to the child'/ powers, and should be pursued under thf supervision of an experienced medical adviser IMPORTANCE OF 297 Marching and wheeling, practiced with light dumb bells and staves, etc., especially if the maneuvers are gone through to the accom paniment of music, are particularly suited to young girls. They give grace and precision to the movements while developing the strength. Benefit of Gymnastics. Adolescence extends from puberty (about fourteen) to twenty-three or thereabouts. Strictly speaking, it reaches to twenty-five, as the growth cannot be considered complete till then. There are two easily distinguish able periods in adolescence, the first of which is what may be called the maturity of boy hood, while the second is the dawn of man hood. In the former the conditions and Stand between the bars, place the hands on the ends of the bars, then swing the body forward and back ward, finally throwing the legs over the bars, as shown in the figure. limitations of exercise are much the same as for the prepuberty period. They resolve themselves into this plenty of exercise, no training. While the body is in active growth all the vital energy seems concentrated on the pro cess of development. There is no storing up of reserve force as in adult life ; every atom of material is immediately used up in meet ing the wants of the growing organism. Exercise, whether in games or in gymnastic maneuvers, is useful, as helping- the due performance of the vital functions, but any thing like fatigue is most injurious. In estimating the dangers of any particulai kind of exercise it is *::>t the giants, but the ordinary sons of men who form the bases of any general formula. The weaker lads are often tall, growth having outrun general development, and in their case violent and Place the body in a straight position, as seen in thts figure ; then walk on the hands forward and backward over the whole length of the bars, placing the hands alternately fonpard or backward. prolonged muscular exercise should not be permitted till the frame is sufficiently con- solidated to bear the expenditure of nervous and vital energy which it entails. From twenty to thirty it matters little what kind of exercise is taken, so long as it is sufficient without being excessive. For men who live in towns it is often very important to obtain the maximum amount of exercise in a rela* tively short time, and in such cases a gallop for an hour or even three-quarters of an hour answers the purpose well. Fencing, how ever, is perhaps the most effective form of concentrated exercise, but it has the disad- 298 HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRONG. vantage of exercising the right side of the body much more than the left, and thus in some cases producing a slight deviation from perfect symmetry. Value of Kowing. , Rowing, or rather sculling, is perhaps the most perfect form of exercise for young men and girls, for nearly all the muscles of the body are brought into play, with the excep tion of those passing from the front of the chest to the arm. In young persons with a tendency to phthisis or asthma I have many Place yourself on the bars as in the figure, then loosen the hold of the hands and spring forward a few inches, thus moving from one end of the bars to the other. times seen sculling effect a complete cure. During the period of adolescence gymnastics under a competent instructor are often of the most signal service, especially to young people who are naturally awkward or other wise physically backward. I need not dwell on the necessity of ex ercise for women further than to say that competent authorities look upon it as the best safeguard against certain diseases pecu liar to their sex, the enormous prevalence of which at the present day is no doubt in great measure due to the physical indolence which many of them have been taught to consider as a grace rather than a defect I bad almost said a vice. In view of this it is a sign of the times that the Ladies 1 Berkeley Athletic Club, in New York, be* came a flourishing " institution " in one year. I may say here that I think it is a mistake for women to aim directly at the development of muscle. The Venus of Milo ; not the half masculine Amazon, must alway be the type of physical perfection for ther^ Their exercise should there-fore be chiefly hygienic rather than athletic. Sports for Girls. A great French anatomist, Cruveilhier, was ungallant enough to say that whatever women might learn to do they never could succeed in running gracefully. Cando* compels me to say that I think the indict? Place the hands on the bar, and raise and lower the body, bringing the bar across the chest ; repeat only 3 few times. ment true, but that and throwing the bal, are about the only things which they can* not do with twice the grace and nearly all the strength of men. One cannot expect under the storm and stress of active life to maintain his " condi tion ; " he must be satisfied with having laid IMPORTANCE OF EXERCISE. 299 A foundation of physical strength which will make his subsequent life happier, longer and more useful than it would otherwise have been. His delight in and capacity for most forms of exercise will continue unabated for many years past the age (46) fixed by j the Romans as the limit of enlistment. Those 'requiring elasticity of the bones will be Clasping the bar with both hands, swing forward and backwardjbringing the bar on the return movement level with the breast, as indicated in the figure. given up first ; foot ball is a dangerous ana chronism after five and twenty. Those call ing for swiftness of foot will be surrendered next, and the sacrifice is made easier by in creasing height of body and stiffness of limb. In the borderland between youth and middle age many men are apt to exceed in the matter of exercise, possibly from unwilling ness to acknowledge that cruel time is begin ning to cloy them. On the other hand, those on whom middle age has stamped its mark, whose " wind " is like woman's love, as described by Hamlet, and whose waistcoat is beginning to yield to circumstances, have, as it were, to be driven to the stake of phys ical exertion. How Much Exercise? The amount and kind of exercise required by people between forty and fifty depends largely on individual peculiarities. There are, however, certain definite standards by which the amount of physical work done in different kinds of exercise can be accurately estimated. It is calculated that an ordinary laborer does work which is the equivalent ot lifting from three hundred to four hundred tons one foot in a working day, and Pro fessor Haughton reckons that a man walk ing on a nearly level surface at the rate of about three miles an hour expends as much, force as would raise one-twentieth part of the weight of his body through the distance walked. Now supposing a man weighs 160 pounds, in his clothes, in walking a mile he would raise eight pounds one mile ; if he walked six miles at the same rate he would have raised 113 tons one foot. This would represent a fair standard of exercise for a healthy man of fifty years of age ; if younger he should do rather more, if older he might do less. Placing the hands on thj bar, swing the then over, the bar ; repeat five or six time or six times. I have already pointed out that riding is an excellent " pemmican " or concentrated essence of exercise, but it is especially in middle life that Sydenham's aphorism holds, that the outside of a horse is the best thing for the inside of a man. Steady going, how ever, ought to be the rule, and a bishop's cob is the ideal mount after fifty, except in the case of hunting men, who are always a.t home in the saddle. 30O HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRONG. Dr. Holmes' Pithy Saying 1 . Oliver Wendell Holmes, who, it must not be forgotten, is a doctor, and even an ex-pro fessor of anatomy, as well as a charming writer, speaks with almost Pindaric enthus iasm of riding, during which the liver "goes up and down like the dasher of a churn in the midst of the other vital arrangements," With the arms behind the back, clasp the bar with the hands, then swing the body forward and backward into a horizontal position. while "the brains also are shaken up like coppers in a money-box." Perhaps the mutual collision of brain cells and "higher centers" may be as stimulating to the intel lect as the "shock of minds" in debate. For those who cannot afford horse exercise there is the tricycle, which, as a means of exercise for the middle-aged, has a great future before it Dr. Oscar Jennings, an English physi cian, practicing in Paris, has written a book, in which he tells how he diminished his cir cumference, which was beginning to give signs of Falstaffian possibilities, and evicted a host of infirmities by cycling alone with out any other forms of exercise. Then there is golf, an ideal game, but with writers like Arthur Balfour and Mr. Andrew Lang to hymn its praises it needs no additional praise. A great amount of walking is in volved in this game. To sum up, middle-aged people between, say, thirty-five and fifty-five or sixty, should ride a cycle one hour or walk two nour* every day. These exercises may be varied, if the opportunity offers, by rowing or fencing, but I do not, as a rule, recommend to prac tice swimming after forty. I cannot conclude my remarks on middle age without an emphatic word of warning as to the mistake that is often made by men who rush off to some foreign country after a year ot exhausting brain work, insufficient exercise and too probably over-feeding, and straightway proceed to climb the first hillside they come to or take long fatiguing walks. Suspend yourself as shown in the figure, then i-aisc the body until your head touches the bar ; repeat onlv a few times. thus passing at once from a long period of repose to violent exertion, with muscles flabby from disuse and a heart utterly unpre pared for any sudden call. Can we wonder at the result that often follows? For those over forty-five there can be no doubt that the best view of a mountain is from its foot Or if they climb, it should be very slowK with frequent stops for rest . LE'ZETORA, Colored Lady Athlete Heavy Weight Act. FINE; SPECIMEN OF PHYSICAL DEVELOPMENT, PETER JACKSON, ATHLETE. CHAPTER XXItt, How to Strengthen the Muscles. 7ERYONE admits that it is wiser and better to prevent an evil, while it is in oryj's power to do so, than to remedy it afterwards. It is better tc avert disease by appropriate means than first to induce h and then attempt to cure it Even if, for the preservation of health, some sacri fice of habits and tastes should be found necessary, surely this would not be too high a price for the undisturbed enjoyment of a blessing, the absence of which diminishes the value of all other good things in life ! It is a generally known and recognized rule for the preservation of health that one should " take a walk " every day. This is, no doubt, beneficial to health. Still, expe rience shows us that walking is not the in fallible and all-sufficient means it is supposed to be ; for a great many most eager and con scientious walkers are both weak and ailing, and become worse and worse in spite of their walks. By this we do not mean to say that the walking is the cause of their debility and sickliness, but that this form of exercise does not fulfil all the conditions required for exer cise aiming at the prevention or cure of disease. To serve this purpose the exercises used must be estimated and defined beforehand as to their energy, extent and physiological effects, and chosen accordingly. But in ordi nary walking, or in riding, driving, rowing, etc., the effects are more or less one-sided and vague. The same defect is also to be found in most forms of labor belonging to the dif ferent trades and professions, though, of course, varying according as these vary. For there is this essential difference between gienic gymnastic movements and thost occurring in actual labor, that the former, having as their sole aim the promotion of a normal development and action in the human individual, both the position from which the movement starts and the manner in which it is performed are entirely calculated to sub serve this aim, whereas ordinary labor exacts such attitudes and movements as will best suit the work, even if these should happen to be ever so much inimical to health. The consequence of this is that the more or less one-sided action belonging to most forms of daily occupation in the long run disturbs the harmony of the body, so that even working men often are greatly in need of systematic gymnastic exercises to counter act the one-sided influence to which their frame has been subjected in their occupation ; how much more, then, persons leading a sedentary life, and having essentially mental occupations ? It is an undeniable fact that suitable bod ily exercise (together with good food, fresh air, and bathing) is the most important means for the preservation of health. A fire can be kept up by fuel and a free supply of air ; an engine can continue work ing as long as it is provided with sufficient steam-power, and withal kept in a normal state. Now, though the living organism does not bear any essential resemblance to these things, still it should be borne in mind that physical life might continue, without illness, up to old age, if the conditions 01; which it depends were completely fulfilled 301 *O2 HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRONG. A YOUNG ATHLETE TAKEN FROM LIFE. The living organism is absolutely distin guished from a machine by the power of regulating for itself the continual production of the amount of heat necessary to its func tions, and also of determining and directing its own movements. Heat, motion, and also mental work are dependent on the nutritive meaner -pure air and proper food ; but it is through the action of the various organs that the nutritive material undergoes the changes by means of which it can fulfil the conditions indispensa ble to the sustenance of the vital forces heat, motion, and mental action. HOW TO STRENGTHEN THE MUSCLES- Now, it has been proved beyond doubt chat, through bodily exercise, the organs may be stimulated to more powerful action, to more abundant absorption of nutriment, in consequence of which both bodily and mental faculties gain in energy and health ; for health is preserved through the energetic -ind regular activity of the organs, and a dis ease is cured if the disordered action of the organs, accompanying it, is brought back to a normal state. The influence of movements on the human organism, as a whole, will be more clearly un derstood by the following remarks on its effects on the functions of the various organs. All parts of the body draw from the blood the material necessary for their development, and the repair of the waste constantly going on within them in producing the forces characteristic of living beings. It follows from this, that new material must constantly be taken up into the blood, instead of that used up by the organism, or else the compo sition of the blood will be disturbed, thus rendering it unfit for the proper nutrition of the body. The blood is, in this respect, like a bank, which subsists through equilibrium between expenditure and income. An ener getic and normal circulation promotes within the blood increased expenditure as well as increased income that is to say, the active and normal exchange of matter and the active and normal renewal and revivifying thus effected in the material of which our body is composed, is health. .- The heart is the organ which maintains the circulation of the blood, but bodily exer cise can most powerfully promote and regu late the circulation. Every one may ascer tain by himself that exercise drives the blood more forcibly to the skin for instance, as is seen in the raised color of the cheeks and the quickened pulse following muscular ex ertion. The increased heat felt, when taking brisk exercise, is also a proof of a quickened circulation and increased exchange of mater ial. Moreover, it is a well-known fact that exercise increases the appetite, which indi cates the want of new material for the blood. This is what actual experience has shown us as to bodily exercise accelerating the circula tion. But there are also the most convinc- With body erect and hands at sides, move the head to right and left, and forward and backward ; strength ens the muscles of the neck. With hands on the hips, move the upper part of the body to right and left, and forward and backward ; this strengthens the muscles of the chest and back. ing theoretical proofs that circulation is promoted by means of muscular exercise. Muscular contractions produce a pressure on the blood-vessels that penetrate or are contiguous to the active muscles. The effect of this pressure is somewhat different in arteries (vessels carrying blood from the heart) and in veins (vessels carrying blood to the heart), on account of the' difference in their walls, and in the arrangement of their valves. The arteries have walls endowed with great elasticity, and firmer than those of the veins ; hence the blood is under greater pressure in the arteries than in the veins, 304 HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRONG. The aorta (the great artery within the trunk) has three valves at its origin from the left ventricle of the heart, arranged so as to hin der the blood from flowing backwards to the heart This being so, muscular pressure may be said, rather to favor the flow of the Hlood towards the capillaries than otherwise. Close the hands, extend the arms in front as shown t>y the dotted lines, and bring the hands together behind the back ; repeat at least twenty times. This, however, has far less significance than the effect that muscular pressure has on the flow of the blood in the veins. The walls of the veins being softer, and having less elasticity than those of the arteries, they, consequently, exercise but little pressure on the blood. The contracting muscles, in squeezing the veins, impart additional motion to the blood. Now, there are pouch- like valves along the inside of the vein- walls, arranged in such a way that they prevent the blood from flowing backwards to the capillaries, but permit it to flow in the direction of the heart ; consequently, muscu lar pressure c[>n the veins must needs drive the blood forwards towards the heart. Nor is this all. By movements, such as bending, stretch ing, etc., the veins are alternately shortened and extended, and this alternate stretching of them acts with a kind of sucking force on the blood within. The outer wall of the veins adheres at certain places (especially near the joints) to over-lying tissues, and is raised by certain motions, so that the diame ter of the vessel becomes enlarged, a circum stance which also contributes to suck, as it were, the blood towards the heart. From these circumstances it is evident that muscular exercise greatly influences the cir culation, by assisting the flow of the venous blood towards the heart. In proportion as the movements are comprehensive, being applied to all parts of the body, and adapted to its strength, their effect on the circulation is more powerful. Stand erect, with arms straight at the sides ; raise and lower the arms as shown in the figure ; repeat at least twenty times. But it is also possible to regulate by move ments the supply of blood to each different organ, so as to produce special effects. Thus, undue affluence of blood to an organ where it may prove dangerous can be relieved by means of appropriate movements, so calcu lated as to carry the blood to parts where it causes no harm. HOW TO STRENGTHEN THE MUSCLES. 30$ This shows us the importance oi exercise for the preservation of health, and the necessity of a rational treatment by move ments in all its disturbances. From the great influence that muscular action has on the circulation comes the fact that appropriate movements are the most efficient curative means for diseases of the heart. In severe cases of heart disease the patient should always have recourse to a person qualified to give medical gymnastics, who will give him " passive " movements and such " active " movements as are calculated to draw the blood towards the periphery of the body without throwing any strain upon the heart Hold the right arm out horizontally, palm of hand Upward ; double tbe left arm, the tips of the fingers resting on the shoulder ; then stretch out the left arm, at the san>e time bringing the right arm to the position shown by the dotted lines ; repeat, and then make the movements with both arms simultaneously. The want of food announces itself, under normal circumstances, through hunger ; in sufficient nourishment manifests itself through emaciation ; and no one can live without food. These are well-known facts. It is also generally known that the food must undergo certain changes in the alimentary canal before it becomes fit to be taken up in 20 the blood and distributed for the maintenance of the organism. For the due and prompt production of these changes it is indispens able that the digestive organs should be in a strong and healthy state. And this depends in great measure on the manner in which we treat them. The laws of life are impera tive, and will exact severe retribution if violated. Holding the arms straight, swing them with a rotary motion, thrusting them forward as they are elevated and backward as they are lowered, bringing them to the sides, and then repeat. Bodily exercise is an indispensable condi tion for securing healthy digestive organs and an easy digestion. The changes which the food undergoes in the alimentary canaj are partly mechanical and partly chemical , consequently, both mechanical and chemical forces are necessary for effecting them. The former are supplied by the teeth and the muscular parts in the alimentary canal, the latter by the alimentary secretions the saliva, the gastric juice, and the intestinal secretions. The muscles in the alimentary canal, with the exception of those at the be ginning and the end, are of the kind that are not dependent on the will (" involuntary 306 HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRONG. muscles "), but they may be indirectly acted upon by voluntary movements. It is known by experience that strong ab dominal muscles are found where there is good digestion; and that, on the contrary, weakness in these muscles is accompanied by weakness in the digestion. It has also Lift the hands from the sides to the shoulders, then raise the arms at full length above the head, and also extend them horizontally, as shown in the dotted lines. been established that movements which bring the abdominal muscles to contract strongly, have a strengthening influence on the diges tive organs. This is in some measure ex plained by the fact that contractions of the muscles, which are dependent on the will ("voluntary muscles") call forth sympathetic contractions of the involuntary muscles (as, for instance in the eye-ball). Thus it is evident that appropriate bodily exercise has the effect of developing and preserving strong and healthy digestive organs. Many disturbances in the diges tive functions would be prevented if this simple and natural means were duly em ployed. Chronic stomach catarrh, constipa tion, hsemorrhoidal complaints, and other abdominal disturbances, besides many othe* diseases which are consequences of these ; might either be prevented or cured by a due practice of appropriate movements. By means of respiration through the lungs, oxygen is conveyed from the air to the blood, and distributed to all parts of the body. The oxygen combines itself with such substances as are useless or injurious to the body, and these "waste products" are carried with the blood to the lungs, the skin, the intestinal tube, and the kidneys, there to be excreted and removed from the body. The importance of a powerful respiration, by means of which plenty of oxygen is taken in and much waste matter given off, is evident, and no one can be ignorant of the effect that exercise has in increasing respira tion and the respiratory power. Standing erect, with the hands on the hips, lower the body as shown in the figure, and rise; repeat at least fifteen times, but not too fast. Placing the hands on the hips, right leg forward and left leg slightly bent, bring the body into the position of the dotted lines; then placing the left leg forward, repeat movements. Deep and calm breathing is preferable to rapid and superficial. The latter way of breathing is insufficient, and indicates weak ness, whereas calm and deep breathing sup poses powerfully developed respiratory organs HOW TO STRENGTHEN THE MUSCLES. 307 During and after exercise respiration is both frequent and deep; thus a greater amount of oxygen is taken in, and waste matter (car bonic acid, etc.) given off. A wide and mobile chest is generally a sign of strength in the organs of respiration. That bodily exercise develops these organs may be seen in strong laborers, seamen, and soldiers, and still more in those who make use of gymnastics in a rational manner. Contrast with these the narrow and little- movable chest of those who lack physical education, and, in consequence of occupation or deficient energy of will, are deprived of the necessary amount of bodily exercise. With the body bent forward, closed bands be tween the knees, raise the body and elevate the hands above the head, taking care to keep the arms straight ; repeat. Place the hands on the front side of the hips, bend the body forward, and then rise to an erect position ; at the same time throwing the head backward ; repeat. Respiration also facilitates the circulation of the blood. The lungs would not, if left to their natural volume, fill the whole cavity of the chest; but the air that rushes in through the air tubes expands them and keeps them close to the inside of the chest, which is widened by the action of the muscles concerned in inspiration. In consequence of the great elasticity of the lungs, they react against the pressure of the air, and tend to shrink from their surroundings. This causes a diminished pressure of the air from within the lungs on the heart and the large blood vessels lying within the chest, outside and between the lungs ; this again acts with an attractive or sucking force on the bloo^ towards the heart. Steady yourself with one hand on a chair ; place the other hand on the hip and swing the leg as shown in the figure ; repeat, and then swing the other leg in like manner. Now, it is true that this sucking force would tend to retain the blood in the arteries with a force corresponding to that which, in the veins, sucks the blood towards the heart, if the walls and the arrangement of the valves were quite alike in the arteries and veins. But, as before mentioned, the blood in the large arteries is under great pres sure, owing to the high elasticity of the walls in these vessels, whereas the pressure is very slight in the veins, their walls having but little elasticity. Moreover, the walls oi the arteries are firm and resist the suction, whereas those of the veins are soft and yield to it Finally, the three semilunar valves between the aorta and the left ventricle (being shut 308 HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRONG. during the "diastole," or widening of the heart), preventing any backward flow of the blood in the arteries, and the veins being provided with valves all along their inside, which open in the direction towards the heart, there is no hindrance to the flow of the blood forwards in this direction. The consequence of all this is that the diminished pressure en the heart and the large vein- trunks within the chest (above referred to) promotes the circulation in the veins towards the heart, but has little influence on the cir culation in the arteries. Steady yourself with one hand on a chair, place the other hand on the hip, and swing the leg forward and backward - repeat, and then swing the other leg in like manner. To sum up shortly, exercise develops strong respiratory organs, by the energetic action of which circulation is facilitated, and also a richer exchange between the air and the blood induced. Just as a strong current of air keeps up a brisk fire supposing there be sufficient provision of fuel -just so a power ful respiration stimulates the functions of the organs, and thus accelerates the process of renewal and exchange of material in all parts of the body, supposing of course, that there be at the same time a good supply of food stuns. By means of its circulation, the blood is distributed to every part of the body, thus affording the opportunity for the various glands to secrete out of it the fluids ("secre tions") necessary to digestion and other pur poses. The blood also takes up the waste Stretch the body forward, placing the hands on .- chair ; then straighten the arms and raise the body This must not be repeated so many times as to render the muscles sore and stiff. matters from the tissues and throws them ofl through the agency of the lungs, the skin s the kidneys, aud the intestinal tube (the bowel). The rapid and complete throwing off of the waste matters is not less important for the preservation of the body than an abundant supply of appropriate food stuffs. This figure shows the position of the body after it i. raised from the chair according to directions accom panying preceding figure ; do not make the movement rapidly, as this will produce exhaustion. Muscular exercise increases the circulation and the pressure of the blood within the very small arteries, which causes an increased transudation of nutritive material to fill the interspaces of surrounding textures ; whereat it diminishes the pressure of the blood - HOW TO STRENGTHEN THE MUSCLES. the very small veins, thus facilitating the exchange of matters between the blood and the fluid contents of the textural interspaces. An accelerated circulation in the veins facilitates the absorption of the waste mat ters, and also causes the absorption from the alimentary canal of a greater quantity of nutritive material, so as to preserve the normal composition of the blood. Now, it being a proved fact that appro priate exercise induces this accelerated cir culation, this rapid renewal of the tissues, it follows, as a matter of course, that such exer cise is indispensable to health. For, let me repeat it, a rapid and normal renewal of the material in the body is health. Just as tinder ordinary circumstances the merchant's profit is great in proportion as business is brisk ; such is also the case with the human organ ism ; it gains in health and strength by a rapid and duly balanced exchange of mate rial, and we have seen that bodily exercise facilitates both the renewal of the tissues and the throwing off of the refuse. With arms bent, hold the wand behind the back as shown by the figure ; this throws the chest forward ; then bend and straighten the legs alternately. The idea that exercise must have some effect on the organs of movement is so apparent that one is apt to draw inferences at a glance from the condition of these organs, not only as to the physical power of the individual, but as to his state of health as well. The very fact that the organs of movement form such a preponderating portion com' pared to other organs their weight being about nine-tenths of the whole suggests at once that a powerful development of those organs must have a great influence on th6 organism as a whole. Thi<* is an exercise to strengthen the muscles of th wrists and arms, and consists in holding the dumb bells out and bending the wrist each way as far as possible. Prolonged action tires the muscle, the weariness resulting from a waste within its substance, a destruction of the contracting muscular elements. But the fatigue disap pears after due rest, in consequence of the used-up material having been removed Now, movements do not diminish the volume of the muscle ; on the contrary, they increase it, if applied within due limits. This shows that new substances have made good the used-up material, and this in increased mea, sure, thus corroborating what has been de monstrated elsewhere as to muscular exercise accelerating circulation and increasing the absorption of nutritive material, the demand for this manifesting itself in an increased appetite. 3io HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRONG. Muscular action, as well as the increased beat accompanying it, are forces developed at the expense of the nutritive material; but these are the very things that cause the mus cles to gain in bulk and strength, supposing they be provided with sufficient nutritive material, and that there be due intervals of rest; otherwise the muscles would not be able to absorb the necessary nutriment, and consequently would begin to waste instead. Hold the i bells high above the head, then lower and elevate the arms at least a dozen times. With arms extended side- wise, palms downward, lower the bells to the sides and raise them ; repeat, then strike the bells together in front and behind the back. Appropriate exercise is not only necessary *br the normal development and the rapid renewal of the muscles, but also for the strengthening of the passive organs of move ment the bones and the ligaments that keep these together in the joints* The importance of strong and healthy organs of movement for the duties of life in general, but more especially for the preserva tion and restoration of health, is evident from the fact that it is possible to influence, through action of the muscles, not only the regenerative process of the organism as a Whole, but, any special part of the body. But the development of the organs of movement may be carried beyond the limits for real health, as health has for its basis a certain harmony and equilibrium between the different organs that constitute the organism ; and it is an undeniable physiologi cal fact that excess in the development 04 one organ brings about weakness in another, to the detriment of health (as is often seen in acrobats and athletes). But so it is with all good things that are used in excess ; and yet this does not deprive them of their qualities of goodness and usefulness when used with sense and moderation. For more than two thousand years the dumb bell has been in use as a means of This figure shows the rotary motion with dumb bells. Bend the body forward, resting the weight on one foot, then on the other, swinging the bells low as voa change from one foot to the other. physical culture. It was highly prized by the Greeks. Many advantages are justly claimed in its behalf. If used in private, it occupies little space either at rest or in action.' For the same reason it is excellent in the training of large classes. Although not to be compared with the New Gymnastic Ring-, HOW TO STRENGTHEN THE MUSCLES. With one leg bent touch the floor with the bells, the knee of the bent leg coming between the arms ; then change the position as shown in the figure ; repeat fifteen times. soon to be described, the Dumb Bell deserves its great popularity. Among the Greeks it had a peculiar shape, and in this respect has undergone many changes, of which something will be said hereafter. Its present shape is well known. A practical suggestion upon this point may not be amiss. The handle should be at least half an inch longer than the width of the hand, of such size as can be easily grasped, with a slight swell in the middle. The manufacturer must not forget there is a wide difference between the hand of a little girl and that of large man. A girl's gymnastic dress should be loose throughout and gathered at the waist. Stand erect with hands on the hips and light weight on the head ; then rise on the toes and fall. Grasp the wand, about three feet in length, with both hands, then raise the wand as high as the head, and lower to the above position ; repeat twenty times. Heretofore dumb bells have been made of metals. The weight in this country has usually been considerable. The general policy at present is to employ those as heavy as the health seeker can put up This is wrong. In the great German Gymnastic Institutes dumb bells were formerly em ployed weighing from fifty to one hundred pounds, but now distinguished authorities condemn such weights and advocate those weighing from one to five pounds. Those weighing two pounds are heavy enough for any man, and ordinary use. The weight of the dumb bell turns entirely on the manner in which it is used. If only lifted over the head, one or two pounds would be absurdly light; but if used as they should be, then one weighing ten pounds is beyond the strength of the strongest. A just statement of the issue is this : if you only lift the dumb bell from the floor, put it up, and then put it down again, of course it should be heavy, or there is no exercise ; but if you would use it in a great variety of ways, assuming a hundred grace ful attitudes, and bringing the muscles into use in every direction, requiring skill, the bell must be light. 312 HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRONG. There need be no controversy between the light weight and the heavy weight party on this point. We of the light weight party agree that if the bell is to be used as the heavy weight party uses it, it must be heavy ; but if as we use it, then it must be light. If they of the heavy weight party think not, o?e only ask them to try it. Hold the wand as in the figure, one arm at the side, then rotate the wand over the head, bringing the other arm to the side ; repeat twenty times. The only question which remains is that which lies between all heavy and light gymnastics, viz: whether strength or flexi bility is to be preferred. Without entering upon a discussion of the physiological prin ciples which underlie this subject, we will simply say that we prefer the latter. Our light weight athletes are, physiologically con sidered, greatly superior to heavy lifters. But here we ought to say that no man can be flexible without a good degree of strength. It is not however, that kind of strength in volved in great lifting. One of the finest gymnasts in the country told us that in several attempts to lift five hundred pounds he failed, and that he should never try it again. This same gymnast owns a fine horse. Ask him to lend that horse to draw before a cart and he will refuse, because such labor would make the animal stiff, and unfit him for light, graceful movements before the carriage. The same physiological law holds true of man; lifting great weights affects him as drawing heavy loads affects the horse. So far from man's body being an exception to this law, it bears with peculiar force upon him. Moving great weights through small spaces, produces a slow, inelastic, inflexible man. No matter how flexible a young man may be, let him join a circus company, and lift the cannon twice a day, for two or three years, and he will become as inflexible as a cart horse. No matter how elastic the colt is when first harnessed to the cart, he will soon become so inelastic that he is unfi*- to serve before the carriage. Hold the wand and one arm horizontally, with other arm bent, then bend the straight arm and straighten the bent ; loosen the fingers and clasp the wand again with each movement. Men, women and children should be strong, but it should be the strength of grace, flexi bility, agility and endurance ; it should not be the strength of a great lifter. We alluded to the gymnastics of the circus. Permit us to call special attention to three features to the man who lifts the cannon, to the india-rubbet man, and to the general performer. HOW TO STRENGTHEN THE MUSCLES. 313 The lifter and the india-rubber man con stitute the two mischievous extremes. It is impossible that in either there should be the highest physiological conditions ; but in persons who are general performers, is found the model gymnast. They can neither lift great weights nor tie themselves into knots, but they occupy a point between these two extremes. They possess both strength and flexibility, and resemble fine active, agile, vigorous carriage horses, which occupy a point between the slow cart horse and long- legged, loose-jointed animal. With heavy dumb bells the extent of motions is very slight, and of course the range and freedom of action will be cor respondingly so. This is a point of great importance. The limbs, and indeed the Holding the wand high above the head, lower it to the breast, then elevate it, then swing it over the head backward, changing the hands so as to retain the hold. entire body, should have the widest and freest range of motion. It is only thus that our performances in business or pleasures of life become most effective. A complete, equable circulation of the blood is thereby most perfectly secured. And this, we may remark, is in one aspect the physiological purpose of all exercise. The race horse has a much more vigorous circulation than the cart horse. It is a fact not unfamiliar with horsemen, that when a horse is transferred from slow, heavy work to the carriage, the surface veins about the neck and legs begin at once to enlarge; when the change is made from the carriage to the cart, the reverse is the result. Hold the wand on the shoulders as seen in the figure ; then straighten the right arm, at the same time drawing in and bending the left ; repeat. And when we consider that the principal object of all physical training is an elastic, vigorous condition of the nervous system, the superiority of light gymnastics becomes still more obvious. The nervous system is the fundamental fact of our earthly life. All other parts of the organism exist and work for it. It controls all and is the seat of pain and pleasure. The impressions upon the stomach, for example, resulting in a better or worse di gestion, must be made through the nerves. This supreme control of the nervous system is forcibly illustrated in the change made by joyful or sad tidings. The overdue ship is believed to have gone down with her valuable, uninsured cargo. Her owner paces the wharf, sallow and wan ; appetite and digestion gone. She heaves in sight! She lies at the wharf ! The happy 3M- HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRONG. man goes aboard, hears all is safe, and, taking the officers to a hotel, devours with them a dozen monstrous compounds, with the keenest appetite, and without a subse quent pang. Could we have an unbroken succession of good news, we should all have good diges tion without a gymnasium. But in a world Placing the wand on the shoulders as seen in the figure, bring the arms to the position shown in the dotted lines ; repeat a number of times. of vexation and disappointment^ we are driven to the necessity of muscle culture, and other hygienic expedients, to give the nervous system that support and vitality, which our fitful surroundings deny. If we would make our muscle training contributive in the highest degree to the healthful elasticity of our nerves, the exer cises must be such, as will bring into varied combinations and play all our muscles and ;ierves. Those exercises which require great accuracy, skill and dash, are just those which secure this happy and complete intermarriage of nerve and muscle. If any one doubts that boxing and small sword will do more to give elasticity and tone to the nervous system, than lifting kegs of nails, then we will give him over to the heavy lifters. Another point we take the liberty to urge. Without accuracy in the performance of the feats, the interest must be transient. This principle is strikingly exemplified in mili tary training. Those who have studied our infantry drill, have been struck with its sim plicity, and have wondered that men could go through with its details every day foi years, without disgust. If the drill mastei permit carelessness, then, authority alone can force the men through the evolutions; but if he enforce the greatest precision, they return to their task every morning, for twenty years, with fresh and increasing interest What precision, permit me to ask, is pos sible in "putting up" a heavy dumb-bell ' But in the new dumb-bell exercise, there is opportunity and necessity for all the accur acy and skill which are found in the most elaborate military drills. Hold the wand behind the back as seen in the figure, then bring the arms to the position shown by the dotted lines ; repeat and alternate. But, it is said, if you use bells weighing only two pounds, you must work an hour to reach the exercise which the heavy ones would furnish in five minutes. I need not inform those who have practiced the new series with the light bells, that this objection is made in ignorance. If you simply "put up" the light bell, it is true, but if you use it as herein described and illustrated, it v~ HOW TO STRENGTHEN THE MUSCLES 315 not true. On the contrary, in less than five minutes, legs, hips, back, arms, shoulders, neck, lungs and heart, will each and all make the most emphatic remonstrance against even a quarter of an hour's practice of such feats. Speaking in a general way, these exercises in which the lungs and heart are made to go at a vigorous pace, are to be ranked among the most useful. The " double-quick " of the soldier contributes more in five minutes to his digestion and endurance, than the ordinary drill in two hours. We have said an elastic tone of the nervous system is the physiological purpose of all physical training. If one may be allowed Hold the wan as shown in the figure, the rigjit arm elevated and the left crossing the chest ; then by swinging raise the left arm and bring the right across the chest; repeat. such an analysis, we would add that we ex ercise our muscles to invigorate the thoracic and abdominal viscera. These in their turn support and invigorate the nervous system. All exercises which operate more directly upon these internal organs as for example, laughing, deep breathing and running, con tribute most effectively to the stamina of the brain and nerves. It is only this mania for monstrous arms and shoulders that could have misled the intelligent gymnast on this point. But finally, it is said, you certainly cannot deny that rapid motions with great sweep, exhaust more than slow motions through limited spaces. A great lifter said to me one Place the feet close together, hold the body erect, clasp the wand with both hands and swing it to right and left, keeping the arms straight. day, "Do you pretend to deny that a loco motive with a light train, flying at the rate of forty miles an hour, consumes more fuel than one with a heavy train, moving at the rate of five miles ? " We did not attempt to deny it. "Well, then," he added with an air of triumph, "what have you to say now about these great sweeping feats with your light dumb bells, as compared with the slow putting up of heavy ones ? " We replied by asking him another ques tion. " Do you pretend to deny that when you drive your horse ten miles within an hour, before a light carriage, he is more ex hausted than by drawing a load two miles an hour?" "That's my doctrine exactly," he said. Then we asked, " Why don't you always drive two miles an hour?" "But my patients would all die," replied my HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRONG. friend. We did not say aloud that the dan ger to his patients might be less than he imagined ; but suggested, that nearly every man as well as every horse, had duties in this life which involved the necessity of rapid and vigorous motions that were this slow movement generally adopted, every phase of human life would be stripped of progress, success and glory. As our artificial training is designed to fit us for the more successful performance of the business of life, we suggest that the training should be, in character, somewhat tion of the dray horse, who is pushed before the light carriage at a high speed. Perhaps it is not improper to add, that all this talk about expenditure of vitality is full of sophistry. Teachers and writers speak of our stock of vitality, as if it were a vault of gold, upon which you cannot draw without lessening the quantity. Whereas, it is rather like the mind or heart enlarging by action, gaining by expenditure. When Daniel Boone was living alone in Kentucky, his intellectual exercises were doubtless of the quiet, slow, heavy character. From the above figure the reader will form a good idea of the general move ments in the use of Indian clubs. He can vary the movements so as to give ex ercise to all the muscles of the arms, shoulders, chest, and abdomen. Clubs weighing two pounds apiece are heavy enough for ordinary exercise. assimilated to those duties. If you would train a horse for the carriage, you would not prepare him by driving at a slow pace before a heavy load. If you did, the first fast drive would go hard with him. Just so with a man. If he is to lift hogs heads of sugar, or kegs of nails, as a business, he may be trained by heavy lifting ; but if his business requires the average velocity and free motions of human occupations, then upon the basis of his heavy, slow training, he will find himself in actual life, in the condi- Other white men joined him. Under the social stimulus, his thinking became more sprightly. Suppose that in time he had come to write vigorously, and to speak in the most eloquent, brilliant manner, does any one imagine that he would have lost in mental vigor and dash by the process? Would not the brain, which had only slow exercise in his isolated life, have become bold, brilliant and dashing, by bold, brilliant and dashing efforts? No one will deny that this would have been the result CHAPTER XXIV. The Famous German Pan-Gymnastikon, or Swing and Stirrups. EAL/TH is the most precious of earthly possessions. He who has it, has all things ; he who lacks it has nothing. Men seek with vehement earnest ness, external things. How few recognize the value of health. Men seem to care as little for their bodies as the snail for its shell. The world is full of misery. Physical de formity and suffering are increasing with fearful rapidity. Thank God, the great physiological revolution which is to restore man to his pristine condition has been in augurated. As in the prosecution of all other reforms, we are met on every hand by prejudice. We are told that man was not designed to enjoy uninterrupted health; that in this life he must be the victim of disease and suffering ; that nature will give all needed superin tendence to the body. True, they say, it is possible to ward off danger, but quite chi merical to undertake the prevention of dis ease by a development of the powers within. But the physiological reformer of the pres ent hour affirms that the physical organism is susceptible of indefinite improvement; that it can be made, by certain hygienic processes, so vigorous and resistant, that amid diseases and dangers it may pass through the fire unscathed. How shall such invigoration of our bodies be secured? So far as the answer can be given in one word, it is gymnastics. In the animal body, exercise is the principal law of development. By gymnastics, we mean a system of exercises which the greatest wis dom and largest experience have devised, as best adapted to the complete development of the physical man. Ideler was the first to comprehend the principles of gymnastics, and their application to the training of the body. He saw their infinite worth in the education of youth; in the preservation of the health of adults; and in the cure of many diseases. FIGURE 1. Gymnastics are valuable to all persons, but especially to clerks, students, sedentary artisans, and still more particularly, to those who in addition to sedentary habits, perform exhaustive intellectual labor. With the lat ter class, suffering from indigestion and nervous irritability, nothing but a wise sys tem of gymnastic training can prevent the 3*7 HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRONG. early failuie of the powers of life. We believe that to sucli persons this helpful work, which tells how to be healthy and strong, will come as a most welcome friend. We believe that it may assist them in returning to health and nature, Do not, friends, we implore you, refuse its kind offices by such pleas as "want of time," the "great difficulty of the feats," "age," "rigidity of limbs," or "want of strength;" for if these excuses are well founded in your case, the exercises described in this work, will prove to you of great value. in the gymnastic field, and as most admir ably adapted to the wants of those who can not avail themselves of the advantages of a gymnastic institution. To all such it is a God-send. It is comparatively easy to devise gym nastic exercises which shall interest a social class, enlivened by music. But what shall those do, who, finding it inconvenient or disagreeable to visit the gymnasium, would cultivate muscle and vigor at home? In the absence of social stimulus and music, the exercises themselves must possess pecu- X N <^ FIGURE 2. It is our purpose to present the uses of the Pan-gymnastikon, so called because it poss esses the advantages of all other gymnastic apparatus. We would not underrate the value of other apparatus and modes of ex ercise. We offer the Pan-gymnastikon, not as a full response to the public demand, but as the most complete " multuin in parvo " FIGURE 3. liar fascination. If, in addition, they bring every part of the body into varied action, giving the left arm, shoulder the entire left half of the body as much and as varied exercise as the right, we should have the model home gymnastics. The Pan-gymnastikon meets these de mands more successfully than any other ap* paratus yet devised. While the first exer^ cises of the first series are simple enough for GERMAN PAN-G^MNASTIKON, OR SWING AND STIRRUPS. children, the last exercises of trie last series are beyond the reach of all except those who have favorable composition, and are very much in earnest. For clergymen, ladies and many others, who would carry on the work at home, this invention is the most Complete means imaginable. FIGURE 4. Description of the Pan -gymnast ikon. Two large hand rings suspended from the ceiling by ropes, which, running through padded hooks, are carried to the walls. Two other ropes extend from the walls directly to the hand rings. A strap with a stirrup is placed in either hand ring. By a simple ar rangement on the wall, the hand-rings are j'.rawn as high as the performer can reach, or let down within a foot of the floor ; or at ?.ny altitude they can be drawn apart to any distance. The distance between the stir- nips and rings can be likewise varied. The usefulness of the Pan-gymnastikon depends upon the facility with which these changes can be made. The rings must be raised, let down, drawn apart, the stirrup straps changed, or removed altogether from Hie rings, each and all with a single motion of the hand, and in a moment There ai various simple mechanical contrivances by which these multifarious changes can be made. An ingenious mechanic can scarcely be at fault. We will suggest that in splicing the ropes into the rings, the splice should be long and drawn close ; else giving way, an unpleasant surprise may occur. The ropes should run through strong, padded hooks at the ceiling, which are fastened on the uppei side of the timber with thick nuts. The fastenings on the wall must be made secure. The ropes with which the rings are sepa rated, should be armed with wrought-iron snap-hooks, which can be caught into wrought-iron rings which have been firmly lashed into the suspension rope at the point where it connects with the hand ring. The stirrup straps must be of very strong white leather, with edges so rounded that the pants will not be worn. In shortening the straps, a buckle should not be used, for 4 FIGURE 5. in removing the straps from the hand rings, much time would thereby be lost ; nor should a simple hook be employed, as the leather is liable to give way, and the hook to slip out. A brass H, with one side sewed into the end of the strap doubled, and the other slipped through slits in the body of the strap, is a perfect thing. With this simple contrivance, the strap can be altered or taken out alto 320 HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRONG. gether in a second, and can never give way. The stirrups should be very strong, with ser rated bottoms, and fastened into the ends of the straps with strong sewing and copper rivets. The Pan-gymnastikon cannot be put up in an ordinary gymnasium ; the ceiling is too high. The best height for the ceiling FIGURE 6. hooks is twelve feet; a ceiling as low as eight feet will do. The apparatus can be used, however, in a gymnasium, or in an open yard, by the erection of a simple frame work. If suspended in an ordinary gymna sium, from a ceiling eighteen or twenty feet high, a large number of the most valuable exercises cannot be performed advantage ously. Uses and Value of the Pan-gymnastikon. Upon a close examination of the Pan- gymnastic exercises, the conviction will be forced upon all, that by no other means can such a variety of valuable exercises be reached. A vain boasting over muscular strength & vulgar. We regard with disfavor the cul tivation of mere strength, without a noble carriage, freedom, security, agility and grace. Still less do we approve of a mere display of feats. But what thoughtful person can re flect upon the objects of human life, without seeing that not only is the highest develop ment of the muscular system a great advan tage to those who follow mechanical occu pations, but of vital importance likewise to those who fill the ranks of intellectual life, and who require as a condition of success, good health and strong vitality. Only a whole man is capacitated to per form in the best manner the tasks of life. Is it not an aim worthy our highest efforts FIGURE 7. to develop our whole being to its fullest capacity? To carry forward to full fruition those germs, which, like the slumbering buds of a plant, exist within us, awaiting the period of their development and ripen ing. That which man is > in himself, that which he possesses in his own person his intellectual and physical capabilities, consti tute his only permanent, reliable capital. GERMAN PAN-GYMNASTIKOW, OR SWING AND STIRRUPS. 322 If then a method is opened for the develop ment of his physical strength, not at the cost, but to the advantage of his intellectual powers, would he not prove himself a sim pleton if he refused to follow such a path? The anatomist, in examining the exer cises here introduced, will not fail to discover that each and every set of muscles has re ceived studied attention, while at the same time the general development of the MAN has been kept in vkw. port as well is the points of grasp are iaove= able, whilst c~dinarily these points are fixed The advantage of the Pan-gymnastikon iSj that these points are fixed through a varied action of the muscles. This compels an al most infinite multiplication of the direction and manner of muscular exertion. The Pan-gymnastikon possesses strong at' tractions to lovers of gymnastic exercises, on account of this great variety, and tfie graduated difficulties to be overcome. ^ FIGURE 8. The muscles of the lower part of the body, and the nape of the neck, are more thoroughly trained than by any other mean**- The ex tensor muscles of the fingers, hands, arms and legs, which are never brought into vigorous play with other gymnastic appa ratus, enjoy, in the use of this apparatus, full play. The rotatory and diagonal movements of the muscles, which are particularly effective in the production of symmetry, figure promi nently. Pan-gymnastic exercises derive great ad vantage from the fact that the points of sup- FIGURE 9. will everywhere prove a source of unlimited interest in private houses. The pupil must observe the gradual method of advancing. Beginning with the most simple, and at last reaching the most difficult. He must proceed from exercise to exercise, from degree to degree, from series to series. Figure i. ELBOW SWING, forward and backward^ four, six, or eight times. Rings high enough for the body to hang straight, the body being supported by the elbows. The swing is obtained by soring^ 322 HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRONG. ing from the floor, and a continued effort of the legs. Figure 2. HAND SWING, forward and backward, four, eight, or twelve times. Rings so high that the feet will not touch ill swinging ; wif ! the arms straight FIGURE 10. Figure j. BODY SWING, forward and backward, four, eight, or twelve times. Rings so high that the feet will touch the floor. It is well for beginners especially to keep the arms in the attitude seen in the cut. The legs must not be bent Figure 4. TUNNEL CIRCLING, with Shoulder Support, four, eight, or twelve times. Rings a hand's breadth below the height of the shoulder. Arms put through the rings ; feet do not leave their position. The exercise consists in circling the body around, from left to right and from right to left, the same number of times each way. From all parts of the circle, the body faces in the same direction. The body must not be al lowed to bend in the least. Figure 5. BACK STRETCHED POSITION, during twO) four, or six inhalations. Rings same as in the last Grasp with the spoke grasp from the outside, in such a manner that the rope is brought close be hind the shoulder joint, and the shoulders braced against the rope. The ropes perpen dicular, while the body is kept rigid, with the chest arched upward. Figure 6. HAND HANG, during two, four, or six inhalations. Hands in the rings, placed on outside as in the cut. Beginners, with but little mus cle, had better hang the rings no highei than the abdomen. Back straight and rigid Chest arched forward. Feet locked. Body held still. Figure 7.^-8101$ HANGING, with bending of the Kips* two, four, or six times. FIGURE 11. Height of the ring and position o: tW two arms, the feet and the hips are well shown. The hips are drawn upward and allowed to fall, as suggested in the dotted line. Figure 8. STIRRUP CROSSING, four, sit^ eight times. Rings as high as the hips. Support grasp from the inside. Legs cross each other, so that each alternates before and behind the GERMAN PAN-GYMNASTIKON, OR SWING AND STIRRUPS. 323 other. Hold the rings so that they will not partake of the movement. Count as one in this and similar exercises, the move ments of both legs. It will be self evident, that to stand in the stirrups without move ment, develops varied muscular action in the legs and feet It will be observed that the toes only, rest upon the stirrups. For obvious reasons the feet should not be pushed through to the heels. Figure 9. SWINGING IN STIRRUPS, four> or twelve times. Rings as high as the waist or chest Sup port grasp from the inside. Swing as upon any ordinary swing, when standing. FIGURE 12. Figure 70. SUSPENDED RUNNING IN THE STIRRUPS. Rings and stirrups as in Figure p. Make the same motions of the legs as in running. As the legs pass each other they should be close together. Figure //. CHEST EXPANDING WITS I^ETTING DOWN, two, four, or six times. Rings at the lowest point Arms pe'- pendicular. Body straight; supported i>i the feet on tLe points of the toes, and wifi the hands seizing the rings as seen in the cut Bend the elbows and Itt the body down slowly. Raise it again sln'jiiy. The arrw do nearly all the labor. FIGURE 13. Figure 12. PERPENDICULAR SUPPORT, HEAD DOWNWARD, during two y three^ of four inhalations. Rings as high as the head. Seize from the outside with the hand grasp. Spring from the floor and turn a half summerset^ reaching the inverted position. Each leg should rest against the rope on its own side, the rope being inside the ankle. The body must be kept straight Figure 13. PERPENDICULAR BODY LIFT* ING WITH THE Two ARMS, two, three, of four times. 324 HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRONG. Rings as high as you can reach. Seize from the outside with the hang grasp. Keep the body straight, and draw the head up as high as the rings, letting it down slowly. Figure 14. SUMMERSET FORWARD AND BACKWARD, one, two, or three times. FIGURE 14. Rings as high as the head or shoulders. The first half of the movement is exactly like that in Fig. 13; but unlike those, this one is completed. Turning completely over thus forward, immediately reverse and turn backward. Figure 75. ANGULAR SUPPORT DRAW ING, swo t three, or four times. Figure t6. RAISING THE LEGS IN THE SUPPORT HANG, two, three, or four times. Rings as high as the hip. Support your self as in Fig. 6, and raise both legs with knees unbent directly in front, keeping the tegs together until they form a right angle with the body. Keep them while counting ten, and then let them down slowly. Figure 77. KNEE BEND HANGING, two, or three times. Rings at head height, and from one to the other a strong wooden pole about three feet long is iaid. To reach the position stand beneath the rings with the back stooped. Bend the hands backward and grasp the rings by the side of the pole. With a slight leap the legs are carried over the pole, and the hands let go. One leg after the other is now raised for a little time. In this way '& measured the number of repetitions. In this case as in all others where there is an alterna tion between the two legs, or arms or sides of the body, the two are counted for one. / I \ N FIGURE 15. At the dose of this exercise, the head and Mpper part of the body rise up to grasp the rings again. The stirrup straps are left sus pended, as a means of support in case the rings are not at once reached. Figure 18. FOOT POINT HANG, during one, two, or three inhalations. GERMAN PAN-GYMNASTIKON, OR SWING AND STIRRUPS. 3-5 Place the pole in the rings a little higher than the head. The leap is made as for a summerset The point of support is where the toes join the foot. The feet being placed on the pole, the hands leave the rings, and the body hangs straight. The stirrup straps are allowed to remain so that in attempting to reach the rings with the hands, they may be resorted to if necessary. Figure 19. SQUATTING LEAP. From the lowest squatting position, with only the points of the feet upon the floor, one executes the leap forward over the cord. This is an excellent exercise for persons with indigestion, torpid liver, or constipa tion. It will accomplish more in a single minute to arouse a vigorous action in the abdominal viscera than horse back exercise in half an hour. FIGURE 16. Persons with hernia or hemorrhoidal tnmors will, without warning, exercise due caution in the performance of this feat But in regard to this and other expressed cautions, if persons who undertake the exe cution of these exercises, have performed in due course all the exercises of the Pan-gym- nastikon, there will be little difficulty o* danger in the execution of the most difficult leaps. FIGURE 17. The movements described in this chaptet should be performed with great accuracy, and start from a right commencing position., Every motion (bending, stretching, turning, etc.) should be fully achieved. It is only when* performed in this definite way that the movements will have all the effects anti cipated. Each movement must be defined, not only as to form, but also as to the energy with which it should be executed, and the num ber of times it should be repeated. A thoughtful performer will find in his own experience of the movements a good guide in this respect. If a movement leaves an agreeable sensation, this is a sign that it has been performed with appropriate force and frequency. It often happens that a 326 HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRONG. of weariness or a dull pain in the muscles arises in weak persons, unaccustomed to muscular exercise, but this should not in duce them to leave off the movements altogether; they should only for a couple of days perform them with less energy, and also reduce their number; and then, after FIGURE 18. hiving practised for some time this minimum of movements, they should gradually increase them in both respects. Indeed, weak and ailing persons should always begin the exercises in this moderate way. As a rule, the moT ements should not induce fatigue, much less any pain in the muscles, which will not happen if the move ments be proportioned to the amount of force and other peculiarities of the individual. If any real benefit is to be derived from the movements, a wise order with regard to food and drink so essential to health must be observed. You see the laborer, when rly fed, become exhausted and weakened by work, which if he had substantial food, would increase his powers and strengthen his health. A starving individual cannot derive any benefit for his health from exer cises. But people are more frequently at fault in taking inappropriate food or taking food in too great quantity ; and it should be borne in mind that the wholesome effects of the movements will be lessened, if not quite neutralized, unless due moderation in eating and drinking be observed. The movements should be performed in a well-ventilated space. Fresh air being a condition necessary to health, it follows that the performance of exercises in close, stuffy air cannot bring about the intended whole some effect. FIGURE 19. Daily experience shows us the beneficial influence that muscular exercise has on the nervous system. There is evidently a differ ence, as to the condition of their nerves, between workingmen of all descriptions, and the classes of society which more or less lack bodilv exercise. CHAPTER XXV. Healthful Athletic vSports. t,L, the girls in this country might well assemble in a mass meeting, and with one grand feminine shout pass a vote of thanks to society at large for the liberty which custom allows them in out door sports. Boys and men can always find means for out-door exercise, but the girls the poor, pale, housed girls, "cabined and con fined " must take most of their exercise in sweeping and dish-washing. Still, they are not so restrained as they were a few years Sgo. Girls can even handle the oars now, and no one would be such a simpleton as to Suggest that rowing is indelicate. When the whole nation of American Women learn to walk, row, swim, ride horse back, play croquet and lawn tennis, we shall .not be the laughing stock of all the rest of the w?rld for our sallow faces, narrow chests, '.rtoopjng shoulders, spindling bodies and lan guid motions. Heaven speed the day ! LAWN TENNIS. Among the few sports which ladies and gentlemen can enjoy together lawn tennis is the most popular. It is a fine game, especi ally for ladies. It requires quick move ments, the use of all the bodily powers, in- $tant decision of mind, accompanied by in stant volition. For this game you require a smooth piece of ground ; no matter whether it is turfed or not. If you have a turfed court the grass should be cut very short in order that the oiay move freely. The Court. 1. The Court is 78 feet long, and 27 feel wide. It is divided across the middle by a net, the ends of which are attached to two posts, A and B, standing 3 feet outside of the court on either side. The height of the net is 3 feet 6 inches at the posts, and 3 feet at the middle. At each end of the court, par allel with the net, and 39 feet from it, are drawn the base lines D E and F G, the ends of which are connected by the side lines D F and EG. Half way between side lines, and parallel with them, is drawn the half- court line I H, forming the right and left courts. On each side of the uiet, 21 feet from it, and parallel with it, are drawn the service lines KL, and M N. The Balls. 2. The Balls shall measure not less than 2 X 5~32 inches, nor more than 2 1-2 inches in diameter ; and shall weigh not less tha* I ^5-16 ozs., nor more than two ozs. The Game. 3. The choice of sides, and the right tc serve in the first game, shall be decided by toss; provided that, if the winner of the toss choose the right to serve, the othei player shall have choice of sides, and vice versa. If one player choose the court, the other may elect not to serve. 4. The players shall stand on opposite sides of the net; the player who first de livers the ball shall be called the server, and the other the strike-out 5. At the end of the first game the striker- out shall become server, and the server shaT 328 HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRING. oecome striker-out; and so on alternately in all the subsequent games of the set, or series of sets. 6. The Server shall serve with one foot on the base line or perpendicularly above said line, and with the other foot behind said line, but not necessarily upon the ground. He shall deliver the service from the right to the left courts, alternately, be ginning from the right 7. The ball served must drop between the service line, half-court line, and the side line of the court, diagonally opposite to that from which it was served. to return the service he shall be deemed ready. 13. A service or fault delivered when the striker-out is not ready, counts for nothing. 14. The service shall not be volleyed, z. taken, before it has touched the ground. 15. A ball is in play on leaving the server's racquet, except as provided for in law 8. 1 6. It is a good return, although the ball touches the net; but a service, otherwise good, which touches the net, shall count fat nothing. 1 7. The server wins a stroke if the striker- out volleys the service, or if he fails to re- B 18 21 M 39 8. It is a Fault if the server fails to strike the ball, or if the ball served drops in the net, or beyond the service line, or out of court, or in the wrong court ; or if the server does not stand as directed by law 6. 9. A fault cannot be taken. 10. After a fault the server shall serve again from the same court from which he served that fault, unless it was a fault be cause he served from the wrong court 11. A fault cannot be claimed after the next service is delivered. 12. The server shall not serve till the gtriker-out is ready. If the latter attempts 21 18 H K 39 turn the service or the ball in play; or if he returns the service or the ball iu play so that it drops outside of his opponent's court; or if he otherwise loses a strokej as provided by law 20. 1 8. The striker-out wins a stroke if the server serves two consecutive faults ; or if he fails to return the ball in play ; or if he re turns the ball in play so that it drops out side of his opponent's court; or if he otherwise loses a stroke, as provided by aw 20. 19. A ball falling on a line is regardec as falling in the court bounded by that line HEALTHFUL ATHLETIC SPORTS. 329 20. Either player loses a stroke if the ball touches him, or anything that he wears or carries, except his racquet in the act of of striking; or if he touches the ball with his racquet more than once ; or if he touches the net or any of its supports while the ball is in play ; or if he volleys the ball before it has passed the net 21. In case a player is obstructed by any accident, not within his control, the ball shall be considered a "let" But where a per manent fixture of the court is the cause of the accident the point shall be counted. The benches and chairs placed around the court shall be considered permanent fixtures. If, however, a ball in play strikes a perma nent fixture of the court (other than the net or posts), before it touches the ground, the point is lost; if after it has touched the ground, the point shall be counted. 22. On either player winning his first stroke, the score is called 15 for that player; on either player winning his second stroke, Ihe score is called 30 for that player ; on either player winning his third stroke, the stroke is called 40 for that player ; and tiie fourth stroke won by either player is scored game for that player, except as below : If both players have won three strokes, the score is called deuce ; and the next stroke won by either player is scored advantage for that player. If the same player wins the next stroke, he wins the game ; if lie loses the next stroke the score returns to deuce ; and so on until one player wins the two strokes immediately following the score of deuce, when game is scored for that player. 23. The player who first wins six games, wins the set, except as below: If both players win five games, the score is called games all; and the next game won by either player is scored advantage game for that player. If the same player wins the next game he wins the set; if he loses the next game, the score returns to games all ; and so on until either player wins the two games immediately following the score of games all, when he wins the set. But the com mittee having charge of any tournament may, in their discretion, modify tins rule by the omission of advantage sets. 24. The players shall change sides at the end of every set, but the umpire, on appeal from either player before the toss for choice, shall direct the players to change sides at the first, third, fifth, and every succeeding alternate game of each set, if, in his opinion, either side have a distinct advantage, owing to the sun, wind, or other cause, but if the appeal be made after the toss for choice, the umpire can only direct the players to change sides at the end of the first, third, fifth, and every succeeding alternate game of the odd or deciding set. If the players change courts in the alternate games throughout the match, as above, they shall play in the first game of each set after the first in the corner in which they respectively did not play in the first game of the set immediately pre* ceding. 25. When a series of sets is played, the player who served in the last game of one set shall be striker-out in the first game of the next. 26. In all contests the play shall be con tinuous from the first service until the match be concluded, provided, however, that be tween all sets after the second set, either player is entitled to a rest, which shall not exceed seven minutes, and, provided further, that in case of an unavoidable accident, not within the control of the contestants, a ces sation of play which shall not exceed two minutes may be allowed between points, but this proviso shall be strictly construed, and the privilege never granted for the purpose 330 HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STROiNTG. of allowing a player to recover his strength or wind. The umpire, in his discretion, may at any time postpone the match on ac count of darkness or condition of the ground or weather. In any case of post ponement the previous score shall hold good. Where the play has ceased for more than an hour, the player who at the cessation thereof was in the court first chosen, shall have the choice of courts on the recommencement of play. He shall stay in the court he chooses for the remainder of the set The last two sentences of this rule do not apply when the players change every alter nate game, as provided by Rule 24. 27 The above laws shall apply to the three-handed and four-handed games, except as below: The Three-handed and Four-handed Games. 28. For the three-handed and four-handed games the court shall be 36 feet in width ; 4^ feet inside the side lines, and parallel with them are drawn the service side lines. The service lines are not drawn beyond the point at which they meet the service side lines. 29. In the three-handed game, the single player shall serve in every alternate game. 30. In the four-handed game, the pair who have the right to serve in the first game shall decide what partner shall do so ; and the opposing pair shall decide in like man ner for the second game. The partner of the player who served in the first game shall ,erve in the third, and the partner of the player who served in the second game shall serve in the fourth, and the same order shall be maintained in all the subsequent games of the set. 31. At the beginning of the next set either partner of the pair which struck out In the last game of the last set may serve ; and the same privilege is given to their oj> ponents in second game of the new set. 32. The players shall take the service al ternately throughout the game ; a player cannot receive a service delivered to his partner ; and the order of service and strik ing-out once established shall not be altered, nor shall the striker-out change courts to re ceive the service, till the end of the set. 33. If a player serve out of his turn, the umpire, as soon as the mistake is dis covered, shall direct the player to serve who ought to have served. But all strokes scored before such discovery shall be counted. If a game shall have been completed before such discovery, then the service in the next alternate game shall be delivered by the player who did not serve out of his turn, and so on in regular rotation. 34. It is a fault if the ball served does not drop between the service line, half-court line, and service side line of the court, dia gonally opposite to that from which it was served. 35. It is a fault if the ball served does not drop as provided in law 34, or if it touches the server's partner or anything he wears or carries. 36. There shall be a referee for every tournament, whose name shall be stated in the circular announcing such tournament He shall have general charge of the matches, under the instructions and advice of the managing committee, with such power and authority ^s may be given him by these rules and by said committee. He shall notify the committee in case he intends to leave the grounds during the matches, and the committee shall appoint a substitute to act, with like powers, during his absence. There shall be an umpire for each match, and as many linesmen as the players desire. The umpire may act as linesman also. The HEALTHFUL ATHLETIC SPORTS. 33* umpire shall have general charge of the match, and shall decide upon and call "lets," and also decide whether the player took the ball on the first or second bounce. The um pire shall also decide any question of inter pretation or construction of the rules that may arise. The decision of the umpire upon any question of fact, or where a discretion is allowed to him under these rules, shall be final. Any player, however, may protest against any interpretation or construction of the rules by the umpire, and appeal to the referee. The decision of the referee upon such appeals should be final. The court shall be divided between the linesmen, and it shall be their only duty to decide, each for his share of the court, where the ball touched the ground, except, how ever, the linesmen for the base lines, who &hall also call foot faults. The linesmen's decisions shall be final. If a linesman is /tmable to give a decision because he did not See or is uncertain of the fact, the umpire ishall decide or direct the stroke to be played again. Odds. 37. A Bisque is one point which can be taken by the receiver of the odds at any time in the set, except as follows : (-l S^ lj r G * 5 ^> v 3 r 8 - M 1 t 00 3 o S I I 1 o o *3 N tj 3 a j tspunog ao qonox na^ Off -spnnog jo qonoj^ H I o 3 jj 5* A uonor nr B" i o o teams of eleven men each ; and in case of a disqualified or injured player a substitute ihall take his place. Nor shall the disquali- ied or injured player return to further par ticipation in the game. RULE 14. There shall be an umpire and a referee. No man shall act as an umpire whf? is an alumnus of either of the com- petkig' colleges. The umpires shall be nominated and electe4 by th<* Advisory for the players, and his decision is final re garding fouls and unfair tactics. (b} The referee is judge for the ball, and his decision is final in all points not covered by the umpire. (c) Both umpire and referee shall use whistles to indicate cessation of play on fouls and downs. The referee shall use a stop watch in timing the game. RULE 1 6. (a) The time of a game is ao 334 HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRUNT3. hour and a half, each side playing forty-five minutes from each goal. There shall be ten minutes' intermission between the two halves. The game shall be decided by the score of even halves. Either side refusing to play after ordered to by the referee, shall for feit the game. This shall also apply to refus ing to commence the game when ordered to by the referee. The referee shall notify the captains of the time remaining not more than ten nor less than five minutes from the end of each half. () Time shall not be called for the end of a three-quarter until the ball is dead ; .and in the case of a try-at-goal from a touch-down the try shall be allowed. Time shall be taken out while the ball is being brought out either for a try, kick-out or kick-off. RULE 17. No one wearing projecting nails or iron plates on his shoes or any metal substance upon his person, shall be allowed to play in a match. No sticky or greasy substance shall be used on the person of players. RULE 1 8. The ball goes into touch when it crosses the side line, or when the holder puts part of either foot across or on that line. The touch line is in touch and the goal line in goal. RULE 19. The captains shall toss up be fore the commencement of the match, and the winner of the toss shall have his choice of goal or of kick-off. The same side shall not kick-off in two successive halves. RULE 20. The ball shall be kicked off at the beginning of each half; and whenever a goal has been obtained, the side which has lost it shall kick-off. RULE 21. A player who has made and claimed a fair catch shall take a drop-kick, or punt, or place the ball for a place-kick, the opponents may come up to the catcher's mark, and the ball must be kicked from some spot behind that mark on a parallel to touch line. RULE 22. The side which has a free-kick must be behind the ball when it is kicked. At kick-off the opposite side must stand at least ten yards in front of the ball until it is kicked. RULE 23. Charging is lawful for oppo nents if a punter advances beyond his line, or in case of a place-kick, immediately the ball is put in play by touching the ground. In case of a punt-out, not till ball is kicked, RULE 24. (a) A player is put off-side, if, during a scrimmage, he gets in front of the ball, or if the ball has been last touched by his own side behind him. It is impossible for a player to be off-side in his own goal. No player when off-side shall touch the ball, or interrupt, or obstruct opponent with his hands or arms until again on-side. (b) A player being off-side is put on-side when the ball has touched an opponent, or when one of his own side has run in front of him, either with the ball, or having touched it when behind him. (c) If a player when off-side touches the ball inside the opponents' five yard line, the ball shall go as a touch-back to the oppo nents. RULE 25. No player shall lay his hands upon, or interfere by use of hands or arms, with an opponent, unless he has the ball. The side which has the ball can only inter fere with the body. The side which has not the ball can use the hands and arms, as here tofore. RULE 26. (a) A foul shall be granted foi intentional delay of game, off-side play, 01 holding an opponent, unless he has the ball. No delay arising from any cause whatsoever shall continue more than five minutes. (&) The penalty for fouls and violation of rules, except otherwise provided, shall be a HEALTHFUL ATHLETIC SPORTS. 335 down for the other side ; or, if the side mak ing the foul has not the ball, five yards to the opponents. RULE 27. (a) A player shall be disquali fied for unnecessary roughness, hacking or sari king with closed fist. () For the offences of throttling, tripping np or intentional tackling below the knees, the opponents shall receive twenty- five yards, or a free-kick at their option. In case, however, the twenty-five yards would carry the ball across the goal line they can have half the distance from the spot of the offence to the goal line, and shall not be al lowed a free-kick. RULE 28. A player may throw or pass the ball in any direction except towards op ponents' goal. If the ball be batted in any direction or thrown forward it shall go down on the spot to opponents. RULE 29. If a player when off-side in terferes with an opponent trying for a fair catch, by touching him or the ball, or wav ing his hat or hands, the opponent may have a free-kick, or down, where the interference occurred. RULE 30. (a) If a player having the ball be tackled and the ball fairly held, the man so tackling shall cry "held," the one so tackled must cry " down, " and some playe* of his side put it down for a scrimmage. The snapper back and the man opposite him cannot pick out the ball with the hand until it touch a third man ; nor can the opponents touch the ball until it is in motion. The snapper back is entitled to but half the ball. If the snapper back be off-side in the act of snapping back, the ball must be snapped again, and if this occurs three times on same down, the ball goes to opponents. The man who first receives the ball when snapped back from a down, or thrown back from a fair, shall not carry the ball forward under any circumstances whatever. If, in three consecutive fairs and downs, unless the ball cross the goal line, a team shall not hav .. ad vanced the ball five or taken it back twenty yards, it shall go to the opponents on spot of fourth. "Consecutive" means without leaving the hands of the side holding it, and by a fair kick giving opponents fair and equal chance of gaining possession of it. () The man who puts the ball in play in a scrimmage cannot pick it up until it has touched some third man. "Third man" means any other player than the one putting the ball in play and the man opposite him. RULE 31. If the ball goes into touch, whether it bounds back or not, a player on the side which touches it down must bring it to the spot where the line was crossed, and there either: I. Bound the ball in the field of play, or touch it in with both hands, at right angles to the touch line, and then run with it, kick it, or throw it back ; or II. Throw it out at right angles to the touch line; or III. Walk out with it at right angles to touch line any distance not less than five nor more than fifteen yards, and there put it down, first declaring how far he intends walking. The man who puts the ball in must face field or opponents ' goal, and he alone can have his foot outside touch line. Anyone, except him, who puts his hands or feet between the ball and his opponents' goal is off-side. If it be not thrown out at right angles, either side may claim it thrown over again, and if it fail to be put in play fairly in three trials it shall go to the oppon ents. RULE 32. A side which has made a touch-down in their opponents ' goal must try at goal, either by a place-kick or a punt- out HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRONG. RULE 33. (a) If the try be by a place- kick, a player of the side which has touched the ball down shall bring it up to the goal line, and making a mark opposite the spot where it was touched down, bring it out at right angles to the goal line such distance as he thinks proper, and there place it for another of his side to kick. The opponents must remain behind their goal line until the ball has been placed on the ground. (b) The placer in a try-at-goal may be off side or in touch without vitiating the kick. RULE 34. If the try be by a punt-out, the punter shall bring the ball up to the goal line, and making a mark opposite the spot where it was touched down, punt-out from any spot behind line of goal and not nearer the goal post than such mark, to another of his side, who must all stand outside of goal line not less than fifteen feet If the touch down was made in touch in goal, the punt- out shall be made from the intersection of the goal and touch lines. The opponents may line up anywhere on the goal line, except space of five feet on each side of pun ter's mark, but cannot interfere with punter, nor can he touch the ball after kicking it until it touch some other player. If a fair catch be made from a punt-out, the mark shall serve to determine positions as the mark of any fair catch. If a fair catch be not made the ball shall go to the opponents at the spot where it first strikes the ground. RULE 35. A side which has made a touch- back or a safety must kick out from not more than twenty-five yards outside the kicker's goal. If the ball go into touch before strik ing a player it must be kicked out again ; and if this occurs three times in succession it shall be given to opponents as in touch on twenty-five yard line on side where it went out. At kick-out opponents must be on twenty-five yard line, nearer their own goal. RULE 36. The following shall be th value of each point in the scoring : Goal obtained by touch-down , 6 Goal from field kick 5 Touch-down failing goal 4 Safety by opponents, 2 BASE BALL. The Ball Ground. RULE i. The ground must be an en closed field, sufficient in size to enable each player to play in his position as required by these Rules. RULE 2. The Infield must be a space of ground thirty yards square. The Bases. RULE 3. The Bases must be : SECTION i. Four in number, and desig nated as First Base, Second Base, Third Base and Home Base. SECTION 2. The Home Base must be of whitened rubber twelve inches square, so fixed in the ground as to be even with the surface, and so placed in the corner of the infield that two of its sides will form part of the boundaries of said infield. SECTION 3. The First, Second and Third Bases must be canvas bags, fifteen inches square, painted white, and filled with some r jrt material, and so placed that the center of the second base shall be upon its corner oi the infield, and the center of the first and third bases shall be on the lines running to and from second base and seven and one-half inches from the foul lines, providing that each base shall be entirely within the foul lines. SECTION 4. All the bases must be securely fastened in their positions, and so placed as to be distinctly seen by the Umpire. The Foul Lines. RULE 4. The Foul Lines must be drawn in straight lines from the outer corner of HEALTHFUL ATHLETIC SPORTS. 33? art IIDHT 2d BASEMAN CORRECT DIAGRAM OF A BASE BALL GROUND. * ' A - Ground reserved for Umpire, Batsman and Catcher. B. B. Ground reserved for Captain and Assistant. C. Players' Bench. D. Visiting Players' Bat Rack. E. Home Plavers' Bat Rack. 53* HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRONG,. the Home Base, along the outer edge of the First and Third Bases, to the boundaries of the Ground. The Position Lines. RULE 5. The Pitcher's Lines must be Straight lines forming the boundaries of a space of ground, in the infield, five and one- half feet long by four feet wide, distant fifty feet from the center of the Home Base, and so placed that the five and one-half feet lines would each be two feet from and parallel with a straight line passing through the center of the Home and Second Bases. Each corner of this space must be marked by a flat round rubber plate six inches in diameter, fixed in the ground even with the surface. RULE 6. The Catcher's Lines must be drawn from the outer corner of the Home Base, in continuation of the Foul Lines, straight to the limits of the Ground back of Home Base. RULE 7. The Captain's or Coacher's Line must be a line fifteen feet from and parallel with the Foul lines, said lines commencing at a line parallel with and seventy-five feet distant from the Catcher's Lines, and runn ing thence to the limits of the grounds. RULES. The Player's Lines must be drawn from the Catcher's Lines to the limits of the Ground, fifty feet distant from and parallel with the foul lines. RULE 9. The Batsman's Lines must be straight lines forming the boundaries of a space on the right, and of a similar space on f t Jeft, of the Home Base, six feet long by \ i wide, extending three feet in front of aud three feet behind the center of the Home Base, and with its nearest line distant six inches from the Home Base. RULE 10. The Three Feet Lines must be drawn as follows : From a point on the Foul Line from Home Base to First Base, and equally distant from such bases, shall be drawn a line on Foul Ground, at a right angle to said Foul Line, and to a point three feet distant from it ; thence running parallel with said Foul Line, to a point three feet distant from the First Base ; thence in a straight line to the Foul Line, and thence upon the Foul Line to point of beginning. RULE ii. The lines designated in Rules 4> 5> 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10 must be marked with chalk or other suitable material, so a^. to be distinctly seen by the Umpire. They must all be so marked their entire length, except the Captain's and Player's Lines, which must be so marked for a distance of at least thirty- five yards from the Catcher's Lines. The Ball. RULE 12. The Ball. SECTION i. Must not weigh less than five nor more than five and one-quarter ounces avoirdupois, and measure not less than nine nor more than nine and one-quartet inches in circumference. The Spalding League Ball or the Reach American Associa tion Ball must, be used in all games played under these rules. SECTION 2. For each championship game two balls shall be furnished by the Home Club to the Umpire for use. When the ball in play is batted over the fence or stands, on to foul ground out of sight of the players, the other ball shall be immediately put into play by the Umpire. As often as one of the two in use shall be lost, a new one must be substituted, so that the Umpire may at all times, after the game begins, have two for use. The moment the Umpire delivers a new or alternate ball to the pitcher it comes into play, and shall not be exchanged until it, in turn, passes out of sight on to foul ground. At no time shall the ball be inten tionally discolored by rubbing it with the soil or otherwise. SECTION 3. In all games the ball or balls HEALTHFUL ATHLETIC SPORTS. 339 played with shall be furnished by the Home Club, and the last ball in play becomes the property of the winning club. Each ball to be used in championship games shall be ex amined, measured and weighed by the Secre tary of the Association, inclosed in a paper box and sealed with the seal of the Secretary, which seal shall not be broken except by the Umpire in the presence of the Captains of the two contesting nines after play has been called. SECTION 4. Should the ball become out of shape, or cut or ripped so as to expose the yarn, or in any way so injured as to be in the opinion of the Umpire unfit for fair use, the Umpire, on being appealed to by either Captain, shall at once put the alternate ball into play and call for a new one. The Bat. RULE 13. The Bat : SECTION i. Must be made wholly of wood, except that the handle may be wound with twine, or a granulated substance applied, not to exceed eighteen inches from the end. SECTION 2. It must be round, except that a portion of the surface may be flat on one side, but it must not exceed two and one- half inches in diameter in the thickest part, and must not exceed forty-two inches in length. The Players and their Positions. RULE 14. The players of each Club in a game shall be nine in number, one, of whom shall act as Captain, and in no case shall less than nine men be allowed to play on each side. RULE 15. The players' position shall be such as may be assigned them by their Cap tain, except that the Pitcher must take his position within the Pitcher's Lines, as defined in Rule 5. When in position on the field, all players will be designated " Fielders " in these Rules. RULE 1 6. Players in uniform shall not be permitted to seat themselves among the spectators. RULE 17. Every Club shall be required to adopt uniforms for its players, and each player shall be required to present himself upon the field during the said game in a> neat and cleanly condition; but no player" shall attach anything to the sole or heel of his shoes other than the ordinary base ball shoe plate. The Pitcher's Position. RULE 1 8. The pitcher shall take his position facing the batsman with both feet square on the ground, one foot on the .rear line of the "box." He shall not raise either foot, unless in the act of delivering the ball, nor make more than one step in such de livery. He shall hold the ball, before the delivery, fairly in front of his body, and in sight of the Umpire. When the pitclief feigns to throw the ball to a base he must resume the above position and pause momen tarily before delivering the ball to the bat. The Batsmen's Positions Order of Batting. RULE 19. The batsmen must take their positions within the Batsmen's Lines, as de fined in Rule 9, in the order in which they are named on the score, which must contain the batting order of both nines, and be sub mitted by the Captains of the opposing teams to the Umpire before the game, and when approved by him THIS SCORE must be fol lowed except in the case of a substitute player, in which case the substitute must take the place of the original player in the batting order. After the first inning the first striker in each inning shall be the bats man whose name follows that of the last man who has completed his turn time at bat in the preceding inning. RULE 20. SECTION i. When their side goes to the bat the players must immediately HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRONG. return to and seat themselves upon the players' bench, and remain there until the side is put out, except when batsman or base runner. All bats not in use must be kept in the bat racks, and the two players next suc ceeding the batsin; n, in the order in which they are named in the score, must be ready with bat in hand, to promptly take position as batsman ; provided, that the Captain and one assistant only may occupy the space be tween the players' lines and the Captain's lines to coach base runners. SECTION 2. No player of the side at bat, except when Batsman, shall occupy any por tion of the space within the Catcher's Lines, as denned in Rule 6. The triangular space behind the Home Base is reserved for the exclusive use of the Umpire, Catcher and Batsman, and the Umpire must prohibit any player of the side "at bat" from crossing the same at any time while the ball is in the hands of, or passing between, the Pitcher and Catcher, while standing in their positions. SECTION 3. The players of the side "at bat" must occupy the portion of the field allotted them, but must speedily vacate any portion thereof that may be in the way of the ball, or of any Fielder attempting to catch or field it. Players' Benches. RULE 21. The Players' Benches must be furnished by the Home Club, and placed upon a portion of the ground outside the Players' Lines. They must be twelve feet in length, and must be immovably fastened to .the ground. At the end of each bench must 'be immovably fixed n. bat rack, with fixtures for holding twenty bats; one such rack must be designated for the exclusive use of the Visiting Club, and the other for the exclusive use of the Home Club. The Game. RULE 22. SECTION i. Everv Champion ship Game must be commenced not latei than two hours before sunset. SECTION 2. A Game shall consist o f nine innings to each contest: e nine, except that, (a) If the side first at oat scores less runs in nine innings than the other side has scored in eight innings, the game shall then terminate. () If the side last at bat in the ninth in ning scores the winning run before the third man is out, the game shall terminate. A Tie Game. RULE 23. If the score be a tie at the end of nine innings to each side, play shall only be continued until the side firs 1 : at bat shall have scored one or more runs than the other side^ in an equal number of innings, or until the other side shall score one or more runs than the side first at bat. A Drawn Game. RULE 24. A Drawn Game shall be de clared by the Umpire when he terminates a game on account of darkness or rain, aftel five equal innings have been played, if the score at the time is equal on the last even innings played; but if the side that went second to bat is then at the bat, and has scored the same number of runs as the other side, the Umpire shall declare the game drawn without regard to the score of the last equal innings. A Called Game. RULE 25. If the Umpire calls "Game" on account of darkness or rain at any time after five innings have been completed by both sides, the score shall be that of the last equal innings played, unless the side second at bat shall have scored one or more runs than the side first at bat, in which case the score of the game shall be the total number of rims made. HEALTHFUL ATHLETIC SPORTS. A Forfeited Game. RULE 26. A forfeited game shall be de clared by the Umpire in favor of the club not in fault, at the request of such club, in the following cases : SECTION i. If the nine of a club fail to appear upon a field, or being upon field, fail to begin the game within five minutes after the Umpire has called "Play" at the hour appointed for the beginning of the game, unless such delay in appearing or in com mencing the game be unavoidable. SECTION 2. If, after the game has begun, one side refuses or fails to continue playing, unless such game has been suspended or ter minated by the Umpire. SECTION 3. If, after play has been sus pended by the Umpire, one side fails to re sume playing within one minute after the Umpire has called " Play." SECTION 4. If, in the opinion of the Umpire, any one of these rules is wilfullv violated. SECTION 5. If, after ordering the re moval of a player, as authorized by Rule 57, Section 5, said order is not obeyed within five minutes. SECTION 6. In case the Umpire declares a game forfeited, he shall transmit a written notice thereof to the President of the Asso ciation within twenty-four hours thereafter. No Game. RFLE 27. "No Game" shall be declared by the Umpire if he shall terminate play on account of rain or darkness, before five in- aings on each side are completed. Substitutes. RULE 28. SECTION i. In every cham pionship game each team shall be required to have present on the field, in uniform, at least two or more substitute players. SECTlon 2. Two players, whose names must be printed on the score card as extra players, may be substituted at any time by either club, but no other player so retired shall thereafter participate in the game. In addition therrrx ? substitute may be allowed at any time in place of a player disabled in the game then being played, by reason of ill ness or injury, of the nature and extent of which the Umpire shall be the sole judge. SECTION 3. The Base Runner shall not have a substitute run for him, except by con sent of the Captains of the contesting teams. Choice of Innings Condition of Ground, RULE 29. The choice of innings shall b$ given to the Captain of the Home Club, whc shall also be the sole judge of the fitness ol the ground for beginning a game after rain, The Delivery of the Ball Fair and Unfair Balls. RULE 30. A Fair Ball is a ball delivered by the Pitcher while standing wholly within the lines of his position, and facing the Bats man, the ball so delivered, to pass over the Home Base, not lower than a Batsman's knee, nor higher than his shoulder. RULE 31. An Unfair Ball is a ball de livered by the Pitcher, as in Rule 30, except that the ball does not pass over the Home Base, or does pass over the Home Base, above the Batsman's shoulder, or below the knee. Balking. RULE 33. A Balk is: SECTION i. Any motion made by the Pitcher to deliver the ball to the bat without delivering it, and shall be held to include- any and every accustomed motion with the hands, arms or feet, or position of the body assumed by the Pitcher in his delivery of the ball and any motion calculated to deceive a base runner, except the ball be accidently dropped. SECTION 2. The holding of the ball by 342 HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRONG. Pitcher so long as to delay the game un- siecessarily ; or SECTION 3. Any motion to deliver the 'ball, or the delivering the ball to the bat by 2he Pitcher when any part of his person is upon the ground outside of the lines of his position, including all preliminary motions with the hands, arms, and feet. Dead Balls. RULE 33. A Dead Ball is a ball delivered to the bat by o -1-- iv upright attitude, the arms av& 350 HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRONG. the hands stretched and kept close along the sides. When down in the water the swim ming movements should be recurred to at once, in order to rise to the surface as promptly as possible. "The Header." In diving, the body is bent forward with ihe arms stretched over the head, the palms of the hands kept close against each other, and when arrived so far forwards that it is on the point of falling, in that very moment one makes a good start with both feet, immedi ately afterwards throwing upwards the legs In the first instance, the inclination of hw body towards the water should be less than later on, till it finally becomes a vertical one. He should, however, be careful that in the vertical down-leap the legs may not strik^ over to the opposite side (z.e., backwards), S3 as to make him throw a somersault into the water. The more shallow the water, the more the down-leap should approach the hori zontal direction. To leap from greater heights demands great force and self-control, and should never be attempted until assiir- ance and practice in taking up the proper attitude have been gained. When practicing the stoop ing-leaps, it is important to as certain beforehand the depth of the water and the nature of the bottom, in order to avoid being hurt against stones and othel things that may possibly mak| the water unsafe. THREt POSITIONS IN DIVING AND RETURNING. and stretching the back. As soon as one touches the water the head and the back should at once be sent backwards in order to change the direction of the body, and thus bring the head above the water. After some practice the stooping-leap can also be perform ed head foremost, the arms and hands being itretched close along the sides. In order to gain assurance and precision a good deal of practice is necessary, and the learner should pass gradually from the easy to the more difficult performances; thus he should first da the leaping from a lesser height, then from Higher and higher places, The art of diving consists, properly speaking, in swim ming under the water with re tained breath and open eyes. Diving is related to the plunge into the water in so far as it can be exercised as a continuation of a stooping-leap by means of swimming under the water either downwards towards the bottom or in the horizontal direction. This, however, pre supposes some previous practice in diving into shallow water, and should be done witb due precaution and not with rashness. Diving whilst already swimming can b done in the following manner : One raises one's self somewhat in the water, stretches the arms over head, making the hands meet, so as to form a wedge in front of the then, with a spring, make the leap. CHAPTER XXVI. How to Nurse the Sick. as many lives have been saved by good nursing as by good doctors. Medical skill cannot always save life, but it has a far better prospect of doing it when accompanied by proper care for the sick. There are those whc get well in spite of neglect, and there are multi tudes who die just by reason of it. Medical treatment would have raised them to health, if good nursing had attended it. A diseased organ demands the greatest in dulgence. An unsound leg must not be used in walking, running or jumping ; a disturbed stomach must not be tried by indigestible food; hoarseness interdicts talking, singing and shouting ; week eyes should avoid a bright light ; a short-winded person must not hurry in going up or down a staircase, or on the slope of a hill. It is against this cardinal rule that the larger number of offences is committed, especially during the convales cence of a diseased member. Most patients find i* hard to await qtiietfy the complete healing and restoration of an impaired organ, but would hasten to burden a part, still weak and but imperfectly re covered, with tasks beyond its capacity. The unwelcome result is that the disease breaks out afresh and assumes now a graver cha racter and a more lingering type. Especially in typhoid fever do we often see a fatal recur rence, and no physician should omit to cau tion a patient convalescing from this disease against the very dangerous consequences of departing from the prescribed diet. TheDatien* should observe a well-balanced. restful self-restraint, avoiding everything a. all out of the ordinary. It is surprising ho\9 many persons in sickness feel constrained to do something strangely inconsistent with their condition. This may be thought the reason, in no small number of instances, why at a certain point an illness is disturbed in its otherwise favorable course and begins an advance toward a fatal termination. It would be much better for every patient to remain in his room, if not in bed, up to the end of the period of illness, quite as carefully as at its beginning. Everything furnished the patient should be of the best quality. Above all, at night as well as during the day, the air of the sick room should be pure and free from drafts and from dampness. The mattress must not be too high, the temperature of the room must preserve an equable medium, and the food must be easily digested and moderately nil tritive, while the drinks should be mild and unirritating. All unusual excitements are to be avoided, as well as efforts of the mind, senses or body, glaring lights, loud noises, and disagreeable odors. Very often we find it to be the case, and not a little, it may be, to the injury of the patient, that he is either greatly overfed, 0; that nearly all nourishment is withheld frorr, him. Generally the rule is to give littit food at a time and to repeat it frequently. Food prepared for the sick should always be of the best quality and cooked with the ut most care. The nurse should bear in mind that her task is that of supplementing an im- 352 HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRONG. paired digestion. Food should be served at regular intervals, and speedily removed if not promptly eaten. Soap and Water. Under no circumstances may the sick room be allowed to go unaired, the patient's linen to remain long without changing, or his body to stand in need of bathing. In nearly every complaint the functions of the skin are subject to more or less disturbance, and in many grave diseases it is through this channel almost exclusively that nature finds means of relief. The poisonous excretions are merely thrown out by the skin, not carried away from its surface. Nothing but soap and water can effect that. If we permit a sick person to remain unwashed, or his clothing to be worn after it has become saturated with perspiration, we interfere just as much with the natural processes of tissue change as if a slow poison were given by the mouth : the only difference lies in the less rapid action of the former. Special care should be observed in the use of water for bathing in the case of persons suffering from debility, the result of sickness or of age. In such persons it is often seen that a bath, such as was used with benefit in robust health or in younger years, is followed now by palpitation of the heart, slackened pulse, more or less vertigo, shivering, and other feelings of discomfort, lasting for some time after its use. In ordinary cases it may be accepted as a good rule that whenever a bath, hot, tepid, or cold, is followed by a *ense of oppression, or by inconvenience of any kind, it has done, not good, but harm. Distressing- Bed-Sores. Baths, more especially tepid and cool ones, are often employed by physicians in the re duction of temperature. In long-continued illnesses the phystcian and nurse must pay particular attention, during the patient's bath and the change of his bed-linen, to the condition of his back and hips, in order to ascertain if bed-sores exist, and, should they discover the reddish discoloration which marks the appearance of these distressing ulcers, appropriate treatment must at once be instituted. The time consumed by a patent's bath should not be unduly pro- longe^", :iud the same is to be said in regard to thin-skinned individuals when in health. As soon as a chilly feeling arises the bath should come to an end. When a bath is objectionable, the best substitute is found in chafing, wrapping in wet towels, or in sponging followed by thorough drying. In severely painful affec tions of the chest or abdomen the earliest relief may often be obtained by means of a Priesnitz Dressing. For this purpose a sheet is folded neatly and evenly to the width of the body, and one end of it is dipped in water and wrung out until it ceases drip ping; then the wet half is applied to the chest or abdomen, and the whole sheet is wound as tightly as possible about the body, so that the dry portion overlies the wet por tion. By this means an agreeable warmth is established for three or four hours. Scrupulous Cleanliness. Ol still greater importance than Jie cleansing of the skin is that of the mucous membranes as a measure ^f precaution against the adhesion of disease germs as well as against digestive disturbances. If the patient is unable to cleanse his own nose, mouth and pharynx, some one else should do this for him, by wiping off the membrane of these regions as carefully as possible with a sponge or pledget dipped in the disinfec tant solution the doctor has ordered. The cloths or sponger '-".sed for this purpose should be immediately burned. HOW TO NURSE THE SICK. 355 Spittoons and chamber-vessels require thor ough cleansing. As soon as possible after use the contents of these vessels should be disinfected and emptied. Every appurtenance of the sick-chamber, and especially the patient's bed, unless some reason exist to the contrary, must be sub jected once or more each day to a thorough cleaning, and later on to frequent disinfec tion. If possible, the patient should be trans ferred for about an hour during this pro cess to another room already cleaned and aired. Meanwhile all the windows of the sick-room are to be opened as widely as pos sible in order to effect an energetic ventila tion. The bed must then be taken com pletely apart and the mattresses, pillows, and bed-clothing either renewed or turned, or at any rate thoroughly and individually aired. None but light blankets should be used as a covering for the sick. Weak patients are invariably distressed by the weight of bed- clothing, which often prevents sound sleep. The bed should not stand too high to allow of the patient's leaving it and moving about, when the physician permits. It should not be placed in a corner, but should stand as nearly as possible in the middle of a large room, so that the patient shall receive air and softer light Directly from their sources. Bed- curtains are accordingly inadmissible. Big Doses of Sunshine. If possible, the sick-chamber should be that room in the house into which the sunshine has the readiest entrance ; and if the bed can be so placed that its occupant sees a stretch of blue sky, so much the better will it be. If the patient can see out of two windows instead of one, he will be twice as well off. It is found in all hospitals that rooms which admit the sunlight have fewer deaths, all other things considered, than those upon the shady side of the building; and, where sta- 23 tistics have been kept for a period of it is found that the average time for recovery is earlier upon the sunny side than upon the shady. Furthermore, it has been shown that in asylums, prisons, and other institutions, more of the inmates become ill who are com pelled to reside upon the shady side of the building than of those who live on the sunny side. The intelligent reader will remember the sad variety of idiocy, called "cretinism," which is found so commonly upon the sides of deep valleys in Switzerland, where the sun has no freedom of access ; a form of mental disease wholly unknown upon the opposite sides of such valleys, more favored by the sunlight. These statements plainly demonstrate the value of sunshine, and he must indeed be very unwise, who neglects to apply his knowledge of its importance to the affairs of everyday life. There are a few diseases, such as certain affections of the eye or brain, in which a subdued light is required for a time. But even in these a room on the sunny side of the house, with suitable cur tains at the windows, is usually to be IM* ferred to one upon the shady side. Importance of Sleep. A sick person should never under anj circumstances be awakened from sleep with out the sanction of the physician. Once awakened after a short nap, a patient can rarely fall asleep again ; while, had he slept a few hours before being aroused, he might have fallen asleep again in a few v.iinutes with little effort. As a rule visitors should be excluded, and only those admitted who are congenial to the patient and whose pleasant and friendly faces seem therefore to exercise a beneficial influence over him. In like manner he should be surrounded only by agreeable objects, such, for instance, as his favorite 354 HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRONG. fiowers. For protection from the annoyance of flies and mosquitoes screens should be osed in spite of their slight interference with ventilation. If other measures are .found necessary against mosquitoes, an .effective preparation may be supplied in .the balsamic "essence of pennyroyal," a vial of which is to be left hanging un corked above the bed. The pain and red ness of the skin which result from the bite of a mosquito disappear at once upon the application of spirits of ammonia, or, still better, of the anisated spirits of ammonia. Noises, and especially startling noises, ought most carefully to be guarded against. A good nurse will see that no door opens with a creak, that no window rattles, and a very good one will also make sure that not even a curtain flaps. A drop of oil and a feather may be relied on to do away with the creaking. Keep the Miiid Calm. A sick person never should be subjected to curiosity, anxiety, care, sorrow, or any form of fear. As a rule business matters should not be discussed in the presence of the sick. Sometimes a man who has made no will before his illness is anxious and uneasy until that duty is accomplished, but takes a favorable turn as soon as the matter is off his mind. The less mental effort de manded, the better for the patient It is the duty of a nurse, both in his own interest and in that of his charge, to avoid every form of activity prejudical to his health, every diminution of his strength, and every possibility of contagion. For the latter reason he should be careful never to approach the bed of a patient sick with con tagious disease, when his own stomach is *mpty ; for such a stomach predisposes greatly to contagion. He should wear no beard, Should keep his hair cut short, should bathe and disinfect his person frequently, and should often change his linen and outer' clothing. The latter should be light rather than dark in color. The nurse should not approach the sick bed upon the side removed from an open window, in order that the entering air may not have an opportunity of reaching him across the bed. He should never raise a bed- covering from his own side of the bed, but always from the opposite side, reaching across the patient, in order not to expose himself to the first outburst of contaminated air con fined beneath the fabric. In cases of conta gious disease neither the nurse or any other person ought to be allowed to make iise oi any article used by the patient In certain contagious diseases, moreover, every one who approaches the patient should wear a respi rator before his mouth and nose, for this precaution insures protection by compelling the air inhaled to pass through a layer of cottonwool, which absorbs all germs of dis ease. But a person so protected, while himself escaping infection, is quite capable of spread ing the disease by means of his clothing, and he should not fail to disinfect himself thoroughly as soon as he leaves the patient This warning refers especially to persons leaving crowded institutions where conta gious diseases are rife, such as schools, camps, prisons, ships, and hospitals. Danger of Overdosing:. A judicious physician will limit the amount of medication to the smallest possible quan tity. On the other hand it is the part of wisdom for the patient to follow carefully the doctor's instructions and to avoid any offence against his commands. Many drugs are poisons, and the patient may under no cir cumstance increase the dose his physician has ordered, in th^ belief that a larger quantity. HOW TO NURSE THE SICK. 355 of the drug will bring him quicker relief. Not only do such capricious acts sometimes prove dangerous and even fatal to the patient, but they have in other instances precisely the opposite effect from that intended for the drug, for many substances act in quite a differ ent way when taken in overdoses from what they do when administered according to directions. What is left unused of prescriptions ordered by a physician should not be preserved, as there is not one chance in a hundred that the same special combination will ever be re quired again, unless in the case of some lini ment or some constituent of one which can be utilized in some way. Beside this, Jiedicines as a rule do not keep well, and the more bottles of this sort to be found about the house, the greater is the likelihood of a mistake in getting hold of one when another is wanted. When not in* immediate use all medicines should be kept in a separate closet or in some other well-determined repository. Such place of storage should be wholly free from dampness, for moisture impairs and gradually destroys the efficacy of most drugs, especially when in the form of powders. If the closet can be kept under !o?k and key, so much the better. Light must be excluded, as it destroys many substances. A low, uniform temperature is likewise desirable. The most dangerous persons about a patient are the old (and in not a few instances, too, the young) aunts and grandmothers of either sex, who are often the more importunate with their panaceas, the less they understand about the matter. Such individuals would do better, instead of vaunting the infallibility of their preparations in every known ailment, to examine into their own conduct, and to confess, in the light of their age and past experiences, that they are assuming an tin- j wjll be useful in emergencies. warrantable responsibility by interfering with and often by completely neutralising thft physician^ treatment. Nowhere has the saying, "Deliver me from my friends," a truer application than here. Often, indeed, there is less of friend ship and sympathy than of self-love and vanity in the motives which prompt this usurpation of the healing office. While a physician takes pains, in the statement of his diagnosis and prognosis, to be tender, sparing, and con siderate, these obtrusive meddlers, in order to stand afterward in so much the better light, vie in setting forth the patient's con dition in gloomy, unconsoling colors, thereby greatly depressing his mental and bodily powers of resistance. Still, the more repre hensible their conduct, the less risk is there for them ; if the patient recovers, they take the credit ; if his sickness assumes a serious turn, it is the doctor's fault On the other hand, much depends upon the influence of sympathetic clergymen and truly considerate friends, who have it in their power to set quite at ease the devout and trustful spirit of an invalid. This in direct assistance is of great value, for no physician, to whatever quarter his religious belief may incline, will deny that a patient's recovery may be materially hastened by favorable mental influences. Clergymen and school teachers in country districts where no physician is at hand wouk" do well to possess themselves, like captaim of vessels, of a certain amount of medica) knowledge, in order to be able in emer gencies to render the earliest and most necea sary aid without waiting for the doctor'? arrival. With the same object a small stock of medicines should also be kept at hand, whose composition and uses have been ex- plained by a neighboring practitioner. These 356 HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRONG. A sick-room should be made as cheerful and pleasant as possible. It is bad enough to be an invalid, without being shut up in a dungeon. Flowers iu the Siek-lloom. Flowers are very beautiful and very wel come during seasons of health. A stroll through a well-kept garden, especially in the early morning before the dew has passed away, and when the richness of coloring, and the singular sensation of exuberant life, then particularly observable, are at their height; an hour spent in the depths of dingles and green glades, whera the sun, shimmering through the broken boughs overhead, lights up for \ moment wild blossoms nestling together amidst the mossy roots of the older trees, are delights that we all can appreciate thoroughly; but when the hour of sickness, of pain, of weariness conies, and we lie on our beds, feeling as though we should never know again what ease and health are, then it is that the quiet worth of our sweet friends the flowers is most truly recognized; then it is that the languid heart leaps up, the dull eye brightens, the pale lips call back their color and their smile together to greet the gentle visitants, as the door opens to admit our old out-of-door comrades, who, undeterred by the uncongenial gloom and closeness, come to sympathize with us, to tell us that we are not forgotten in our former haunts, and that our steps will be gladly hailed there when strength is ours a ping naphtha and spirits of mustard upon the prsecordia, or by applying a mustard poultice in the same region. Especial benefit may be derived from artificial respiration and from blowing air into the lungs. If, in effecting the latter, the operator would avoid applying hi* 357 358 HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRONG. mouth to that of the patient, let him apply a funnel, bladder, or other tube. During the inspiration the nose of the patient must be kept closed. After the lungs have been filled with air, the chest and abdomen are to be pressed upon and the air expelled, or the patient may be rolled upon his back and chest alternately. It is often sufficient to compress the abdomen between the palms of the hands, in order to press upward the diaphragm and the lungs and so to expel the air forcibly. Then, when the hands are withdrawn, the diaphragm returns to its former position, and the air is drawn into the lungs again. In persons in this condi tion artificial respiration should be maintained for at least four or five hours, the face, chest, and back being sprinkled meanwhile at inter vals with cold water. Persons Nearly Drowned. The most effective method for restoring persons nearly drowned is artificial respira tion according to the method of Dr. Sylvester. By this method the patient is to be laid upon his back upon a gentle incline, in such a way that his head shall lie a little higher than his feet, and a small, firm cushion is to be placed beneath his head and shoulders, or, in its absence, a folded garment. Next, his tongue should be drawn forward and se cured beyond his lips. For this purpose the most serviceable appliance is an elastic band fastened over the tongue and under the chin. The operator, standing behind the patient's head, should then grasp the arms of the latter just above the elbows and draw them, with a gentle, steady motion, to a position of exten sion above the head. Here they are to be lield for about two seconds, while air is al lowed to enter the lungs freely. The arms are then to be carried downward and pressed gently but firmly for about the same length of time against the sides of the patient's chest, in order to expel the air from his lungs. These motions should be repeated in alterna* tion ten times in the course of every minute until a continuous respiratory movement be comes perceptible. When this happens arti ficial respiration may be discontinued and an effort made to restore the warmth and circu lation of the body. Persons Overcome by Gases. Persons suffocated by carbonic acid, car bonic oxide, illuminating gas, or sewer gas must be removed as quickly as possible to a room where the air is pure and where the windows and doors are kept open to secure a constant renewal of the atmosphere. All clothing must be removed as rapidly as pos sible, and the patient, completely denuded, placed in a half-recumbent position, and the measures already detailed in cases of drown ing employed to restore him to life. If the respiratory movements have already ceased, long-continued artificial respiration can alone be expected to give success. Struck by Lightning. A person struck by lightning should quickly be removed from the scene of the accident, at once undressed and placed in a half-reclining position, and wrapped in warm blankets. After this is done the measures of revival above described are to be employed, and especially that of artificial respiration. Some stimulant should be administered, a teaspoonful of whiskey, for instance, occa sionally, or twenty drops of the aromatic spirits of ammonia in a tablespoonful of water. Burns caused by lightning should receive the same attention an those from any other cause. Recoveries are on record after an hour of supposed death from lightning. Lightning strikes where there are metals, or where water, dampness or evaporation HOW TO GIVE AID IN EMERGENCIES. 359 occurs. Therefore it is best not to be found near any piece of metal during a storm, and not to take refuge in the water nor under a tree. Localities where there are many men should also be avoided. Sunstroke. Sunstroke, contrary to the usual impres sion, is not in all cases due to exposure of the head to the direct rays of the sun. Statistics show that prostration from the effects of heat may occur under shelter, in the shade, at night, or even in persons who have not been exposed to the sun for days before. In tense heat need not be solar, but may be arti ficial. Since the human body can cool itself much more readily in a dry than in a moist atmosphere, it may be expected to resist the severities of a dry, overheated climate more easily than the oppressive closeness of a damp arid muggy one. For this reason sunstroke is much more infrequent in the dry belt of the Texan prairies than in the lowlands of India or upon the sea-coast For the same reason too, it is especially prone to attack in door workers in confined, moist factories, and notably those who labor in laundries and sugar-refineries. * Sunstroke appears to be decidedly favored by intemperance, by want of acclimatization, and by debility following fatigue in a heated atmosphere. Occupants of badly ventilated sleeping apartments appear to be oftener affected than those who sleep in purer air. It is generally thought by non-professional persons that the symptoms of sunstroke come on without any warning whatever. In most cases, however, it is preceded by pain in the head, wandering of the thoughts or total in ability to think at all, disturbed vision, irri tability of temper, sense of pain or of weight at the pit of the stomach, or inability to breathe with the usual ease and satisfaction. These symptoms become more and more marked until insensibility is reached, pre ceded sometimes by delirium. The skin grows very hot, and usually very dry, but when not dry is covered with a profuse per spiration. The face becomes dusky, or, as the saying is, blue. Breathing becomes rapid and short, or slow and sighing. The action. of the heart, as felt by the hand placed ovei it, is weak and rapid and often as tremulous as the "fluttering of a bird." In many instances, from what is popularly termed the commencement of the attack until it ends in death, the patient does not move a limb, nor even an eyelid. The gradual failure of respiration interferes with the natural puri fication of the blood in the lungs, a feet speedily attested by the livid, purplish ap pearance of the surface. In most cases of sunstroke, accordingly, death comes on gradually by arrest of respiration, such arrest being without doubt due to direct paralysis of the respiratory centres by the excess of heat A person suffering from sunstroke should at once be carried to a cool, airy spot in thte shade of some wall, or perhaps to a large room with a bare floor, or, as is sometimes better, if no sunlight interferes, upon the pavement of a back yard. Unnecessary by standers must be kept at a distance, for, in this as in every other accident, the patient needs all the pure air to be had. His clothing should be at once gently removed, and he should be placed upon his back with his head raised a couple of inches by a folded garment. His entire body, and particularly his head and chest, should then be profusely dashed with cold water. In preparation for this step, a messenger should be despatched for a good supply of ice, and several buckets of ice-water should be made ready for use as rapidly as possible. The ice-water must not HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRONG. be sprinkled over the patient, but dashed against him in large bowlfuls. While one person prepares the ice-water, and another OSes it, a third and even a fourth may employ themselves in rubbing the surface of the patient briskly, each with a handful of cracked ice enclosed in a towel. The purpose of these measures is to re duce the temperature of the body to some thing like a natural standard. When the decline in heat is noticed, the cold applica tions should cease, and the patient should be carefully removed to a dry spot, where the entire surface of his body should be dried with towels. If any tendency toward a re turn of the high temperature should mani fest itself, as is sometimes the case, even after the restoration of consciousness, it must be met at once by a renewal of cold applica tions. A second rise in temperature need not excite surprise when we reflect upon the amount of superheated blood within the body not yet exposed to the influence of the cold applications. Artificial respiration must be resorted to as soon as the heated condition of the body is overcome, and continued until natural respiration returns. The dashing of cold water over the chest and face is a useful means of enomraging a return of the sus pended function of breathing, but the. mechanical methods are best relied on in the main for this purpose. Persons who are Frozen. Persons unconscious from exposure to cold require a special manner of treatment. The effect of excessive cold upon the body as a whole, and especially so in intoxicated persons who have lain down in the open air to sleep, is at first to produce unconscious ness, which, if warmth is not applied, will sooner or later pass into actual death. When excessive cold prevails the inclination to sit down or to lie down should be resisted, fox this is the first indication of freezing. First a sleepy feeling creeps over one- and ther> loss of consciousness supervenes. In order to restore a person from this "in- conscious condition warmth may not be rapidly applied to the whole body, but if should be thawed out by slow degrees. Furthermore, the limbs must be very care fully handled, to avoid fracturing any one oi them, for cold renders them very brittle. The patient should be brought into an un* heated room, undressed, and covered up to the nostrils and mouth with snow or pow dered ice, with which he should be con stantly and gently rubbed. The snow should be removed as fast as it melts, until the skin begins to grow warm and the limbs relax* When its vitality has returned to the skin the snow should be removed and the whole body rubbed with cold cloths. Only no\v may the temperature of the room be grad ually raised and the patient placed in a tepid bath, and afterward in a warm one. From this point the treatment usual in the case of lethargic persons is to be instituted. The rescued individual must be restricted to a light diet for a day or two after emerging from the lethargy. Foreign Bodies in the Throat. It not infrequently happens that a piece of food or some other body finds its way into the back of the mouth and lodges there, being unable to pass farther. In such case the finger, should this be thought best, will often be able to thrust the morsel downward. A hairpin, straightened and then bent at the extremity, may prove serviceable in drag ging the impediment out. Fish-bones may be most readily removed from the throat by swallowing stale bread. The danger of suffocation by foreign bodies may be avoided by breathing regularly, by eating HOW TO GIVE AID IN EMERGENCIES. \ A drinking slowly, by refraining from conversation during meals, and by cutting the food into small pieces. To Stop Bleeding. Hemorrhage is an accident of very fre quent occurrence. In cases of severe bleed ing, when the injury of an artery is indicated by the spurting of the blood in a steady stream from the wound, direct compression should be exerted upon the bleeding artery, either by a finger inserted in the wound, or by means of whatever object happens to be at hand, such as moss, lint, tissue paper, or medicated cotton, until skilled assistance arrives. A more ready means of compres sion is sometimes found in tying the limb above the wound with a strong cord, an clastic band, or even a pair of suspenders. Above all, a bleeding limb should be so held as to impede to the utmost its circula tion, the foot, leg, or arm, for instance, being held upwards. Slighter hemorrhages may be controlled by means of ice, cold water, burnt coffee, vinegar, or the methods of compression spoken of above. The appli cation of a compress, however, is superflu ous, for the coagulation of the blood in cotton, marine lint, oakum, and coffee is sufficient for the stoppage of hemorrhage. But the removal of these materials should not be hastened, for this may lead the bleeding to break out afresh. -'csebleed. In case of Nosebleed it is sufficient in most instances to fill the nostrils with cotton or soft paper, and to leave it there for some time. Wads of cotton dipped in tincture of iron are only to be applied in slight and ex ternal hemorrhages. Indeed, one should be very careful in the use of this remedy, or should forego it altogether, for death has been Vnown to follow immediately upon its use in cases of bleeding from a tooth or from the nose, by the extension of blood-clots to the brain. Bleeding from the Lungs. Any person who has once suffered from & hemorrhage from the lungs or stomach should form the habit of carrying with him : a dose of gallic acid or of ergotin, such as hi* physician may prescribe, or an abundant quantity of common salt, either one of these to be taken in emergency dissolved in water. If no water be at hand, the remedy will be of equal service taken dry. Furthermore, such a person should habitually keep as quiet as possible, should avoid hot food and hot drinks, as well as stimulants and excitations of any kind, should prefer not eating too much at one time, but rather more often, and should live in a well ventilated room, avoiding too warm or oppressive a tempera ture. The same rules hold good in respect to persons troubled with diseases of the heart All Sorts of Injuries. In every case of injury, in cuts, stabs, and gunshot wounds, in contusions, sprains, dis locations, and fractures, in burns, frostbites, and frozen members, the first measure to be adopted is the application of cold in the form of ice, snow, or cold water. These substances are best applied in an animal bladder or a rubber bag. When towels wet in cold water are used, they require to be renewed every minute, for, unless frequently changed, they really act as poultices to the part, invit ing what we wish to prevent. Cold not only stanches any bleeding which may occur, un less the hemorrhage is altogether too severt but it also moderates the ensuing inflamm^ - tion. The injured part must enjoy perfec: rest and must be kept scrupulously c^ean. Fractures. When an injury occurs to the lower 362 HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRONG. Hind it is thought that * bone has been broken, the injured person should lie where be lias fallen, unless the temperatme inter dicts, until suitable assistance arrives. He should then be removed from the spot in a carriage, or preferably in an ambulance. A wagon well filled with hay will serve the purpose equally well, especially if the hay be so disposed as to form a hollow for the re pose of the injured limb. Before removal long splints should be carefully bandaged to both sides of the limb without avoidable dis turbance of the clothing. This is necessary in order to prevent, as far as possible, the grating of one fragment of bone upon an other and the consequent destruction of the soft tissues, which is occasioned by the jarring of even the easiest riding vehicle, and which will inevitably make the injury far more serious. Abscesses. Abscess denotes the gathering of pus. If this occur beneath the skin, and fluctuation can be felt superficially, an incision should be made by the physician rather than allow the abscess to oper of itself; for, in the former case, the cut edges will unite rapidly, while in the latter the heal ing process will be long delayed, and a dis figuring scar will remain, as we so often see where a tooth has ulcerated through the cheek. Furthermore it sometimes happens, especially if the skin is thick, that an ab scess burrows beneath the skin instead of opening through it. Burns. To biu.vs unsalted butter, fresh oil, yolk of egg, or cold cream should be applied at once. An especially good effect is gotten from linseed oil and lime water in equal parts, or from bicarbonate of soda with the requisite amount of water to make a paste. Over such applications should be placed only a very light bandage, not a thick on? which will generate warmth. If the burn is superficial, pencilling with collodion will be found of service before the formation ol blisters, by preventing them from forming. Blisters caused by burns, when they do not evacuate spontaneously, should be opened with a clean needle upon the second day, and the tract should theo be overspread with one of the applications al ready enumerated. The skin should not be hastily removed from the blister, for its pres ence protects the wound. If adjacent parts, such as the fingers or the arm and chest, be come involved in an extensive burn, mea sures must be taken to keep them apart during the process of healing, in order that they may not grow together. Pieces of linen soaked in emollient applications should theru fore be placed between the opposing wounded surfaces. When any one's clothing catches fire, h should immediately be thrown down upon the ground, so as to lessen the tendency of the flames toward his mouth and nostrils. Then ; without a moment's delay, he must be lolled in the carpet or hearthrug, in order to stifle the flames, his head alone being exposed that he may be able to breathe. If no carpet or rug is at hand, take off your coat and use it instead. Keep the flame as much as possible from the face, so as to prevent the entrance of the hot air into the lungs. This can be done by begin ning at the neck and shoulders and smoth ering the flame downward. Should any fragment of garment be found adherent to the burned surface, it should not be separa ted, as the violence required to remove it necessarily increases the damage to the injured part Burns by lime, caustic potash, and other alkalies are as a rule very troublesome, since HOW TO GIVE AID IN EMERGENCIES. ,;ot only removal of the cuticle or superficial r.kin occurs, but also destruction of the soft parts beneath. Lime is a powerful alkali and rapidly destroys the parts with which it comes in contact. It is useless to attempt to pick it off, for the fingers remove no more than they come in contact with ; so an appli cation should at once be made of some sub stance which will unite with the alkali to form a comparatively harmless preparation. To accomplish this we may apply lemon juice, vinegar diluted with water, or any other dilute acid. These acids do not undo what has been done: they only prevent farther mischief. What we say in regard to lime may also be said of potash, soda, ammonia, and the other alkalies. How to Treat those who are Poisoned. The treatment in cases of poisoning -equires the stomach to be emptied as quickly as possible of the poisonous sub stance by means of vomiting, purging, or the stomach-pump. Tickling the membrane of the throat with the finger or with the tip of a feather is in many instances sufficient to induce vomiting. Usually after the giving of an emetic this means is used to hasten its action. Common salt serves a useful emetic action when dissolved in the smallest quan tity of water which will absorb it, and given every minute until vomiting occurs. Another valuable emetic, particularly for children, is pulverized ipecacuanha, which .can be had of any druggist. Warm water is very commonly used to produce vomiting, and so too is mustard mixed in warm water. After vomiting is begun there is usually lit tle trouble in keeping it up by sirnplv giving a plenty of tepid water. When the stomach cannot be emptied completely or rapidly enough, the poison in gested should be rendered as harmless as pos sible by chemical decomposition with anti dotes, by combination with some other sut>- stance, so that a less harmful product is obtained, or by concealing and dieting iL In the treatment of poisoned wounds we. may apply lime-water, chlorine water, solu tion of potassium permanganate, or actual caustic, which not only neutralize the poisou, but obliterate the wound as well. Hydrophobia. Hydrophobia may occur, contrary to the popular opinion, at any season of the year, The avoidance of water is a very marked symptom in man, but no mad dog avoid- water. Mad dogs cannot properly be said to foam at the mouth, but those whose cheek muscles are so relaxed that their jaws hang open necessarily drop some saliva or mucus, Quite as untrue is the idea that mad dogs always run straight ahead and always carry their tails between their hind legs. Such a manner of conducting himself gives to a dog the appearance not so much of being vicious, as of being simply sick. Mad dogs are apt to be very quiet, slug gish, and sullen, and to slink away by them selves ; others, however, become restless and irritable, and bite and run away. Most such dogs lose their appetite, but they swallow very abnormal substances, such as earth, straw, and shreds of cloth. Mad dogs all bark in a peculiar manner, and this is a characteristic feature of the disease. Their proclivity for biting exhibits itself rather against animals than against men, and sometimes they con fine themselves to snapping at inanimate objects; yet they do not always spare theit masters. They bite in a noiseless, insidious manner, without previous barking or snarl ing. Death follows eight or nine days later. The recognition of hydrophobia, it will ac cordingly be seen, is not without difficulty, and for this reason it is to be urgently recom mended to every owner of a dog, that, so soon 3^4 HOW TO BE HEALTHY AND STRONG. as lie perceives in the animal any departure from his usual condition and behavior, im mediately the object of suspicion should be s^uded from mankind. A dog who has bitten a human being is very apt to be slain at once by the bystanders. This should not be permitted, but the sus pected animal should be placed in confine ment and watched under proper safeguards for the appearance of the disease. Should no indubitable symptoms indicate the disease in the dog, it can be readily seen what unnec essary mental distress will have been saved both to the person bitten and to his friends. A number of well authenticated instances are on record where the bite of the common skunk or polecat has been followed, after the usual period of incubation, by symptoms of rabies. Out of the forty-one cases recorded, all except one, a farmer, who knew of the danger and took the precaution of using prompt preventive treatment, ended in death. Persons so injured should promptly resort to the peculiar measures advised for the treatment of poisoned wounds. Snake Poison. Snake poison, which, very soon after the bite of the serpent, causes violent incisive and radiating pains, as well as a dark bluish swell ing of the wounded region, and later dizzi ness, difficult breathing, and stupefaction, is a colorless, odorless, viscid fluid, very similar to olive oil. The poison of some tropical snakes occasions no local symptoms, because death follows only a few minutes after the bite. Neither chemical nor microscopical research has hitherto furnished a satisfactory explanation concerning these poisons. Their manner of operation too, is still quite obscure. Their effect is produced only by direct con tact with the blood, which they appear to have the property of decomposing with great rapidity. The venom of a snake has no poi sonous action when introduced into the stomach. The poisonous snakes are sluggish crea tures, which seldom attack men unless provoked. The effect of their sting is propor tioned to the amount of venom accumulated. Whoever is bitten by one of them should at once suck out the wound and apply one of the above named cauterants. Prompt ampu tation of the injured part may be successful in saving life. In any case a ligature should be applied, if possible, above the wound, to be relaxed, if much swelling occurs, and again tightened when feasible. The instan taneous use of potassa, soda, or, still better, of a dark red solution of permanganate of potash, or of the same chemical in dry condi tion used both externally and internally, very often proves beneficial. The slower action of the heart, which is indicated by a feeble pulse and by other ap pearances of prostration, calls for the free use of stimulants. Marvelous stories are told of the quantities of whiskey and brandy taken under these circumstances by persons not addicted to their use. It is often wise to give them freely at brief intervals until symptoms of intoxication appear. The great enfeeblement of the heart readily suggests laying the injured person upon his back, since this is the position in which the powers of the heart are least taxed. The house should always be supplied with rem/ edies. BOOK IV. Business Rules and Forms. CHAPTER XXVIII. Meaning of Terms Used in Business. enc^ Relinquishing to underwriters property saved fro^i siilpwrecks. Abatement. Discount ; sum allowed on payment of money berore due. Acceptance. A receiving so as to bind the agreement to pay a bill or draft. Accommodation Paper. The loan of commercial paper or credit. Aurued. Interest or increase due and unpaid. Account. A statement ; an arrangement of debits and credits in relation to auy person or thing; a reeo: d of business transactions. sicrmint Sal^s. A statement of the product arising from the sale of goods received by a merchant from another party, and sold for his benefit, together with the costs and charges incurred 'n making such sale. Accountant. One who is skilled in accounts. Actuary. A clerk of certain courtsand insurauceoffices; one skilled in annuities ; an acting officer. Administrator. One who manages an intestate estate. Adjustment. Settlement of a difference between two parties. Admiralty. A body \vhich controls naval affairs in England. Ad valorem. According to value. Advance. Additional price, stocks above par. Advances. Sums of money paid by a merchant upon goods lodged in his hands for sale at a future time. This term also covers money loaned by bankers on bills of lading. Adixnture. Property ventured in a voyage ; a specula tion. Advice. Counsel given, n?naliy in regard to the pur chase and sale of goods. Affidavit. A declaration under oath made in writing; Agent. A person who acts for another ; a deputy. Adulteration. Mixing a spurious with a genuine artick* All quired in solemn instruments. Attorney (Power of}. A document by which a authorizes another to act in his stead. Auctioneer. One who sells goods at aa auction. BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. Auditor. A person authorized to examine and adjust accounts. Avail *. Proceeds of property sold. Average. A proportional share of general loss, usually applied to a loss of goods at sea ; also a mean time of payment for several debts due at different times. A'Mard. The decision of arbitrators in a disputed transaction. Bail. Surety for another ; giving security for appear ance on trial. Bailee. One to whom goods are delivered in trust. Bankrupt. A person who, by reason of inability to meet his obligations, surrenders his property to his creditors and seeks the relief allowed him by law. At present there is no general law upon this subject, the laws of the several States regulating it. Bear. A stock exchange phrase used to designate a man who, having sold more stock then he pos sesses, endeavors to depress its value that he may buy at a low rate, and so make good his de ficiency. Bill of Exchange. An order drawn by a creditor upon his debtor demanding of him payment of a speci fied sum of money a* * d r .signated time. These bills are used for the settlement of accounts be tween parties separated by iong distances. The acceptance of such a bill renders it a binding obli gation upon the person upon whom it is drawn. Bill of Lading. A printed receipt given by the master of a vessel, or the agent of a transportation com pany, for freight shipped by such vessel or com pany. Bills of ladiug are usually given iu dupli cate. Such bill is evidence of the receipt of the freight by the carrier, and in case of the loss of the freight entitles the shipper to recover his in surance. Upon the presentation of a bill of lad ing at the point of destination, the carrier must deliver the freight to the person presenting the bill. Bills Discounted. Promissory notes, acceptances, or bills of exchange discounted for the accommoda tion of an indorser by bankers. Bills Payable. Promissory notes or drafts held by a merchant against others for future payment. Bills Receivable. Promissory notes or drafts due to a merchant by others. Bill of Rights. A bill permitting an importer to ex amine his goods at the custom-house. Bull. A stock exchange phrase designating a person who seeks to raise the value of stock he is operat- i ing in. bullion. Uncoined gold or silver, including gold dust, ingots or bars. 1aO Loan. Money loaned by a banker or other person, secured by the deposit of stocks, bonds, or other marketable securities, to be repaid when called foe. Capital. Money or property invested in business. Carat. Weight showing the degree of fineness of gold. Cargo. A ship's lading or freight. Carte blanche. Signature of an individual or individ uals on blauk paper with space above to write | note ; full power. Cashier. A cash-keeper ; the financial officer. Chancellor. A judge of a court of chancery or equity. Charter. A formal writing conferring title, right or privileges. Charter-party. A contract by which the whole or part of a vessel is let to a merchant or other person for the conveyance of goods on a particular voyage. Check. An order upon a bank, or banker, to pay cm demand to the person named in the check, or to his order, the sum of money specified in the body of the check in writing. Choses in action. Things of which the owner has not the possession, but merely the right of action for the possession, as notes, accounts, etc. Choses in possession. Things of which one hai pos session. Clearance. Certificate from the custom authoritifj, permitting a vessel to leave port. Clearing. Act of leaving port. Clearing-house. Place where banks exchange checks 01 drafts and settle their differences. Closed Policy. A policy in which the amount insured is definitely stated. Coasting. A sailing near land, or trade carried on be tween ports in the same country. C. O. D. Collect on Delivery. Goods sent by express marked in this way must be accompanied by the bill for them. This bill is collected and receipted by the messenger of the express company befoie delivering the goods. Codicil. A supplement to a will. Collaterals. A term used to designate stocks, bonds, of other securities deposited to secure the payment of loans. Commerce. Interchange of values or commodities. Commission. The percentage for buying or selling goods or stocks. Common law. In Great Britain and the United State*?, the unwritten law that receives its binding force from immemorial usage ; in distinction from writ ten or statute law. Compact. An agreement by which the parties arc firmly bound together. Company. An association of persons for a common enterprise. Compound. To settle on. ternia different from tbt original agreement MEANING OF TERMS USED IN BUSINESS. Compromise.- An amicable adjustment by mutual con cession. Common Carrier. One who makes it a business to transport goods ; railroad companies are common carriers. Consignee. The person to whom goods are sent or consigned. Consignment. Goods consigned or trusted to an agent to be sold. Consignor. One who commits or consigns goods to another. Consols. The three per cent, funded debts of England. Contraband. Prohibited ; illegal. Contract. An agreement based upon sufficient consid eration to do or not to do some particular thing. Condition precedent. A condition which must be carried out before the obligation is performed. Copartnership. Joint concern in business. Correspondence. An interchange of letters, or inter course. Counterfeit. A forgery ; spurious bank bills. Countersign. To sign, as secretary or subordinate officer, a writing which has been signed by the superior. Coupon. An interest certificate attached to a bond ; when paid, it is cut off. Covenant. A mutual agreement. Coverture. The state of a married woman. Credentials. Testimonials ; that which gives credit or authority. Currency. Money in current use. Customs. Duties on goods imported or exported. Custom House. The place where duties are paid, and vessels enter and clear. Damages. The amount assessed to pay for injury. Days of grace. Usually three days allowed for the payment of a note after maturity. Debenture. A certificate for bounty or rebate to be paid to the exporter of goods. Deb/. What one owes to another. Deed. A sealed instrument used in the conveyance of real estate. Defalcation. A deduction ; abatement or diminution, as in a promissory note. Defaulter. One who fails to pay or account for money intrusted to him. Delivery. To pass money or goods to another ; a giving. Demand. An asking by authority ; a claim by right. Demise. To convey ; to bequeath by will. Demurrage. Allowance for detention of a ship beyond a specified time. Demurrer. An assent to facts for an issue on law. Demurer. An exception to evidence produced; to rest or stay. Depositary. One to whom something is intrusted; a guardian. Deputy. One appointed to act for another ; a repre sentative. Direct Evidence. Evidence which applies directly to the fact to be proved. Discount. In mercantile transactions, a discount means a deduction of a certain amount from the face of a bill for cash. In banking, a discount means the deduction of a certain amount from the face value of a note or bill, as a payment for allowing the holder of the note the immediate use of the money ; the rate of discount varies. Dividend. A portion allotted to stockholders in divid ing the profits. Donee. One to whom a gift is made or a bequest i* given. Donor. One who gives or bestows. Dormant. Not acting ; a partner who takes no share in the active business of the concern, but shares in the gains or losses. Draft. A bill of exchange used for domestic purposes. Drawback. Duty refunded on exported goods. Drawee. One on whom a draft is drawn ; the payor. Drawer. One who draws a bill or draft. Duplicate. A copy or transcript of anything. Duress. Personal restraint, or fear of personal injury or imprisonment. It nullifies all contracts intv> which it enters. Earnest. A pledge, like money deposited, affords good grounds for reliance. Effects. Goods or property of any kind. Embargo. Prohibition of vessels from sailing. Embarrassment. Financial distress; on the verge of bankruptcy. Embassy. A public message or commission ; the per son by whom it is sent. Embezzlement. Unlawful appropriation of what is intrusted to one's care. Emporium. A commercial centre. Endorse. To write one's name on the back of a check note, or draft. Engross. To copy a manuscript. Equity. In law, qualifying or correcting the law in ex treme cases. Estate. The degree, quantity, nature, and extent o* interest which a person has in real property. Estoppel. In law, some previous act which estops o' precludes a man from making a given plea or pr*^ tence. Exchange. Act of bartering ; a bill drawn for money a place where merchants meet ; a difference be tween the value of money in two places, or ttte- premium and discount arising from the purchaa and sale of funds. Executor. One who settles the estate of a testator. Executory Yet to be performed. 363 BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. Exports. Goods or produce carried abroad in com merce. Express. A special messenger ; a regular conveyance for packages, etc. Face. The amount expressed on a note or draft. Factor. An agent to whom goods are consigned dif fers from broker in that the facto" 'ms the custody of the goods. Failure. Act of becoming insolvent. Fac Simile. An exact copy . Fancy Stocks. Term applied to stocks subject to sudden fluctuation in price. favor. A note or draft is said to be in favor of the payee. Fee Simple. An estate held by a person in his own right and descendible to his heirs. Finance. Revenue ; income ; pertaining to money. Financier. An officer of finance ; one having charge of the revenue. Firm. A partnership, trading house, or its natna. Fiscal. Pertaining to a treasury or revenue. Foreclose. To cut off the power of redemption under a mortgage. Forestall. To buy goods before they reach the market. Folio. Page of a book, usually the two opposite pages. Franc. A French silver coin, value about 20 cents. Frank. A free letter ; a writing which exempts from postage. Fraud. Artifice by which another's right or interest is impaired. Free Trade. The policy of conducting international commerce without duties. Freehold Land held by free tenure or in fee simple, subject to no superior or conditions. Freight. Goods being transported ; the price paid for transit orting ; to load a vessel. Funds. Stock or capital, a sum of money. Gain. Profit ; benefit ; increase in wealth. Gauging. Measuring the contents of casks, etc. Gist. The main point of a case ; the turning-point. Grant. Conveyance ; bestowment ; a thing conveyed by deed. Gross Weight. Weignt of goods, including case, bag, etc. guarantee or Guaranty. A surety for performance by a third person ; one who warrants. Guarantor. A warrantor. Habeas Corpus. A writ to deliver a person from false imprisonment. Harbor. A place of rest or safety for ships ; a port for loading and unloading. High Seas. Waters of the ocean outside of the juris diction of any country. Honor. To accept and pay when due. Hypothecate. To pledge as security. Import. To bring from another country, Importer. One who brings goods from abroad. Impost. Duty on goods paid by the importer. Indemnity. Recompense for injury or loss. Indenture. A writing containing a contract. Indorsement. A writing on the back of a note. In re. In the matter of. Insolvency. Inability to pay all debts. Insurance. Indemnity from loss ; the rate paid foi indemnity. Instalment. Part of a sum of money paid or to be paid from time to time. Interest. The use of money ; premium paid for the use of money. Intestate. Dying without making a valid will. Investment. The laying out of money in the purchase of property. Inventory. A list of goods. Invoice. A list of goods bought or sold, or consigned. Jettison. A voluntary throwing of goods overboard at sea in a storm to lighten ship. Jointure. An estate in lands settled on .a woman in consideration of marriage. Joint Stock. Property held in common by a company. Joint-tenancy. Joint occupancy ', not so close intimacy as partnership. Journal. A book used to classify and arrange business transactions. Judgment Note. A note in the usual form, with the addition of the power to confess judgment if not paid. Jurisdiction. The authority by which judicial officers take cognizance of and decide causes. Larceny. The taking of goods or other personal pro perty feloniously. Law-merchant. The general body of commercial us ages in matters relative to commerce. Lease. A letting of land, etc., for hire ; the writing or contract for such letting. Legacy. A bequest ; a particular thing or certain sum of money given by last will or testament. Ledger. Book of accounts. Lessee. One to whom a lease is made. Letters of Credit. A letter authorizing the holder to ic- ceive money en account of the writer. Liability. Debt or claim against a person. License. Legal permission to sell goods or to do cer tain things. Lien. A legal claim on property to satisfy debt. Liquidate. To pay off, as debts ; to settle or adjust accounts. Loan. To deliver to another, for temporary use ; the thing lent. Malfeasance. An act which one has no right to do. Mandatory. One to whom business is intrusted or charge given. Manifest. A list of articles comprising a vessel'* cargo. MEANING OF TERMS USED IN BUSINESS. Manufacture. The process of converting raw material into articles of use and sale. Margin. A sum of money deposited with a broker, in stock transactions, to protect him against loss by the depreciation of stocks held by him for another party. Also the difference between the value of securities deposited as collateral, and the amount loaned upon them. Marine. Relating to the sea. Maritime Law. Law relating to harbors, ships and seamen. Marc. A weight in European countries for estimating gold and silver ; a German gold coin equal to 23 &c. Mart. A place of public sale ; a market. Maturity. The date when a note or draft falls due or is payable. Maximum. The highest figure. Mercantile Law. Law relating to business transactions. Merger. The absorption of a thing of lesser import ance by a greater, whereby the lesser ceases to exist, but the greater is not increased. For in stance, a note on which a judgment is recovered is absorbed by and merged in the ju^^ment. Minimum. The lowest figure. Mint. The place where money is coined. Misfeasance. Doing in an improper manner, by which another receives an injury. Mitigation. Lessening the amount of a judgment, penalty, or punishment. Money. Current coin and circulating medium. Money Broker. A broker who deals in money or ex changes. Monopoly. The sole power of vending goods. Mortgage. The conveyance of real estate as collateral security of a debt. Mortgagee. The person to whom the conveyance ic made Mortagor. One who makes the mortgage. Negotiable. That may be transferred by endorsement and delivery, or by delivery alone. Negotiate. To transact business or treat with another respecting trade or treat}'. Net. Clear of all charges and deductions. Net Proceeds. The sum left after deducting commission or discount, etc. Won-ftasance. The non-performance of an act that should be done. Non-suit. Abandoning a case, usually by order of the court. Note. An obligation without a seal ; a written promise to pay Notary Public. An officer whose chief business it is to protest paper for non-payment. Open Policy. A policy upon which amounts yet to be ascertained and insured maybe entered at different times. 24 Ostensible Partners. Those whose names are mad* known to the public. Outstanding Debts. Those unpaid. Overt. Open to view, not secret, but manifest. Owe. To be indebted to, or bound to pay. Par. Equal value ; when market value equals face value. Partnership. Company ; union of two or more in business. Pawnbroker. One who lends money on pledge or deposit of goods. Pay. To recompense ; an equivalent given for goods. Payee. The party to whom payment is to be made. Payor. One who pays or is bound to pay. Pledge. A pawn ; a deposit as security. Policy of Insurance Contract between the insurer and the insured. Politic. According to good policy ; for the public good. Portage. The price of carrying ; cost paid by the cap tain for running his vessel. Premises. Things previously mentioned ; houses, lands, etc. Premium. The sum paid for insurance ; the excess of value above par. Price. Value set or demanded ; current value. Price Current. A table of the current price of mer chandise, stocks, bills of exchange, etc. Prima Facie. On the first view of tlie matter. Primage. A charge imposed in addition to the freight. Principal. An employer ; the head of a commercial house ; the sum loaned upon which interest is paid., Pro rata. According to the rate ; proportionately. Protest. A formal declaration made by a notary public for want of payment of ;, promissory note, or for want of acceptance OL payment of a bill of exchange. Quarantine. Restraint of intercourse to which a ship is subjected upon the supposition that she is infected with disease. Quotations. A statement of the prices of articles of merchandise, given for \-ie information of corres pondents. Rate. The proportion or standard. Rebatement. Deduction for prompt payment ; discount. Real Estate. Land, aud everything tnat legally passes with the land, in a conveyance or sale. Receipt. A writing acknowledging the taking of money or goods. Refund. To repay or pay back. Resources. Pecuniary means ; effects ; property. Resfiondential Bond. A pledge of a cargo at sea. Retail. To sell in small quantities. Revenue. Tax ; income ; rents ; customs and duties. Reversionary Interest. A riyjht to possession of property at the termination of certain period, or upon Uj^ death of the holder. 370 BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. Revocation. The recall of power or authority conferred, as the revocation of an agency. Salvage. A reward or recompense allowed by law for the saving of a ship or goods from loss at sea, either by shipwreck or other means. Scrip. Dividends issued by a stock company payab 1 e in stock. Scrip dividends are simply an increase of the capital of the company, as the stock issued to meet them is added to the capital, and in its turn is entitled to future dividends. Seaworthy. Fit for a voyage ; in a proper condition to venture at sea. Secondarily. Applied to the endorser of a note or the drawer of a bill, signifying that he is only condi tionally liable, or liable if the maker and drawee fail. Shipment. Goods ; act of shipping. Sight. The time of presenting a bill to the drawee. Signature. The peculiar style in which a person signs his name. Sinking Fund. A fund created by a government or corporation for the extinction of its indebtedness, by the gradual purchase of its outstanding obliga tions, and the application of the interest saved on these obligations thus redeemed to further purchases. Sleeping Partner. One who invests his capital in a business house, and shares the profits, but takes no part in the active management of it. Silent Partner. One who invests his capital in a busi ness house, but whose name does not appear in the firm. His liability is limited to the extent of his contribution, except in cases where he fails to make the proper publication of his connection with the concern. Solicitor. One who solicits ; a lawyer or advocate in a court of chancery. Solvency. Ability to pay all debts. Specialty. A writing sealed and delivered, containing some agreement. Statement. Usually a list of property, or resources and liabilities. Statistics. A collection of facts respecting any partic ular thing. Statute law. A law established by act of the legislative power. Stipend. Settled pay for services; daily, monthly or annual salary. Stipulation. An agreement or contract. Stocks. Shares in joint stock companies, and notes on the Government. Stock Broker or Jobber. One who speculates in stocks. Sue. To prosecute in law. Surety. Security against loss ; a person bound for the faithful performance of a contract by another- Tacit. That which is understood , implied. Tare. An allowance for weight of box, case, bag, casx, etc. , containing merchandise. Tariff. A list of prices ; duties on imports and exports. Tax. A rate or sum of money imposed on persons or property for public use. Tenants in common. Persons holding lands and tene ments by several and distinct titles, and not by H joint title. Tenant. One who holds property under another. Tenement. That which is held. Tender. To offer for acceptance. Legal tender is such money as the law prescribes shall pass current. Tenure. The mode in which one holds an estate in lands. Testator. The person who has made a valid will. Tickler. Name of a book kept by banks. Time draft. A draft maturing at a future specified time. Tonnage. Weight of .. ship's load ; capacity of * vessel. Transact. To perform any act of business ; to manage. Transfer. To convey ; to sell or alienate title. Treasury. A place where public money is kept. Trustee. One to whom some special trust is assigned. Uncurrent Not passing in common payment, ai . s. d. in the United States. Underwriter. An insurer ; so called because he under writes his name to the conditions of the policy. Usage of Trade. Custom, or the frequent repetition of the same act in business transactions. Usance. A fixed time on bills of exchange ; business habit generally acted upon from force of custom. Usury. Excess of interest over the amount allowed by law. Valid. Of binding force ; strong ; effectual. Value. The rate of worth or amount or price of a commodity. Vend. To sell ; to transfer for a pecuniary considera tion. Vendee. The person to whom a thing is sold. Versus . Against. Void Having no binding force or effect. Voidable. That which has some force or effect, bus which, in consequence of some inherent quality, may be annulled or avoided. Voucher. A paper that confirms anything, particularly the truth of accounts. Wages. Compensation for services. Waiver. The relinquishment or refusal to accept a? a right. Wares. Goods ; merchandise ; commodities. Warrant. To invest with authority to arrest a person; to insure against defects. Wharfage. Money paid for use of a wharf or dock. Wharfinger. The owner or k^per o/ a CHAPTER XXIX. Business Rules and Laws for Dailv Use, IB need of a compendium of rules and laws required in daily business is evident For want of this men have u> consult lawyers and pay fees, where as, if they had at hand just the information which this chapter furnishes in a plain, condensed form, they would save themselves much trouble and expense. You find here in a nut-shell what you would have to wade through many volumes to obtain, and are furnished with legal knowledge which is of inestimable service to every man doing business. Many mistakes may be avoided by con sulting the maxims and laws here laid down. COXCISE BUSINESS RULES. The intelligent and upright business man regulates his conduct by fixed principles and established methods. He is not the creature of impulse or caprice. 1. He is strict in keeping his engagements. 2. He does nothing carelessly or hurriedly. 3. He does not entrust to others what he can easily do himself. 4. He does not leave undone what should and can be done. 5. While frank with all, keeps his plans and views largely to himself. 6. Is prompt and decisive in his dealings, and don't overtrade. 7. Prefers short credits to long ones; and cash to credit always. 8. Is clear end explicit in his bargains. 9. Doesn't leave to memory what should be in vriting. 10. Keeps Copies of all important letters sent, and files carefully all papers of value. 11. Doesn't allow his desk to be littered, but keeps it tidy and well arranged. 12. Aims to keep everything in its proper place. 13. Keeps the details of his business well in hand, &,(! under his own eye. 14. Believes that those whose credit is suspected * not to be trusted. 15. Often examines his books and knows ho\y Le stands. 16. Has stated times for balancing his books, toad sending out accounts that are due. 17. Never takes money risks that can be avoided, and shuns litigation. 18. Is careful about expenses, and keeps within his income. 19. Doesn't postpone until to-morrow what can as well be done to-day. 20. Is extremely careful about endorsing for ay one. 21. To claims of real need he responds generously. CONCISE BUSINESS LAWS. The following compilation of business law contal> the essence of a large amount of legal verbiage : 1. If a note is lost or stolen, it does not release tit- maker ; he must pay it, if the consideration for which it was given and the amount can be proven. 2. Notes bear interest only when so stated. 3. Principals are responsible for the acts of thtb agents. 4. Each individual in a partnership is responsib?* for the whole amount of the debts of the firm, excopt in cases of special partnership. 5. Ignorance of the law excuses no one. 6. The law compels no one to do impossibilities. 7. An agreement without consideration is void. 8. A note made on Sunday is void. 9. Contracts made on Sunday cannot be enforced. 10. A note by a minor is voidable. A contract mad . with a minor is void. n. A contract made with a lunatic is void. 12. A note obtained by fraud, or from a person in * state of intoxication, cannot be collected. 13. It is a traud to conceal a fraud. 14. Signatures made with a lead-pencil are good ir law. 15. A receipt for money is not always conclusive. 16. The acts of one partner bind all the rest. 17. The maker of an "accommodation " bill or note (one for which he has received no consideration, hav ing lent his name or credit for the accommodation of the holder) is not bound to the person accommodated, 372 BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. but Is bouud to all other parties, precisely as if there was a good consideration. 18. No consideration is sufficient iu law if it be illegal In its nature. 19. Checks or drafts must be presented for payment without unreasonable delay. 20. Checks or drafts should be presented during busi ness hours ; but in this country, except in the case of banl s, the time extends through the day and evening. 21 . If the drawee of a check or draft has changed his residence, the holder must use due and reasonable dili gence to find him. 22. If one who holds a check, as payee or otherwise, transfers it to another, he has a right to insist that the check be presented that day, or, at farthest, on the day following. 23. A note indorsed in blank (the name of the in- dorscr only written) is transferable by delivery, the name as if made payable to bearer. 24. If time of payment of a note is not named, it is payable on demand. 25. The time of payment of a note must not depend upon a contingency. Thi promise must be absolute. 26. A bill may be written upon any kind of paper, either with ink or pencil. 87. The payee should be named in tht note, unless it is payable to bearer. 28. An indorsee has a right of action against all whose names were on the bill when he received it. 29. If the letter containing a protest of non-pay ment be put into the post-office, any miscarriage does not affect the party giving notice. Notice of protest may be sent either to the place of business or of resi dence of the party notified. 30. The holder of a note may give notice of protest aither to all the previous indorsees or only to one of them ; in case of the latter he must select the last in- dorser, and the last must give notice to the last before him, and so on. Each indorser must send notice the same day or the day following. Neither Sunday nor any legal holiday is counted in reckoning time in which notice is to be given. 3. The loss of a note is hot sufficient excuse for not tice of protest. 32. If two or more persons, as partners, are jointly liable on a note or bill, due notice to one of them i sufficient. 33. If a note or bill is transferred as security , or even as payment of a pre-existing debt, the debt revives if the note or bill be dishonored. 34. An indorsement may be written on the face or back. 35. An indorser may prevent his own liability to be sued by writing "without recourse" or similar words. 36. An oral agreement must be proved by evidence. A written agreement proves itself. The law prefers written to oral evidence, because of its precision. 37. No evidence can be introduced to contradict or vary a written contract; but it may be received in order to explain it, when such explanation is needed. 38. Written instruments are to be construed and interpreted by the law according to the simple, cus tomary and natural meaning of the words used. 39. The finder of negotiable paper, as of all other property, must make reasonable efforts to find the owner, before he is entitled to appropriate it for his own purposes. If the finder conceal it, he is liable to the charge of larceny or theft. 40. Joint payees of a bill or note, who are not part ners, must all join in an indorsement. 41. One may make a note payable to his own order and indorse it in blank. He must write his name across its back or face, the same as any other indorser. 42. After the death of a holder of a bill or note, his executor or administrator may transfer it by his indorsement. 43. The husband who acquires a right to a bill or note which was given to the wife, either before or after marriage, may indorse it. 44. "Acceptance" applies to bills and not to notes. It is an engagement on the part of the person on whom the bill is drawn to pay it according to its tenor. The usual way is to write across the face of the bill the word "accepted." 45. An account outlawed according to statute of state where it is contracted cannot b. collected unless judgment note has been given. CHAPTER XXX. Book-keeping. j^T VERY boy should learn book-keeping. The system of book-keeping herewith pre C\*)) I s there any good reason why every sented, is that taught in Peirce's Business girl should not learn book-keeping College, Philadelphia, which is considered also? A practical knowledge of accounts the leading institution of its kind in the and of the various forms used in business, United States. The publishers of this work ought to be acquired by every individual. acknowledge Mr. Peirce's courtesy in placing For the want of such knowledge, mistakes at their disposal the system taught in his and blunders are constantly occurring. Every college, a knowledge ot which can be gained household should have its accountant by any one, and will be found invaluable. SIGNS AND ABBREVIATIONS USED IN BUSINESS. Acct. Account C, B. Cash Book 4d lib. At pleasure CAW. Charged Admr. Administrator Ck. Check Admjc. Administratrix C. L. Car load Adv. Adventure C. O. D. Collect on delivery As*. Agent Co. Company Ami. Amount Coll. Collateral Ans. Answer Col. Collection A. D. In the year of ou\ Lord Const. Consignment A. M. In the year of the World Com. Commission A. AT. Before noon Morning Con. Contra Apr. April Cr. Creditor Ass/. Assistant Os. Cents Asstd. Assorted D. B. Day Book Aug. August Dep. Deposit Ave. Avenue Dec. December BaL. Balance Deft. Defendant Bdt. Boards Dft. Draft Bgs. Bags Dis. Discount Bbl. Barrel D. i. Double first class Bk. Bank Do. Ditto the same B. B. Bill Book Doz. Dozen Blk. Black Dr. Debtor Bh. Bales Dray. Drayage Bot. Bought D's. Days Bro. Brother Ea. Each Brot. Brought E. E. Errors excepfcd JSu. Bushel E. & O. E. Errors and omission* Bxs. Boxes excepted Bills Rec. or B{R Bills Receivable Eng. English Bills. Pay. or BjP Bills Payable Enfd. Entered Cap. Capital Et al. And others 573 374 Ex. Exch Rxp. Ex. ret* Few. Pel. f. o. 6. Fol. For'd. Frt. Gal. Gro. Gt. Gm Gttar. Hhd. Hund. I.B. Ib. Id. I.E. Ins. fnst. Int. Invl. Jan. J. o. A J.F. Jour. L.B. L. C.L. L.F. Us. Mar. Mdse. Mem. Messrs. Mo. Nat. N.B. No. N. O.& Nov. 0. C. Oct. O.R. Oz. P. Per. Percent Per am Payt. P. <* 3> fa. Pkg. P.&L. YV, BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS, Example Exchange Expense At the information of Favor Feoruary Free on board Folio Forward Freight Gallon Gross Great Gross Guaranteed Hogshead Hundred Invoice Book Ibid in the same place Idem the same Id est That is Insurance Instant the present month Interest Inventory January Journal Day Book Journal Folio Journal Letter Book Less than Carloads Ledger Folio Pounds March Merchandise Memorandum Gentlemen Sirs Month National Nota Bene Take notice Number (Numero) Not otherwise specified November Overcharge October Owner's Risk Ounce Page By Sy the hundred By the year Payment Pretty Cash Book Paid Package Front and Loss Pair P.S. Pi. Pretu. Pres. Prox. Ptff. Reed. R.R. S.B. Shipt. Sept. St. St.Dfl. S.S. SSorss. Sq.ft. Sq.yds. Sunls. T. B. Trans. Ult. Vts. Vs. W.B. Wk. m. Yds. Yr. $ t s. d. I B\L C/O O.K. M. &c. & V * Postcript Pieces Premium President Proximo thtt next mouth Plaintiff Received Railroad Sales Book Shipment September Street Sight draft Steamship That is to say Square feet Square yards Sundries Trial Balance Transaction Ultimo the last month Namely Versus against Way bill Week Weight Yards Year Dollars Cents Pound Sterling Shillings Pence Used for shillings, a* 3/6 = 33. 6d. At or to Account Bill of lading Care of All correct Ditto One thousand Per cent Per or by And so forth And Check mark Number or pounds. (Number when placed b fore a figure, /<><& whe# placed after) Four quarter one yard One and one-fourth One and one-half One and three-fourth* BOOK-KEEPING. 375- fir THE BUSINESS MAM ~~LJKTCi2i EIQHT PERIODS OF HUMAN UFfi. BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. METHOD OF KEEPING BOOKS. BOOK-KEEPING is the science of accounts. Book-keeping, like Banking, was first used in Italy. Two distinct methods are in use : book-keeping by single entry and book-keep ing by d* uble entry. HEAD FOR BUSINESS. SINGLE ENTRY shows one's standing with the individual, firm or corporation with whom he has transacted business, and it does that as well as double entry ; but it does not go beyond that DOUBLE ENTRY, and double entry alone, exhibits the relation of the business man to the kinds of property possessed, and the loss or gain made upon each kind, and without the aid of anything else than the taking of the account of stock ; the Ledger, by double entry, exhibits all the facts of the case. In double entry, accounts are not only with persons, but with all kinds of property, etc. The amounts which are placed on the debit side of one account must be placed on the credit side of another account. This is the fundamental principle of double entry book-keeping, for there cannot be a debit without a corresponding credit, and vice versa. Single entry is without the advantage of the check furnished by the Trial Balance used in Double entry. When one desires his> Ledger closed, to see where he stands and how he has reached his present position, if his Ledger has been kept by single entry it will furnish only two schedules or lists, the one consisting of the names of individuals, firms, or corporations owing him, and the other consisting of the names of individuals, firms or corporations to whom he is in debt All other facts needed in the determination of his condition must be ascertained outside of the Ledger. DEBITS are entries upon the left hand or charge side of an account of business trans actions. CREDITS are entries upon the right hand or discharge or trust side of an account of business transactions. I A BUSINESS TRANSACTION is an exchange of values. ACCOUNTS. ACCOUNTS are of two kinds : Speculative and Non-speculative. SPECULATIVE ACCOUNTS show losses and gains, and include such accounts as: Mer chandise, Real Estate, Railroad Str?k, Ex pense, etc. * NON-SPECULATIVE ACCOUNTS show Re sources and Liabilities on which, from their nature, can be neither increase or decrease of value, such as Cash, Bills Receivable, etc., and on which there is neither loss nor gain, unless it arises incidentally, in the case of a failure of the individual, firm, or corpora tion in debt, or loss of cash, by thef- or fire BOOKS OF ACCOUNT, BOOKS OF ACCOUNT are the various books in which entries of business transactions are made, and are of three kinds : Books of Ori ginal Entry, Auxiliary Books and Books of Subsequent Entry. BOOKS OF ORIGINAL ENTRY are those in which the business transaction is recorded at the time of its occurrence, and from which is taken, directly or indirectly, to the Ledger: as the Day Book, Cash Book, Invoice Book, Sales Book, etc. AUXILIARY BOOKS aid materially in giv ing the particulars and details of a trans action. They comprise the Bank Book, Bill Book, Draft Book, Note Book, Order Book, Ticker, etc. BOOKS OF SUBSEQUENT ENTRY are the Journal and Ledger. The Journal is some times used to prepare the entries for the Ledger, in which are collected together in one place, under their appropriate heads, ?\l debits and credits of like character. BILJLS AND BOOKS OF ORIGINAL, ENTRY. The proper making of bills of goods is a very important feature of counting-house duty, and the recording of business trans actions in books of original entry is of great importance. The requisites of a proper book of original entries are : First. That the book is the original book of entries, and not one in which the entries are transcribed from another book. Second. That they shall be properly de tailed and not lumped, giving such items of account, prices and kinds of goods that the party shall be able to tell what he is charged with. Third. That the entries charge the parties by name with sufficient definiteness to indi vidualize the party charged, and to distin guish him from every one else. Fourth That the entries are made for goods sold and delivered, or work and labor done in the usual course of business. Fifth. That the respective dates of the entries are piven. BOOK-KEEPING. Sixth. 3/7 That the entries are made at CM about the time the goods are set apart for delivery, or are delivered, or the work il finished. HEAD FOR MECHANICS DAY BOOK. The book of original entry is the Da/ Book, or a subdivision of it. There should be entered into it, or its subdivision a concise and comprehensive history of the merchant's business transactions, and they should be so- carefully and clearly made that one familiar with business affairs, although an entire stranger to these particular transactions, would understand them fully by merely reading the record of them. If mistakes are made, either in words 01 figures, they should be cancelled by drawing lines of red ink through the mistake, anc should not under any circumstances be erased. As books of original entry only art allowed in cases of litigation, it becomes mor< important that erasures should nof be made in them. The Day Book is rarely ever usea in *> 378 BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. business by itself. The keeping of a Cash Book is strongly urged, no matter how limited the business in either number or volume of transactions, and, when kept, to use it only for '"be receipt or disbursement of cash. THE CASH BOOK. May bj denned as that part of the Day Book, or thai: branch of the Day Book, into which is entered all cash received. HEAD FOR BOOKS. If the books of original entry are limited to the Cash Book and Day Book, the rule of classification to be followed in making entries in them is this : Enter into the Cash Book all Cash received and all Cash paid out, and enter everything else into the Day Book. In very many businesses it is very desira ble that there should be kept, in some way, an Invoice Book and a Sales Book. THE INVOICE BOOK. Is that branch or department of the Day Book into which purchases of Merchandise are entered. When it is necessary to keep an Invoice Book, it is also necessary to keep a SALES BOOK. This is a subdivision or part of the Day Book, into which are entered all sales of Merchandise made by the merchant A Sales Book is sometimes made out of an ordi nary letter copying book, into which, by an ordinary letter press, a copy of every bill sent by the merchant to his customers is taken, and from the Sales Book the charges and credits are taken to the Ledger. When the books of original entry em brace Cash BOOK, Day Book, Invoice Book and Sales Book, there should be entered into the Cash Book, as above, all moneys received and all moneys paid out, and into the In voice Book all Merchandise bought, and into the Sales Book all Merchandise sold, and into the Day Book every other kind of business transacted. Sometimes the Bill Book is used as a book of original entry. When so used it ceases to be an Auxiliary Book and becomes a branch or division of the Day Book, into which are entered all Bills Receivable received and Bills Payable issued. Under such circum stances the Day Book would not be used for the reception and issuing of promissoiy notes and acceptances. Transactions to be recorded tn books of original entry when tfie Day Book and Cash Book only are kept. February 3, 1888. Commenced business with a Cash Capital of $2500. Bought of John B. Ellison & Sons 350 yds. Black Diagonal Cloth, @ $2.25 = $787.50. Gave them my note, @ 90 days, for amount of their bill, $787.50. Sold T. J. Barlow 50 yds. Diagonal, @ $ 2.75 = $137.50. Received from him, cash, $137.50. Paid Rent pf Store for one month, in advance, $125. Paid for Postage, $10. The day-book items above would appear in the Day Book as follows : BOOK-KEEPING. PHILADELPHIA, FEBRUARY 3, 189 379 > ^ Commenced business this day with a cash Capital of $2500 / / 787 787 137 50 50 50 Bought of John B. Ellison & Sons, on 90 days' note, 350 yds. Black Diagonal Cloth, @ $2.25 / / Gave John B. Ellison & Sous my note at 90 days for invoice of this date. f f Sold T. J. Barlow, for cash, 50 yds. Black Diagonal, @ $2.75 The cash items in the above set of transactions would appear in the Cash Book as follows : DI. CASH. CASH. Cr. 189 Feb. 3 5 / To Student " T. J. Barlow amount Invested bill of Date 2500 137 00 50 2637 50 189 Feb. 3 ,? By Expense Kxpense " Balance rent for i month postage "5 10 oo oo 135 2502 To Balance 2637 50 2637 i9 i*rb. y 2502 5" The books of every business man should faithfully reflect his monetary transactions. It is one of the achievements of a perfect system of book-keeping that it chronicles it Some mercantile accounts are contin ually and almost hopelessly muddled. There is no necessity for this, and, besides, it is disastrous to all business success. The old-fashioned, country store-keeper used to carry his accounts in his head, or kept them with a piece of chalk on the cellar door. He was a man to be laughed at, not to be imitated. all the transactions of an individual or firm, and does it so effectively that the exact state of affairs can be made known any day. Thera must be clear ideas as to what needs to be done, and the strictest fidelity in doing Transactions to be entered in books of original entry, comprising Cash Book, Invoice Book, Sales Book and Day Book. "March i, 189 . Invested in business, Cash, $2000. Bought of Camden Woolen Mills, 650 yards of Cassi- me,<;s, @ $1-75 = $i i37>_5o. Gave them cash, on account, $537.50, and my note, @ 60 days, for balance, $600. Paid one month's Rent, in advance, $100. Paid for Stationery, $12.50. Sold to John Stilz & Son 200 yds Cassi- mercs, @ $2.25 = $450. Received in cash, on account, $200, and their note, @ 10 days, for $250. Bought of Wendell, Fay & Co. 500 yds. Black Serge, @ $2.25 $1125. Gave them cash, on account, $625, and my note, @ 30 days, for $500. Sold to Hughes & Miller, 250 yds. Serge, $2.75 = $687.50. Received from them, , $687.50. 380 BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. The cash items in preceding transactions would appear in Cash Book as follows: Dr. CASH. CASH. 6V. 189 I8q I Mar. ii i 5 7 7 To Student " J. Stilz & Son " Hughes & Miller investment on account bill of Date 2OOO OO 200 00 68750 a88 7 50 Mar. i 8 9 9 10 By C. W. Mills " Expense " Expense " Wendell Fay & Co on account rent stationery on account 537 5 IOO 00 12,50 625:00 " " " Balance '275 1612 2887 50 2887 189 Mar. To Balance 1612 5 The purchases mentioned above would appear in the Invoice Book as follows: PHILADELPHIA, MARCH i, 189 . Camden Woolen Mills 650 yds. Cassimere, @ $i-75 , "37 1125 50 oo Wendell, Fay & Co. 500 yds. Black Serge, @ $2.25 The sales mentioned above would appear in the Sales Book as follows: PHILADELPHIA, MARCH i, 189 . Jno. Stilz & Son 200 yds. Cassimere, @ $2.25 / f 450 687 oo 5 Hughes & Miller 250 yds. Serge, @ $2.75 Those items mentioned above, which do not appear in the Cash Book, Invoice Book and Sales Book, would be entered in the Day Book as follows: PHILADELPHIA, MARCH i, 189 . Gave Caniden Woolen Mills my note, @ 60 days, to balance their bill this date / / ( i Received from John Stilz & Son their note, @ todays, for balance of bill of this date / / Gave Wendell, Fay & Co. my note, @ 30 days, to balance their account 600100 2.SOOO 30000 BOOK-KEEPING. THE JOURNAL. Is a book in which the debits and credits of transactions appearing in the books of origi nal entry may be written before they are taken to the Ledger, and it is also used for die recording of debits and credits needed in closing the Ledger. The writing of debits and credits in the Journal is called Journalizing. DAY-BOOK JOURNAL. The Day Book and the Journal are fre quently combined in a book called the Day Book-journal, in which the Day Book entry is written and journalized immediately un derneath, and the amounts extended in the money columns as in the Journal, the money 'Columns in the Day Book-Journal being used '.for debits and credits instead of for items and Co., Edward H. Morris* 3^27 Market Street, Phila. No. j i. Due 6/2817 1 1 j after sight pay to the order efBerwind, White &* Co _..... .,. Four hundred and Thirty J *fa Dollars^ value received, and charge same to account of To Geo. W. Pine, Samuel W. Heat. 1033 Chestnut St., Phila. No. 23. Due Indorsement on face of draft. Accepted June 5, r8o . Payable at Girard National Bank. GEO. W. PINE. Received and disposed of negotiable Promissory notes and acceptances as follows: June 14, 189 .Received of Jno. W. Boughton his note at 30 days, dated to-day, for $300. Received of /oa. Hoffman his draft at 30 days' sight, drawn on and accepted by Jas. Vincent for $250. Received of John Moore his note at 60 days, dated to-day, for $450. Received of John Ray his draft on Jno. P. Orne at 30 days after date, accepted by Orne, for $700. Discounted at College Bank, Jno. W. Boughton 's note of this date, for $300. Gave Allen, Scott & Co., on account, John Moore's note of this date, for $450. July lyth. Received Cash from Jno. F. Orne for his acceptance of Jno. Ray's draft of June I4th, due to me, $700. This will appear in Bills Receivable Account of the ledger as follows: Dr. RECEIVABLE. Cr. 189 I 189 i Jane 14 41 To J. W. Boughton " Jos. Hoffman 14 300 250 oo oo June ii 14 By Cash " A. Scott ACo. 14 300 45 oo oo M " " Jno. Moore M 450 oo July i? " Cash 14 700 oo M 14 " Jno. Ray 14 700 00 31 " Balance 250 oo 1700 oo 1700 oo i 89 31 To Balance 250 oo i 388 BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. It will be noticed that Bills Receivable Account is always debited when notes and accepted drafts payable to the merchant or business man are received and credited whenever such notes and accepted drafts are transferred to others. BILLS PAYABLE ACCOUNT. A Bill Payable is a written obligation for the unconditional payment of a certain sum of money at a specified time to a certain person, his order or bearer, without interest, issued by one and payable by him by virtue of his written promise contained in it. It has to some extent the force of a note, given over the signature of the one who is obli gated to the amount named in the note. Bills Payable Account is credited when one issues, either in the form of a promissory note, or of an acceptance of a time draft drawn upon him, such a written obligation, and it is debited when one redeems such obligations. The language of a Bills Payable is the same as that of a Bills Receivable. It is called a Bills Payable when one is uncondi tionally liable as maker or acceptor of the obligation, and it is called a Bills Receivable when it is held by some other person than the maker or acceptor. The same note or acceptance has both names applied to it ; that is, it is both a Bills Receivable and a Bills Payable. It is a Bills Payable only to one person. All other persons who may become holders of it, call it a Bills Receiv able. The name is not applied because the note or acceptance is received by the mer chant, or parted with by him, but the name arises from the relation which the holder bears to the note or acceptance. If, as above stated, the relation be that of payor of the note or acceptance when due, the payor will call it a Bills Payable, and all other persons who may have handled the note or accept ance call it a Bills Receivable. STORE FIXTURES ACCOUNT. A storekeeper needs shelving, counters, desks, a fireproof safe, etc., and when he pur chases such property for his own use, he does not charge it to Merchandise, because he does not buy the shelving, etc., for the purpose of selling it, nor would it be just tc his business to pay for such property and call it an expense of business ; for, if he should sell out, these fixtures would constitute a valuable piece of property, which he could sell to his succes sor, or, if he were to go out of business, they could be sold to a dealer in fixtures. The rule requiring a separate account to be kept of fixtures, in distinction from merchandise is very serviceable and should be observed. Again, if the business man was not a store- keeper 5 but a manufacturer, he would need to buy machinery, tools, etc., and 'n some departments of business this account ,vould be called " Machinery and Tools." Store Fixtures, or Machinery and l^ools, or Furniture, would be debited for the full value of all such property purchased, and would be credited in case any of it should ever be sold. These are Speculative Accounts and must be credited with the amount of Inventory of Stock on hand in each, and the accounts then closed into Loss and Gain. After closing and ruling these accounts, they must be debited "To Inventory" for the amount of the stock on hand. Store Fixtures Purchased and Sold. March 9, 189 . Bought of Amos Hillborn & Co. Office Desks and Chairs, costing $150. Bought from Marvin Safe Co. one large double Fireproof Safe, $225. Bought of Cornelius & Co. Gas Fixtures for office, $60. Wm. C. Merritt has put up Shelving and Counters and sent me his bill, amounting to $85. July 5, 189 .Sold for Cash, to a dealer, my Office Desks for $60. Bought of Hall & Garrison new double Desk, $50. BOOK-KEEPING. This will appear in a Store Fixtures Account of the Ledger as follows: Dr. STORE; FIXTURES. Cr. 189 189 Mar. 9 To A. Hillborn & Co. 19 ISO 00 July 5 By Cash 19 60 oo i< " Marvin Safe Co. 19 225 oo ii " " Cornelius & Co. 19 60 00 ii " W. C. Merritt *9 85 00 July 5 " Hall & Garrison 19 50 00 EXPENSE ACCOUNT. This is an account which enables a busi ness man to gather together all the running expenses of his business in one place for any given period. It informs him of the outgo, while other accounts show ^"Ji what the income and profit are. It is debited for all moneys paid, or liabil ities incurred, from which no direct return is expected, as, for instance, rent of store, hire of clerks, advertising, etc. Under this general head or account is cnarged up on the debit side everything that is expended in the conduct of the business, except that spent for the commodities in which one deals, and such matters as have been pre viously described as Store Fixtures, or Machinery and Tools, etc., or Furniture. It is frequently subdivided. If one desires to know just how much is spent for rent, he opens a Rent Account and charges that account with the money either paid for rent, or owed for rent, and does not put it in Expense Account. If, for any reason, the merchant desires to know how much he is spending; for clerk hire, he opens an account called Salary Account or Clerk Hire Account If one desires to know how much he is spending for Postage, he may open a Post age Account, and not charge postage until the end of the year, when he would debit Expense for the whole sum. In general, it may be said that where the amounts spent for a particular kind of expense are large, it is good usage to open a specific account for that kind of expense, leaving the Expense Account to be charged only with those things which cannot be very well individ ualized, and which would not amount to any considerable sum in a year. Expense is a Speculative Account, and closes into Loss and Gain. REAL ESTATE ACCOUNT. This is the name of a Ledger Account to which is charged the cost of all Real Estate, consisting either of land or buildings, or both. It is frequently the case that a book keeper has as many Real Estate Accounts as there are independent properties possessed, and they are distinguished one from another by words in the title of the account denot ing the Reality, or previous owners of the property. Real Estate Account is debited with its cost, with repairs and all taxes. It is credited for the sales and for all rents received. DISCOUNT AND INTEREST ACCOUNT. This account is debited for all moneys which one pays for money borrowed, and for all discounts allowed debtors on their bills for payment of the same before maturity. It is credited for all moneys received for the loan of money, or for discounts allowed by creditors for the payment of bills before maturity. The importance of this account will be seen when we consider that a large part of business is carried on by loans and discounts. It is a Speculative Account^ and closes into LOSS and Gain. ' 390 BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. Discounts received and alloived, and transactions with others involving interest. June i, 189 . Received from J. B. Lippincott Co. an allowance of 5 per cent, for cash payment of bill of May 28, $13.93. Allowed Granville B. Haines & Co., 3 per cent, discount for cash settlement of bill of May 21, $48.37. Paid Guarantee Trust Co. 4 months' interest on my loan from them of $5000, $100. The College Bank charged me for discounting a bill receivable for $900, @ 3 months, $14. 10. I discounted for R. J. Allen his note for $1000, and charged him discount of $15. This would appear in Discount and Interest Account of the Ledger as follows : Dr. DISCOUNT AND INTEREST. Cr. 139 189 I rat June w T To G. B. Haines & Co. " Guarantee Trust Co. 27 27 48 IOO 37 00 June I ByJ. B. I/ippincottCo " Cash 27 27 13 15 93 00 11 " Cash 27 14 IO Debits show the merchant what borrowing money and collecting his bills before maturity has cost him. Credits show the merchant what he has made by loaning money and paying his bills before maturity. When closing the Ledger, Material Ac count must be credited for the amount of material on hand as shown by the Inventory, and then both of these accounts (Material and Labor) should be closed into Mer chandise Account. They are Non-speculative Accounts, and are kept so as to make clear just how much of the cost of the manufactured article arises from labor, and how much from raw material. MATERIAL ACCOUNTS AND LABOR ACCOUNTS. In a manufacturing business, instead of charging directly to the Merchandise Account the cost of production, it fe a well-approved custom to open a Material Account to which is charged the cost of the raw material, and to open a Labor Account to which is charged the wages expended upon the manufacture of the goods. Purchases of Raw Material. June 16, 189 . Bought of E. A. Greene & Co. 6000 Ibs. Mestizo Wool, @ 28c. = $1680. Bought of Sheble & Hill lo.ooolbs. Common Domestic Wool, @ 2oc. = $2000. This would appear in Material Account of the Ledger as follows : Dr. MATERIAL ACCOUNT. Or. 189 189 June T6 To E. A. Greene & Co. 29 1680 oo July i By Mdse. 29 3680 00 " " Sheble & Hill 29 2OOO oo 3680 oo 3680 CXJ Payments to Artisans for Piecework! June 16, 189 . Paid Geo. Doll, for week's work at loom, $13. Paid Jos. Cook, for loom work, $14.50. Paid And. Wagner, for designs for carpets, $35.25. This would appear in the Labor Account of the Ledger as follows : Dr. LABOR ACCOUNT. Cr. *t*r 189 tone M 16 ii To Geo. Doll " Jos. Cook 29 29 13 14 00 50 July i By Mdse. 29 62 75 t " Andrew Wagner 29 35 25 _____ ' " 62 75 62 75 BOOK-KEEPING. CAPITAL ACCOUNT. The Capital Account is variously named by book-keepers. By some the name of the Proprietor of the business is used ; by others the word "Stock," and some call it the Cap ital Account. The name Stock is quite aged, but it is often misunderstood by learners as having something to do with the stock of goods on hand when the Inven tory is taken. The use of the name of the Proprietor as a caption for this account is growing in favor, and where there is more than one proprietor it is positively necessary that the names of the proprietors should be used. This account is debited for "his liabilities and credited for his resources t. ., the time of beginning business, it is also debited for any withdrawals of capital made by the proprie tor and credited for any additional invest ments made by him ; but if the withdrawals made by him are for personal expenses, they should be kept in a personal expense account until the closing of the Ledger, and should then be charged up to the Capital Account 391 in one lump sum. It is also debited at the time of settling the business for the net loss, if one has been made, or credited with the net gain found to have been made at the time of settling business. In some cases this account is credited with interest on investments, and debited for interest on withdrawals. In other cases no investments are to be accounted for. The net capital invested in the business is found by subtracting the sum of the debits from the sum of the credits. It is what the business owes the proprietor, because it is the amount by which the resources exceed the liabilities. In an adverse condition of business the sum of the debits may be the larger. If so, it shows net insolvency, which is the amount that the proprietor needs to put into the business to enable the debts to be paid. The net capital is shown by the entry "To Balance" above the ruling, and net insolvency is shown by the entry "By Balance" above the ruling. Capital Account is a Not*-speculative Account. Transactions which belong- in the Capital Account. January I, 189 . J. F. Morris and A. B. Lewis have formed a copartnership, under the firm name of Morris & Lewis. Morris invests Merchandise tc the amount of $1500 ; Cash, $2000 ; Bills Receivable, $1000. The business is to pay off certain of his promissory notes, to the amount of $500, and amounts which he owes Terry & Co., $600, and Folwell Bros. & Co., $400. The net amount invested by him is, therefore, $3000. A. B. Lewis invests : Cash, $2000; Merchandise, $2500; Bills Receivable, $2000, and the business is to pay off certain of his promissory notes to the amount of $ 1200. His net investment is, therefore, $5300. July i, 189 . The business is settled, showing a net gain of $6800, one-half of which goes to Lewis and one* half to Morris. This would appear in the proprietors' Capital Accounts of the Ledger as follows: Dr. J. F. MORRIS (CAPITAI, ACCOUNT). Cr. 189 1 189 Jan T To Bills Payable 32 500 oo Jan. i By Mdse. 31 1500 00 14 " " Terry & Co. 32 600 oo " " Cash 31 2000 00 " " Folwell, Bro. & Co. 32 400 00 < (t ' Bills Receivable V IOOO 00 July I " Balance 6400 oo July i " Loss and Gain 32 3400 00 7900 00 7900 oo 189 July i By Balance 6400 oo 392 Dr. BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. A. B. LEWIS (CAPITAI, ACCOUNT). Cr. 189 189 Jan. i To Bills Payable 32 1 200 oo Jan. i By Cash 32 2OOO OO July i " Balance 8700 oo " " " Mdse. 32 25OO 00 . " " Bills Receivable 32 2000 00 ____ " July i " Loss and Gain 32 3400 00 9900 00 9900 00 189 July i By Balance 8700 00 This account will be debited for the business man's liabilities, withdrawals, etc., for the net loss, and sometimes for interest on withdrawals. It is credited for investments of all sorts, net gain, and sometimes interest on investments. PERSONAL, EXPENSE ACCOUNT, OB PRIVATE ACCOUNT. This account is debited for what the busi ness man takes out for his personal use, or for the maintenance of his family. It is very rarely ever credited. It should not be credited except when the merchant returns some of the money which he had previously drawn. The Account is opened and kept to enable the bookkeeper to charge against the Mer chant's Capital Account his personal expenses in one sum. It is a Non-speculative Account, and is closed into the Capital Account at the time of closing the Ledger. Amounts Drawn Out by a Merchant for Personal and Family Use. February i, 189 .A. B. Lewis drew out, for ais own use, $200. March I5th. He withdrew $300. June gth. He drew out $500. This would appear in the Merchant's Personal Account of the Ledger as follows : Dr. A. B. LEWIS' PERSONAL EXPENSES. Cr. I8q 189 Feb. i To Cash 32 200 oo July z By A. B. L. Cap. Ac. 32 IOOO 00 Mar. 1,5 " do 32 30000 June 9 " do 3 2 500 oo ~ 1000 00 IOOO 00 INVENTORY ACCOUNT. This account is debited for the amount of goods and other property on hand at the time of taking an account of stock, and is credited for the same after the losses and gains have been ascertained. It is a Non-speculative Account. Account of Stock of Mitchell, Fletcher & Co. Merchandise, $9763.38. Store Building, $9000. Counters, Shelving, Desks, Chairs, Fireproof Safe, Ga fixtures, etc., $1625. 100 shares Reading Railroad Stock @ 32, $3200. BOOK-KEEPING. This would appear in Inventory Account of the Ledger as follows : Dr. INVENTORY. 393 Cr. ""189 189 I To Mdse. 35 9763 38 July 1 By Mdse. 35 9763 38 " Real Estate 35 9000 oo ii " Real Estate 35 9000 0} H ii " Store Fixtures 35 1625 oo " ii " Store Fixtures 35 1625 or* M ii " Reading Rail Road Stock 35 3200 oo H " " Reading Rail Road Stock 35 3200 00 23,588 38 23,588 3 _ LOSS AND GAIN ACCOUNT. and Gain Account is debited with all losses and credited with all gains. The dif ference between the sum of the debits and the sum of the credits is the net gain or net loss. If the sum of the debits is the greater, it is a net loss ; if the sum of the credits is the greater it is a net gain. Into this account are brought all the losses and gains which have occurred in the busi ness, and they are here compared and the net gain or loss determined. It is a Non-speculative Account, and closes into the Capital Account Schedule of Losses and Gains. July i, 189 . Porter & Coates, on closing their Ledger for the year, find that thsy have gained : On Me chandise, $21,630.80; on Real Estate sold during the year, $2,800 ; on Discount and Interest, $963.40 ; onPeni. R. R. Stock, $1140; on Phila. & Reading R. R. Stock, $813. They have lost: On Expense Account, $581.60 ; on Salary Account, $9830; on Rent, $5000. Their net gain for the year is, therefore, $11,935.60. This would appear in Loss and Gain Account of the Ledger as follows . Dr. Loss AND GAIN. fr. 189 i 189 July I To Expense ^ 58i 60 July i By Mdse. 36 21,630 80 i II " Salary 3C 9830 oo ii 1 1 " Real Estate 36 2800 00 II " Rent 36 5000 oo it H " Discount and Interest 36 9 6 3 40 II " Porter 36 5967 80 ii ii " Pa. R. R. Stock 36 1140 00 u " " Coates 36 5967 80 ii " " P. & R. R. R. Stock 36 813 00 27,347 20 27,347 20 Debits are losses ; Credits are gains. SHIPMENT ACCOUNTS. Shipments are names given to accounts to which are charged the cost of goods sent to be sold for our account and at our risk by a Factor, or Bailee, called a Commission Mer chant The account is kept for the purpose of ascertaining the gain or loss on goods sent to a particular person. At the time of shipping, the account, by whatever name it may be called, is debited for the cost of the merchandise and all ex penses incurred in shipping the same. It is credited for the net sum yielded by our goods in the hands of the Commission Merchant. The shipments are distinguished one from another by the letters of the Alphabet, or the 394 BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. Numerals, or by naming the person to whom they are sent. Great care should be taken when crediting the Shipments for net proceeds, to charge them to the Commission Merchant as a the business man's money, not as a debt due to the business man, but as the business man's funds in trust until they are remitted, and returned to the proper owner. These are Speculative Accounts, and close into Loss and Gain. Factor, and not as a person, for he holds Goods sent to be sold at our risk and on our account, and returns for same. January 2, 189 . Shipped and consigned to Charles Berger, to be sold on our account and at our risk, ds- Brussels Carpet, @ 650., $97.50 ; 500 yds. Ingrain Carpet, @ soc., $250.00 ; looo yds. Stair Carpet, y $4 50.00; in all, $797.50. Paid shipping expenses, $7.50. sales, showing our net proceeds to be $772.56. 450., Received from Charles Berger an account of This will appear in the Shipment Account of the Ledger as follows : Dr. SHIPMENT, CHARLES BERGER. 189 189 Jan. 2 To Mdse. 3 797 50 Jan. 13 By C. Berger, Factor 39 772 56 ( " Cash 3 7 50 Debits show the cost of the goods sent, and also the expenses, and credits what they produce. SHIPMENTS IN COMPANY. This is the name given to an account representing the business man's interest in a lot of goods sent to be sold partially at his risk and partially on his account. Shipment in Company is made debtor for the cost of the merchant's interest at the time the goods are shipped, and it is credited for the net proceeds of his share at the time the commission merchant renders the account of sales. Shipments in Company are distinguished one from another by letters of the Alphabet or Numerals, in the same manner as Ship ments. Care should be taken at the time of receiv ing the account sales from the commission merchant to charge the commission merchant as a Factor or Bailee, for the reasons named under the head of Shipment Accounts. These are Speculative Accounts, and close into Loss and Gain. Goods sent to be sold partially at our risk and partially on our account, and returns for same. June I, 189 . Shipped to Russell & Mason 1000 Bales Cotton, valued at $60,000, on which they are to assume one-fourth of the risk by reason of having paid a part of the purchase price. They are to have a proportionate share of the gains. Paid expenses of shipment, $12.50. July 3, 189 . Received account sales from Russell & Mason of my interest in the shipment, showing my net proceeds to be $46,500. This will appear in the Shipment in Company Account of the Ledger as follows : Dr. SHIPMENT IN Co. WITH RUSSELL & MASON. A. Cr. 189 189 June i To Mdse. 40 45 ,oco oo July 3 By R. & M., Factors 40 46,500 00 " Cash 40 9 37 , Debits show the cost of the merchant's interest in the Shipment and the expenses fbc his share of same ; credits show what that interest has yielded him. BOOK-KEEPING. 395 FACTOR'S OB BAILEE'S ACCOUNTS. These are accounts kept by the business man with Commission Merchants engaged in the sale of his goods. They are debited for the net proceeds re ported to the business man by his Commis sion Merchant on each account sales, and they are credited whenever the money or other property may be sent by the Commis sion Merchant to the business man. The employment of the account enables a business man to prove conclusively the rela tion existing between himself and his Com mission Merchant; that the Commission Merchant holds in his hands in trust as the property of the business man anything that may be to the debit of Factor's Ac count. It enables one to distinguish clearly the difference between debts due by the Fac tor as an individual and moneys held by him as an Agent, or Factor, or Bailee. CONSIGNMENTS, SALES ACCOUNTS, Etc. These are names given to Accounts repre senting goods received from another business house, to be sold on its account and at its risk, by a Commission Merchant as a Factor, or Bailee, or Agent. Such Accounts are debited for any ex penses incurred in receiving, or handling, or storing the goods, and also for whatever the Commission Merchant may charge for the services rendered by him in selling them, or guaranteeing payment for same. They are credited for what the goods bring and the difference between the amount for which the goods are sold and the charges of the Com mission Merchant, either for services rendered or money expended, belongs to the Owner, and is held by the Commission Merchant as the Owner's money, in trust, until it is remitted. Care should be taken, when the Consignment Account is closed, that credit will be given to the Owner as Principal or Bailor. These are Non-speculative Accounts ; for, after the Commission Merchant reimburses himself for his outlay and pays himself for his trouble, the balance belongs to thg Owner. MERCHANDISE COMPANY. This is a name given to an account of goods received from another business man, to be sold partially at his risk and partially at thj commission merchant's risk. Such accounts are debited for the commis sion merchant's share of their cost, also for moneys expended on them by the commis sion merchant, and for his services in selling them, as well as for the net proceeds belong ing to the shipper.- They are credited for the sales of the goods, and close into Loss and Gain. They are Speculative Accounts, and illu strate very clearly the difference between buy ing goods outright and receiving u:em to sell them at another person's risk, for the shipper must be credited in his personal account for that part of the cost of the goods on which the commission merchant takes the risk. That is an absolute purchase by the commission merchant of that much of the goods, and he owes for that part or share of them as he owes for any other goods which he buys outright ; but for the ship per's net proceeds credit should be given to another account than the personal account of the shipper, called by his name ; with the word Principal, or Bailor, added, for such money belongs to the shipper, and is held by the commission merchant in trust foi him. PRINCIPAL'S OR BAILOR'S ACCOUNTS. These accounts enable the Commission Merchant to show with clearness that in cer* tain transactions he is acting as an agent, 396 BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. and that certain credits on his books are not debts due by him, but money or property belonging to his principal, held by him in trust. They are credited whenever an Account Sales is rendered, and the Consignment Account, or Sales Account, is closed out. They are debited whenever the money, or its equivalent, is remitted. They are Non-speculative Accounts. COMMISSION ACCOUNT. GUARANTEE ACCOUNT. These Accounts are credited for the Com mission charged by the Commission Merchant to his customers -for his services in selling their goods. It is very rarely ever debited ; such a cir cumstance could only arise by the Commis sion Merchant getting some other one in his line of business to aid him in selling the goods and giving them a part of his Com mission for doing it. In any such case Com mission Account would be debited. Guarantee Account is sometimes associated with Commission Account ; that is to say, the Commission allowed by the business man to the Commission Merchant may be intended to cover the pay for selling the goods, and also a recompense for guaranteeing the sound ness of the accounts made by selling the goods payable at some future time. In some lines of business 2}^ per cent, is allowed for selling and 2>^ per cent, for guaranteeing, and the 5 per cent, is credited to the one account called " Commission and Guarantee Account." Some book-keepers may prefer to keep a Commission Account by itself and a Guarantee Account by itself. They are Speculative Accounts, and close into Loss and Gain. PRACTICAL, DEDUCTIONS. Every business transaction in the hands of a double-entry book-keeper requires : First. Some Ledger Account, or Ac counts, to be debited, and some Ledger Ac count, or Accounts, to be credited. Second. In every business transaction,, the debit, or sum of the debits, carried to the Ledger, must equal the credit, or sum of the credits, taken to that account. The fundamental law of book-keeping by double entry is, that there should be as much placed upon the debit side as there is placed upon the credit side, and no business can be transacted, however slight, which does not require at least one debit and one credit to be made in the Ledger, TRIAL, BALANCES. One of the most perplexing positions the book-keeper ever occupies is at the time when he takes off a trial balance. This tg made up from the face of the Ledger, and consists of the names of all open Ledger accounts, with their debit balances in one column and their credit balances in another column. If the debit balances amount to a sum equal to the total of the credit balances, the trial balance is said "to come out all right," but the debit side of the Ledger can be equal to the credit side of the Ledger, and yet the Ledger contain many errors; and were the book-keeper furnished with no better proof of the correctness of his work he would have very little ground foi the satisfaction which is universally felt by a book-keepei when his trial balance does thus "come out right." A little reflection will cause it to appear that the debit and credit balances of the Ledger can be equa 1 and yet errors like these abound : i. Errors in entering a transaction in books of original entry, as, for instance, a sale in the Invoice Book, or a purchase in the Sales Book ; the omission of the whole of a transaction. All of which may be BOOK-KEEPING. 397 described in a general way as mis-entries in the books of original entry. 2. If the transaction is incorrectly Journ alized; that is to say, Bills Payable should be credited when we get somebody else's note discounted, or anything of that char acter. To be spoken of in general as mis takes in debiting or crediting. 3. Any mistake in posting, provided the right amount has been taken to the right side of the Ledger, but to a wrong account. Thus, in posting, if a debit belonging to A's account is taken to the debit side of B's account, and the right amount is used, an error will be produced in two accounts, and yet there will not be any disturbance of the equality of the footings of the trial balance. Any transposition of figures, if the transpo sition occurs on both sides. These errors may be spoken of in general as mis-posts. A. practical, satisfactory check upon one in book-keeping is the custom, almost uni versal, of sending out statements of accounts to debtors at the beginning of each month. If the recipient should find he is over charged, the book-keeper would learn his mistake. Trial balances are taken off at two stated periods, one at the end of each month show ing the debtor and creditor balances of all open accounts, and one taken off after the Ledger is closed, showing the debtor and creditor balances of all accounts which remain open at that time. When the entries have been correctly made in the Ledger, and the trial balance taken off with* out mistake, the debit and credit columns of balances will equal each other. Nothing more, however, is proven by either of the trial balances than that the Ledger is in balance a satisfactory thing for every book-keeper to know. A Ledger, and the Trial Balance of Same. June 30, 189 . The Ledger shows the following balances on this date : Merchandise, Dr., $2547.40; Cash, Dr., $1547.84 ; Bills Payable, Cr., $365 ; John Thomas, Dr., $145.10 ; Richard Mann, Dr., $75 ; George Brown, Cr., |35.i5 ; Alfred Douglas, Cr., $61.89 > Store Fixtures, Dr. $360 ; Expense, Dr., $76.70 ; Students' Capital Account, Cr., 14000. This will appear in the Monthly Trial Balance as follows : TRIAI, BALANCE, JUNE, 189 . balances. Dr. Cr. I 3 Merchandise Cash 2547 40 7 Bills Parable 1547 84 9 John Thomas 365 oc 10 Richard Mann 145 10 ii Geo. Brown 75 oo 12 T 3 Alfred Douglass Store Fixtures 325 61 1C 80 14 15 Expense Students' Capital Account 360 76 00 70 4000 oo 1 4752 04 4752 4 i BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. CLOSING THE LEDGER. A very interesting branch of a book keeper's work is closing the Ledger. There are two general ways of closing accounts: "To or By Loss and Gain" and "To or By Balance." To close an account is to make both sides equal. In the process of closing the Ledger, all the losses and gains that have occurred in the business are gathered together in the Loss and Gain Account, and there compared. The gains are placed upon the credit side; the losses upon the debit side. When the credit side is the greater, the account is closed "To Capital Account," and shows a net gain. The opposite entry, "By Loss and Gain," is made in the Capital Account, and increases the capital. When the debtor side is the greater, the account is closed, "By Capital Account," and shows a net loss. The opposite entry, "To Loss and Gain," is made in the Capital Account, and decreases the capital. Red ink should not be used at all, unless it is used for a definite purpose. A safe general rule is to use black ink in the Ledger in the recording of all entries which come from other books, and to use red ink in making entries which are made for the purpose of closing and bringing down the balances to the new accounts. Custom is not uniform, however, regarding this rule. Very many of those who use red ink for closing, prefer to use black ink in making the transfers of the closing entries. In closing the Ledger, it is necessary to remember the classification of Ledger Ac counts, separating clearly those which are speculative and show losses and gains from those which are non-speculative and show resources and liabilities. To the former class, showing losses and gains, belong Ex pense, Discount and Interest, Commission, Insurance, Merchandise, etc., etc. To the latter class, showing resources and liabilities belong accounts with Individuals, Firms and Corporations, Cash, Bills Receivable, Bills Payable, etc. Unless the property possessed in the busi ness has all been sold, it is a necessary step in closing the Ledger to take an account of Stock and to credit the respective accounts heretofore charged with the amount of prop erty now on hand. Nor should a Ledger be closed until a first trial balance has been taken off, and the Ledger tound to be in balance, and also, there should be a test of the correctness of the Ledger by comparing the Cash and Bills Receivable balances with the Cash on hand and the Bills Receivable on hand, and the sending out and receiving of Statements. First. Close all Speculative Accounts into "Loss and Gain" account by journal izing and posting. Second. Close "Loss and Gain" account into the Capital Account by journalizing and posting. Third. Close "Inventory" account by crediting it and debiting the corresponding accounts. Fourth. Then close all accounts now un closed, "To" or "By Balance," ruling them up and bringing down the balance on the opposite side of each account so closed. All entries "To" or "By Balance" to be made in red ink. Fifth. After the Ledger is closed take ofl a trial balance to ascertain if the Ledger is still in balance. If the work is correctly done, the two sides of the trial balance will be equal, foi the reason that in the case in which the business is possessed of more assets than liabilities, there will be found upon the debit side all the resources, and on the credit side all tb** liabilities, together with the net BOOK-KEEPING. 399 capital, which is the excess of resources over liabilities ; and the net capital properly ap pears on the same side with the liabilities, because the business owes to its proprietor that which he has invested in it ; and if all the assets were collected, dollar for dollar of their face value, as they appear on the books, -md the liabilities were paid out of them, the net capital would appear as a surplus, to be paid over to the proprietor. So, in ad versity, the debit side of the trial balance will, as before, consist of the resources, to gether with the net insolvency, which, taken together, will equal the credit, or liability side, for the reason that the proprietor would have to furnish, from other resources, the amount of the insolvency of the business to enable the liabilities to be discharged, and the net insolvency is properly placed with the resources for this reason. BANK DEPOSITS. No reference has been made in this book to a ledger account with a bank, as it is not customary, and is objectionable. Money in bank is generally regarded as money on hand in another safe, an account of which appears, or should appear, on the stub of the check book. When money is deposited the liability of the bank for the money so depo sited is acknowledged by the receiving teller by an entry on the debit side of a pass book, called the bank book. From this the book keeper should copy the amount and add it to ihe previous balance in bank, as shown by the stub in his check book. From this he should deduct the amount of each check drawn, the difference showing the amount in bank subject to draft. This may not al ways agree with the balance as shown by the bank book when settled at bank, for the reason that a business man subtracts from his bank balance the amount of the check at the time of its issue. The bank does not charge the account of a customer for a check drawn until it is presented and paid at bank. In keeping the check book there are many advantages arising from entering on the stub. The Philadelphia Clearing House Associa tion furnishes to the business community quite a number of useful rules to be observed by those doing business with a bank. We quote a few as follows : "If you write or stamp over your endorse ment upon all checks which you send to be deposited to your credit in bank the words, ' For deposit to our credit,' it will prevent their being used for any other purpose." Another is that you "Do not give your checks to strangers." Another is that "It is desired that all your checks for large amounts should be presented for payment by a person known to the paying teller or other officer of the bank." Another is : "In conformity with the rules adopted by all banks of this city and mem bers of the Clearing House Association, you are hereby notified that you are held respon sible as endorser for the non-payment of all checks upon other banks of this city, mem. bers of said Association, deposited by you as cash in this bank, until the close of the business day next succeeding that on which such checks are deposited. This bank receiv ing such checks only for collection on your account through the exchanges of the Clear ing House. Upon all other checks and drafts deposited by you as cash your responsibility as endorser continues until payment has been ascertained by this bank." PROTEST. Besides these suggestions it is well to re member that not only with checks but with promissory notes held by you and secured to you by endorsement, that you lose the secur ity of the endorsement if you fail to protest those not paid at maturity 400 BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. Bank Check. No. 33. Philadelphia, June i, i8y . first National Bank. Pay to the order of Joshua L. Bailey &> Co Five hundred and ten -gfa Dollars. Wright & Schmid. Receipt. No. 311. Philadelphia, Jan. 3, 189 . Received from Wright &> Schmid. four hundred and thirteen ^fo Dollaft in full for bill of this date. John Griffith. Receipt when settlement is made by Jfo. 113. Philadelphia, June 27, j8y . Deceived from Bailey & Moulton, Wm. Beck's note, dated May 14, at sixty days, for Eight hundred and sixty-four -fifa Dollar^ in settlement of Bailey & Moulton 1 s account. Janney &* Andrews. Promissory Note payable at Bank. Philadelphia. fto. 6, 189 . Two months after date we promise to pay to the order of Coffin, Altemus & Co , Five thousand. '?$! Dollar* at the Seventh National Bank without defalcation, value received. No. 357. Due Apr. 6/9. Wright Schmid. Demand Note. Philadelphia, Jan. 12, 189 . On demand, I promise to pay to the order of John B. Ellison 6 Sons Five hundred and seventy -fifo Dollars^ without defalcation, value received. No. 37. Valentine Baker. 323 So. 2d St. Sight Draft. faoofifa. Philadelphia, Feb. 8, At sight pay to the order of. Diddle & Co Five hundred. value received, and charge to the account of To John H. Dick, Wright Sr > Schmid, 941 Passyunk Ave, 704 Market St, No. 73. CHAPTER XXXI. Forms for Business Letters. I IS quite as easy to write a love letter as to write a good business letter. Beth are difficult, and the opportunity to consult approved forms will be appreciated by all who engage in correspondence. Many business men have achieved success by being able to write a letter suited to the case, saying just enough, saying it right to the point, and stopping when there was tfo ;rnt>Tervthat .7 , , ..jim ,ta ip im-=,or attt nJiwJnfi. .J.Lj.1^ .^UI iy illT-.UI 311J UJIWJIJJi weeded to be said. A man is known by his correspondence. In large business houses it is customary to employ a correspondent who can transact this most delicate part of the business in a neat and satisfactory manner. The art of explanation, persuasion and dis tinct statement, is one surely to be coveted. The following forms of letters are valuable for consultation, affording style, methods of statement and important suggestions, and VX. will be of service in business correspondence. .81J39-/ svft JgBCT srfj tol inoinfoS .O .A .iM 1 -, ,, . p,. No. 55 Main St., -^niitmoo. aid cxtm npa airf gjlirf oi siiaob _ srs. MATTHEWS st X.X>RNEU. CHICAGO, June i2th, 189 . ,.,., No, 36o.Levant St.: - JJOY notnvf vJnitjB. TO joJoBiBn? T 19 iBinomiJaoi vets TOI it * GENTLEMEN. Understanding by our a , ,. . . ,, _ . , A , ., . erstanding by your advertisement in the Tntuntof the nth inst., thai SIEKINQ A you require the services of A junior clerk, I beg respectfully to offer myself as a candidate for the ^ n ftrl} silt airatloa .ftwaiy -mov ai33ftf noOf ,, L , A . , JUNIOR CLERK- appointment. I am nineteen, years pi age. and, from my attainments in various branches of CHIP i_ -s T _ ,..j)9imp9i.a3riuJrariJ',vJlByJSnuq.. . , education, I believe mvseli qualified for the duties required. 30 oj ic I may mention that I am not altogether unacquainted with book-keeping and accounts, hav ing for some months past assisted my father, Mr. James Brixey, lumber merchant, in the count' ing-house department of his business. Should you entertain my application, I beg to refer you to Messrs. Cram & Snyder, coal dealers, and Mr, Robert Dunlevy, hardware merchant, Wyoming St., who will have -leasure in. testifying as to my character and abilities. I am, gentlemen, your most obedient servant, WIUJAM M. BRIXEY. No. 360 Levant St., MR. WIUJAM M. BRIXEY; CHICAGO, June i3th, 189 . . pi v TO ^ IR> Caving made inquiry of Mr. Dunlevy, one of tne references named in your letter of APPLICATION ^ e I2 th inst., we are satisfied with his recommendation. Before making an engagement, however, we should desire a personal interview, and should therefore be glad if you could make it convenient to call at our counting-house on Saturday forenoon, at 11 o'clock. Yours, MATTHEWS & CORNELL. No. 55 Main St., Messrs. MATTHEWS & CORNEI*!* : CHICAGO, June I4th, 189 . VOUTH's REPLY GENTLEMEN. I am in receipt of your esteemed letter of yesterday, and feel much obliged To THE by your kind attention. I shall not fail to wait upon you on Saturday, punctually at the hour mentioned, and should my application be ultimately successful, no effort shall be wanting on my part to merit your confidence and approval. I am, gentlemen, Your obedient servant, WILLIAM M. BRIXEY. 36 401 402 BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. REQUESTING A LETTER OF INTRODUCTION ROCHESTER, N. Y., Jan. isth, 189 . MR. CALVIN SHARPS : DEAR SIR. Some time ago you were kind enoug .o express yourself desirous of serving me in the way of introduction. Would it be asking too great a favor if I were to solicit from you a letter to two or three of the most respectable builders in New York, whom I should like to wait upon? I should esteem it a very great favor if you would oblige me, as I am convinced the position you hold among them would considerably enhance my chance of obtaining orders. Apologizing for troubling you, I remain, Yours very respectfully, GEORGE ENGEL, West 23rd St., NEW YORK, March soth, 189 . Messsrs. E. S. CLARK & Co., No. Broadway : GENTLEMEN. In reply to your advertisement in to-day's Herald for a clerk competent to APPLICATION FOR . . . c r i j -^ ^ r f THE POSITION OF charge of a set of oooks, and conversant with the forms of mercantile correspondence, I beg BOOK-KEEPER to offer my services to your Firm. I h.ive been in the employ of Mr. A. G. Belmont for the past five years, but about three months ago he informed me of his desire to take his son into his counting-house, and dispense with the services of one clerk. He permits me to refer to him for any testimonial of character or ability which you may require. Should you find my application meets your views, believe me that it will be my cor e ^aot endeavor to fulfill faithfully and punctually the duties required. I have, gentlemen, the honor to be, Yours very respectfully, WALTER LOCKWOOD. TESTIMONIAL ACCOMPANYING THE ABOVE APPLICATION NEW YORK, January ist, 189 . Mr. Walter Lockwood being about to leave my employ, it gives me great pleasure to testify to his ability as a book-keeper. He has been in my counting-house for three years, during which time he has always maintained the character of a conscientious, upright and faithful clerk. He is a fine penman, correct accountant, good correspondent, and of steady moral habits. It will afford me pleasure at any time to reply to any application with regard to Mr. Lock- wood, and he leaves me with my best wishes for his future success. A. G. BELMONT. MERCHANT TO STORE KEEPER GIVING PRICES AND TERMS NEW YORK, Nov. i6th, 189 . MR. HUGH BLAIR, Homer, N. Y. : DEAR SIR. In reply to your favor of I4th inst. , we enclose herewith a complete list of oui Goods, with net prices. They are all of our own manufacture and each article undergoes careful inspection before packing, and conforms strictly with the quality represented. Your references are entirely satisfactory, and we therefore offer you our best terms, viz : Sixty days' credit, dating from day of shipment, or a rebate of five per cent, for cash in 15 daya. Hoping to receive your orders in due course, we are, Yours respectfully, RAYMOND & CO, FORMS FOR BUSINESS LETTERS. 403 ORDERING GOODS HOMER, N. Y., Nov. i8th, 189 . Messrs. RAYMOND & Co., New York: STOREKEEPER DEAR SIRS. Your favor of i6th inst. is to hand, with prices and terms, which I find ro MERCHANT, entirely satisfactory. I enclose herewith an order for such goods as I require to meet my present needs, and will order from time to time as occasion demands. I prefer this plan, as it enables me to ascertain what goods are most called for, and also to settle my bills promptly M they fall due. As I find already a demand for the goods I now order, I hope you will forward them pt Union Express without delay, and greatly oblige Yours respectfully, HUGH BLAIR. MERCHANT TO STOREKEEPER, ENCLOSING BILU OF GOODS SHIPPED NEW YORK, Nov. aoth, 189 . HUGH BI.AIR, Homer, N. Y. : DEAR SIR. Your order of i8th inst. is received. In accordance with your directions, w< forward the goods this day per Union Express, and hand you herewith bill for the sain* hoping that they will reach you in due course and prove to your entire satisfaction. Awaiting an early renewal of your favors, we are, Yours respectfully, RAYMOND &. CO. HOMER, N. Y., Nov. 25th, 189 . Messrs. RAYMOND & Co. , New York : DEAR SIRS. The goods shipped by you Nov. 2oth have not yet arrived. Would you kindly THAT GOODS ascertain from the Union Express Co. the cause of the delay. In due course they should have HAVE NOT BEEN been delivered here on the 22d, and I am anxiously awaiting their arrival. I am, RECEIVED Yours respectfully, HUGH BLAIR. MERCHANT TO EXPRESS CO. ASKING CAUSE OF DELAY 219 Broadway, NEW YORK, Nov. 26th, 189 . UNION EXPRESS COMPANY, New York : GENTLEMEN. We forwarded Nov. aoth, a case of goods by your Express to Hugh Blair, Homer, N. Y. We have received a letter from him to-day dated Nov. 25th, advising us that hit goods had not reached him. Will you please inform us at once the reason of the delay, and oblige, Yours respectfully, RAYMOND & CO. EXPRESS CO. TO MERCHANT ASKING FOR RECEIPT FOR GOODS SHIPPED Office of Union Express Company, NEW YORK, Nov. 26th, 189 . Messrs. RAYMOND & Co., 219 Broadway, New York : DEAR SIRS. Your letter of this morning is to hand. Please sen I us our Receipt for th package referred to ; we will then send on a tracer after it, and report to you as soon as we learn particulars. Yours respectfully, UNION EXPRESS CO,, per McCook. ; MERCHANT TO EXPRESS CO. ENCLOSING RECEIPT 219 Broadway, NEW YORK, Nov. 26th, 289 UNION EXPRESS COMPANY, New York : GENTLEMEN. We hand you by bearer your receipt of case shipped Nov. aoth, to Hugh Blair, Homer, N. Y., delayed on the road. Please oblige ns by reporting at earliest moment, so that we can reply to consignee's inquiries. Yours respectfully, RAYMOND & CO. 404 EXPRESS CO. REPORT CAUSE Of DELAY BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. Office of Union Express Company, NEW YORK, Nov. 28th, 189 . Messrs. RAYMOND & Co., 219 Broadway, New York: DEAR SIRS. We have just received a report from our agent at Binghamton, that the entire region is blockaded by snow, and every effort is being made to forward freight to destination. The work of clearing the tracks is slow, owing to drifts twenty feet deep in some places on the line. We hope that your package will reach its destination by Dec. ist. We are, Yours respectfully, UNION EXPRESS CO., per McCook. MCRCHANT TO STOREKEEPER, GIVING REASON OF DELAY NEW YORK, Nov. 28th, 189 . Mr. HUGH BLAIR, Homer, N. Y. : DEAR SIR. The Union Express Co. report to us to-day that your goods have been delayed on the road by a heavy snow-storm, which has completely blocked up the railroad track t, also that strenuous efforts are being made to clear the roads, and they expect to have the way open to Homer by Dec. ist. We are sorry for the detention, but it appears to have been unavo dable. We are, Yours respectfully, RAYMOND & CO. HOMER, N. Y., Dec. 5th, 189 . Messrs. RAYMOND & Co., New York: arrcmEKEEPER TO DEAR SIRS. I have just received notice of the arrival of the goods I ordered Nov. i8th. lNiNG A To' RE- Their failure to arrive in proper time has entirely deprived me of the opportunity of selling them, as my customers have all been supplied with these goods by a rival concern here, so that I have not only lost the sale of the goods, but probabty some of my customers as well. I have no possible use for the goods this season , and certainly do not propose to hold diem Over until next winter. I have therefore been compelled to decline receiving them. I am, Very respectfully, HUGH BLAIR CEIVE GOODS; SALES LOST BY DELAY MERCHANT'S flEPLY TO STOREKEEPER'S .REFUSAL TO RECEIVE GOODS NEW YORK, Dec. 7th, 189 . Mr. HUGH BI^AIR, Homer, N. Y. : DEAR SIR. Your letter of 5th insl. is to hand, also a notice from the Union Express Co. nth report from their Agent at Homer, that you refuse to receive the goods, and that he holds them subject to our further orders. We are indeed surprised to find that you have adopted such a course, as it is entirely unjustifiable. We executed your orders to the letter, and our respon sibility ends there. The delay on the road was in no way caused by any neglect or carelessness on our part, and your r medy, if any, lays between yourself and the Express Co. We consider you in honor bound to take the goods and seek redress for a contingency, which no human ingenuity could avoid, from those on whom you may be able to make good your claim. We should think that in your section of the country, ordinary foresight and prudence would prompt you to lay in a stock of these goods earlier in the season, as you surely must be aware of the risk of delay on the road in mid-winter. Your competitors have evidently exercised better judgment. We hope you will reconsider the matter, and do what is only just and right. We assure you that, if you propose to transact business in any other way, you will be unable to get your orders filled even for cash on delivery, with the risk of having goods returned on sellers' hands with double freight charges. Awaiting an immediate reply, we are, Yours respectfully, RAYMOND & CO, FORMS FOR BUSINESS LETTERS. 405 MERCHANT AGREEING TO ACCEPT GOODS DELAYED HOMER, N. Y., Dec. gth, 189 , Messrs. RAYMOND & Co. , New York : STOREKEEPEK TO DEAR SIRS. Your favor of 7th inst. is to hand, and contents carefully noted. I musft confess that when I wrote to you on the 5th inst. I was justly annoyed at the detention of the goods ; and, smarting under disappointment, I was certainly too hasty in my conclusions. I hope you will make due allowance for the circumstances under which I was placed at the time, and 1 the vexation which I necessarily felt at seeing seasonable trade slipping away from my grasp. I appreciate fully the force of your remarks in relation to getting goods well in advance of the demands of the season, and shall act on them in future. Since writing to you, I have thought the matter over a little more calmly, and I have no doubt that I shall still be able to dispose of a considerable portion of the goods ordered from you. Even were this not the case, I should certainly shrink from allowing my reputation for straight forward dealing to suffer under any circumstances where I could avoid it. Yesterday, therefore, I took the goods from the Express Co. and had thus settled the matter before your letter of jib inst. came to hand. Hoping you will let this matter pass without prejudice to any future transactions between us* I am, Yours respectfully, HUGH BLAIR. INQUIRY RESPECTING THE RESPONSIBILITY OF A PERSON PHILADELPHIA, Jan. 4th, 189 , Mr. THEODORE SAMSON, Minneapolis: DEAR SIR. A dealer in your city, whose name and address is written on the inclosed pape . has just sent me an order for $500 worth of goods which he desires to purchase on three months* I have never had any dealings with him, and am therefore anxious to ascertain some facts rela tive to his character and responsibility. Can you furnish me any information on these points, and do you consider him worthy of credit ? I regret having to give you any trouble, and I assure you that I shall always be most happy to reciprocate should you ever have to apply to me for similar information. Very truly yours, G. P. RUSHTON. MINNEAPOLIS, Jan. yth, 189 . Mr. G. P. RUSHTON, Philadelphia: FAVORABLE DEAR SIR. In reply to yours of the 4th inst., I am happy to be able to inform you that th* REPLY TO THE person, about whom you make inquiry, merits your entire confidence. PRECEDING of his means I am not precisely informed. I believe them, however, to be adequate to the requirements of his trade ; but of his character and habits I can confidently speak in the highest terms ; he is prompt and punctual in all his transactions, and I believe no person ever had occa sion to apply to him for his account twice. Personally, I should have no hesitation in selling him the amount you name upon the terms specified. I am happy to be able to send you these assurances, and trusting that your business relations* with him may prove mutually profitable and advantageous, I am, Yours very truly, THEODORE SAMSON. ON FAVORABLE REPLY TO THE MINNEAPOLIS, Jan. 7th. 189 . Mr. G. P. RUSHTON: DEAR SIR. I regret to say that I consider the person whose name you mention totally unworthy pf being trusted. He has no capital, and, what is worse, is wholly devoid of prin- ciple. He is well known to have been in difficulties for some time past, and contrives tem porarily to bolster up his affairs by obtaining new credits, and systematically underselling his* goods. Sooner or later his failure is certain, and his creditors will, I am convinced, get nexfc to nothing. Very truly yours, THEODORE SAMSON. 406 BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. OF AN ACCOUNT CINCINNATI, April ist, 189 . Mr. L. P. MUNN, Richmond : REQUESTING THE DEAR SIR. I trust you will pardon the liberty I take in writing to ask. if you will obligt EARLY PAYMENT me -^th the amount of your account within the present week, and in consideration of your paying the same before it is due, I am willing to deduct an extra discount of five per cent. I assure you that I should not have troubled you in this matter had I not been disappointed in the receipt of cash from quarters where I confidently expected it ; and I thought it possible that the deduction of extra discount, together with your general wish to serve me, would induce you to oblige me in this particular. Very truly yours, OSCAR FAULKNER. RICHMOND, April 2d, 189 . Mr. OSCAR FAULKNER, Cincinnati : REPLY TO THE DEAR SIR. In compliance with your request, I enclose my check on the First National FOREOOING Bank of your city for $475, that being the amount of your account against me less five per cent. Please acknowledge receipt of the same. Yours very truly, L. P. MUNN. ETAIL DEALER TO CUSTOMER REQUESTING PAYMENT OF AMOUNT NEW YORK, Jan. aoth, 189 . Mr. BLUNT SCR0BB : SIR. I beg respectfully to remind you that your account has been standing for several months unsettled. I should not even now have troubled you were it not that in a few days I shall have to meet a heavy bill, and I have at present no means of providing for it. I should, therefore, esteem it a great favor if you would kindly let me have either the whole or a portion of your account in the course of two or three days. Thanking you for past favors, I remain, Very respectfully yours, TIGHTMAN STERN. BOSTON, July isth, 189 . Mr. F. C. GILBERT, Springfield : IMOEMT BCMANO SIR. Feeling much disappointed by your failure to settle my account according to promise, IOR PAYMENT I am compelled to say that the profits on my business will not admit of longer credit. At the same time, I should be sorry to inconvenience you, and will therefore fix the ayth inst. for payment, after which it will be quite impossible for me to wait, however unpleasant the alternative. I am, sir, Yours obediently, A. B. JORDAN. jETTLfNQ OF AN OVER DU6 DEfiT SPRINGFIELD, July ioth, 189 , Mr. A. B. JORDAN, Boston : DEAR SIR. I am happy to be able to enclose you a check on Messrs. Rice & Co., of yoor city, for the sum for which I have already been too long your debtor. Assuring you that unforeseen disappointments have been the sole cause of any want of punctuality, I remain dear sir. Yours very truly, F. C. GILBERT. CHAPTER XXXII. Agreements, or Contracts. are persons who transact the most important business by verbal contract. Although this is a prevail ing 1 custom in country places, it is a very poor way to do business. It is but fair to both parties that the contract should be in "black and white" ; then there can be no mistakes of memory, and no possibility of evading the terms of the instrument An agreement or contract is an arrange ment entered into by two or more persons, by which each binds himself to perform certain specified acts within a designated time. Agreements may be verbal, but it is better in all cases, and absolutely essential in mat ters of importance, to express them in Great care should be taken, in drawing an agreement, to state explicitly and in the plainest language the various acts to be per formed, and the time of such performance. Nothing should be left to doubt or uncer tainty. The law requires that all the parties to an agreement shall understand its provisions in the same sense, and does not recognize the existence of a contract in which this is not the case. Thus, a person sent an order to a merchant for a particular quantity of goods on certain terms of credit The' merchant sent a less quantity of goods, and at a shorter credit The goods were lost on the way, and the merchant sued the party who ordered them for their value. He failed to win his caee, as the court held that in consequence of the failure of the merchant to send the quan tity of goods ordered and to grant the credit asked, there was no common understand- ing between the parties, and consequently no contract A contract must show that it is made foi a valuable consideration. A failure to do this renders it void in law. Fraud annuls all contracts and obligations, and the party so wronged is relieved of his obligation by law. If both the parties to an agreement act fraudulently, neither can take advantage of the fraud of the other; nor can one who acts fraudulently set his own fraud aside for his benefit. Agreements written in pencil are binding in law, but it is best to write them with ink, as pencil-marks are easily erased. Agreements should be prepared and signed in duplicate, triplicate, etc., according to the nun: ber of persons concerned in them. Each party should have a copy, and should care fully preserve it. Generally speaking, all written instru ments are construed and interpreted by the law according to the simple, customary, and natural meaning of the words used. When a contract is so obscure or uncertain that it must be set wholly aside and regarded as no contract whatever, it can have no force or effect upon the rights or obligations of the parties, but all of these are the same as if they had not made the contract No custom, however universal, or old, ot known (unless it has actually becoms a law) has any force whatever, if the parties see fk 407 408 BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. to exclude and refuse it by words of their contract, or provide that the thing which the custom affects shall be done in a way different from the custom. For a custom can never be set up against either the express agreement or the clear intention of the parties. Punctuation is not regarded in the con struction or interpretation of a written instrument, or in written law. Spelling, though bad, will not avoid a contract where the intention of the parties is clear. All contracts made in violation of a valifl statute are absolutely void and of no effect Where a proposition is made by letter, the mailing of a letter containing accept ance of the proposition completes the con tract. It is the presumption of the law that a person in making a contract intends to bind not only himself but his legal repre sentatives. Such representatives may there fore sue on a contract, although not named in it, and may have rights and priviledges the same as the original contractors. DATE OF AGREEMENT TERMS OF AGREEMENT General Form of Agreement. THIS AGREEMENT, made this twenty-fifth day of September, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and. ninety-one, between Joe Davis, of Livonia, County of Livingston, State of New York, party of the first part, and John Lock, of the same place, party of the second part, WiTNESSETH, That the said Joe Davis, party of the first part, hereby covenants and agrees, that he will deliver to the said John Lock, party of the second part, during the month of September, one hundred cords of hickory wood, at the woodyard of the said John Lock, as follows : twenty cords to be delivered on or before the loth of October ; twenty cords more to be delivered on or before the I5th of October ; twenty cords more on or before the aoth of October ; twenty cords more on or before the 25th of October, and the remaining twenty cords on or before the 3oth of October ; the entire quantity of one hundred cords to be delivered by the 3Oth of October. And the said John Lock, party of the second part, in consideration of the prompt fulfilment of this agreement by the said Joe Davis, party of the first part, agrees and hinds himself to pay to the said Joe Davis, the sum of three dollars for each and every cord of hickory wood delivered to him by the said Joe Davis or his agents, and to pay for each cord of wood as soon as it is delivered at his woodyard. In case of the failure of either party to this contract to make good his promises, it is hereby stipulated and agreed that the party so failing shall forfeit to the other party the sum of one hundred dollars in cash as fixed and settled damages. IN WITNESS WHEREOF, The parties to these presents have hereunto set their hands and seals, the day and year first above written. JOE DAVIS. [SKAI..] Signed, sealed and delivered in presence of JOHN LOCK. [SE u^l W. H. JACKSON, H. C. KINGSBURY. DATE OF CONTRACT rtRMS OF CONTRACT Trade Contract between Merchants. THIS AGREEMENT, made this second day of March, A. r>. 189 , by and between Peter Peck, party of the first part, and Amos Twist, party of the second part, both of the city of Buffalo. State of New York, WiTNESSETH, That the said Peter Peck shall sell and deliver to the said Amos Twist, at hi*, store, in the city of Buffalo, on the twentieth day of the present month of March, one hundred barrels of fine salt, in good, substantial barrels, suitable for packing beef and pork, and for thte use of the kitchen and dairy. AGREEMENTS, OR CONTRACTS. 409 In consideration whereof, the said Amos Twist shall convey and deliver to the saii Peter Peck, at the storehouse of R. M. Cuyler, in the city of Buffalo, one thousand pounds of good merchantable cheese, and four hundred pounds of sweet table butter ; both well packed in tiercel or firkins, and made in dairies where at least fifteen cows are kept. IN WITNESS WHEREOF, The parties to these presents have hereunto set their hand* and seals the day and year first above written. Executed in presence of PETER PECK. [SEAI,.] R. M. CUYLER, \ AMOS TWIST. [SEAI,.} HENRY GOVE. j DATE OF AGREEMENT TERMS OF AGREEMENT Agreement to Cultivate Land on Shares. THIS AGREEMENT, made this tenth day of August, 189 , by and between John Holman, party of the first part, and Andrew Jackson, party of the second part, both of the town of Media, county of Chester, State of Pennsylvania, WiTNESSETH, That said John Holman will, on or before the tenth day of September, break, properly fix, and sow with wheat, all that twenty acres of field belonging to and lying imme diately north of the dwelling-house and garden of said Andrew Jackson, in the town of Media. That one-half of the seed wheat shall be found by said Andrew Jackson. That when said crop shall be in fit condition, he will cut, harvest, and safely house it in the barn of said Andrew Jackson. That he will properly thresh and clean the same. That the straw shall be equally divided between the parties. That he will deliver one-half of said wheat, being the produce thereof, to said Andrew Jackson, at the granary near his dwelling-house, on or before the isth day of July, 189 . That said John Holman shall perform all the work and labor necessary in the premises, or cause the same to be done. Witness our hands and seals, Signed, sealed and delivered in presence of JOHN HODMAN. [SEAI,.] RICHARD WHITE, 1 ANDREW JACKSON. [SEAI,.] PETER BELI,. / DATE OF CONTRACT WORK TO BE DONE PAYMENTS WtFtREES General Form of Contract for Mechanics' Work. CONTRACT made this first day of January, A. D. 189 , by and between D. I/, Burke, of the City of Philadelphia, State of Pennsylvania, party of the first part, and Hiram Cannon, oi the City and State aforesaid, party of the second part, WiTNESSETH, That the party of the first part, for the consideration hereinafter mentioned, covenants and agrees with the party of the second part to perform in a faithful and workmanlike manner the following specified work, viz. : To build one brick stable, according to the plans and specifications attached to this agreement, without varying in any way whatsoever from said plan and specifications. And in addition to the above to become responsible for all materials deliv ered and receipted for, the work to be commenced on or before April ist, 189 , and to be com pleted and delivered free from all mechanic or other liens on or before the first day of July, 189 . And the party of the second part covenants and agrees with the party of the first part, in con sideration of the faithful performance of the above specified work, to pay to the party of the first part the sum of two thousand dollars, as follows : five hundred dollars upon the completion of the foundation walls ; five hundred dollars upon the covering of said stable with the roof; and one thousand dollars upon the first day of July, 189 , provided said stable be delivered as agreed upon above, on or before that day. i And it is further mutually agreed by and between both parties, that in case of disagreement in reference to the performance of said work, all questions of disagreement shall be referred to Thomas Lee and John Yarnall , master builders, of the City of Philadelphia, and the award of said referees, or a majority of them, shall be binding and final on all parties. BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. IN WITNESS WHEREOF, We hereunto set our hands and seals the day and year first above written. D. Iy. BURKE. [SEAL.] Executed in presence of HIRAM CANNON. E. H. FITTER, \ THOMAS NEWTON. J DATE TERMS COMPENSATION Merchant's Agreement with his Clerk. THIS AGREEMENT, made this first day of January, A. D. 189 , by and between J. H. Grove steen, of the City and State of New York, party of the first part, and William Wood, of the City and Stave aforesaid, party of the second part, WITNESSETH, That the said William Wood shall enter the service of the said J. H. Gvove- steen as a clerk and salesman. That the said William Wood shall faithfully, honestly and diligently perform the duties of a clerk and salesman in the store of the said J. H. Grovesteen, and well and truly obey all the reasonable commands and wishes of the said J. H. Grovesteen, during the space of three years from this date. That he will guard his employer's interests, and keep the secrets of his employer, absenting himself from his business only upon said employer's consent. That the said J. H. Grovesteen, in consideration of said services, will pay to the said William Wood a yearly sum of one thousand two hundred dollars,in equal payments of one hundred dollars on the first day of each and every calendar month of the year, commencing on the first of February, 189 . Witness our hands, Executed in the presence of J. H. GROVESTEEN. JOHN Hiu,, ) WII LEWIS CAMP. CARLOS FRENCH. j DATE BUSINESS CAPITAL EXHIBIT PROFITS ACCOUNT TO BE RENDERED PROVISION FOR ARBITRATION Another Partnership Agreement. THIS AGREEMENT made this tenth day of June, 189 , between James Smith, of Salem, Washington County, N. Y., of the one part, and Henry Smythe, of the same place, of the other part, witnesseth : The said parties agree to associate themselves as copartners, for a period of five years from this date, in the business of buying and selling hardware and such other goods and commodities as belong in that line of trade ; the name and style of the firm to be " Smith & Smythe. ' ' For the purpose of conducting the business of the above named partnership, James Smith has, at the date of this writing, invested Five Thousand Dollars as capital stock, and the said Henry Smythe has paid in the like sum of Five Thousand Dollars, both of which amounts are to be expended and used in common, for the mutual advantage of the parties hereto, in the management of their business. It is further agreed that once every year, or oftener, should either party desire, a full, just and accurate exhibit shall be made to each other, or to their executors, administrators, or representatives, of the losses, receipts, profits and increase made by reason of, or arising from such copartnership. And after such exhibit is made, the surplus profit, if such there be resulting from the business, shall be divided between the subscribing partners, share and share alike. [ffere state amount to be drawn out annually by each party .] And further, should either partner desire, or should death of either of the parties, or other reasons, make it necessary, they, the said copartners will, each to the other, or, in case of death of either, the surviving party to the executors or administrators of the party deceased, make a a full, accurate and final account of the condition of the partnership as aforesaid, and will, fairly and accurately, adjust the same. And also, upon taking an inrentory of said capital stock, with increase and profit thereon, which shall appear or is found to be remaining, all such remainder shall be equally apportioned and divided between them, the said copartners, their executor? or administrators, share and share alike. It is also agreed that in case of a misunderstanding arising with the partners hereto, which cannot be settled between themselves, such difference of opinion shall be settled by arbitrations upon the following conditions, to-wit: Each party to choose one arbitrator, which two thus elected shall choose a third ; the three thus chosen to determine the merits of the case, and arrange the basis of a settlement. IN WITNESS WHEREOF, The undersigned hereto set their hands the day and year first abov< written. JAMES SMITH. Signed in presence of HENRY SMYTHE. JOHN JONES, 1 SAMUEI, BROWN. J CHAPTER XXXIV. Bills of Sale, Bonds and Assignments. OF SALE is a written agree- ment by which a person transfers to another person, for a valuable con sideration, his entire right, title, and interest in personal property. As a general rule, in order to establish ownership in law, the purchaser must take actual possession of the property purchased ; but in some States, if the sale was not made, ( fraudulently, for the purpose of evading the payment of just debts, the bill of sale is prima facie evidence of the sale, and will hold good against the creditors of the seller. Such questions must be decided by juries, who have power to set aside the sale in cases where fraud is proved. aOODS CONVEYED aUARANTY Bill of Sale General Form with Warranty. KNOW Au, MEN BY THESE PRESENTS, That in consideration of seven hundred dollars, the receipt of -which is hereby acknowledged, I do hereby grant, sell, transfer and deliver unto Thomas Wright, his heirs, executors, administrators, and assigns, the following goods and chattels, viz. : One set of parlor furniture, upholstered in purple velvet $400.00 One set of black walnut chamber furniture, 300.00 $700.00 To have and to hold all and singular the said goods and chattels forever. And the said grantor hereby covenants with said grantee that he is the lawful owner of said goods and chat tels ; that they are free from all incumbrances ; that he has good right to sell the same, as afore said ; &nd that he will warrant and defend the same against the lawful claims and demands of all persons whomsoever. IN WITNES* WHEREOP, the said grantor has hereunto set his hand this tenth day of March, 189 . Witnesses: REILLY VANSANT. Q. C. BERTRON, EI/MER SCHT.ITZER. Bill of Sale Of a Horse, witli Warranty. KNOW AU, MEN BY THESE PRESENTS, That in consideration of one hundred and fifty dol- ART1CLE OF OALE j arg ^ to me p a j ( j j^ p a trick Dooner, the receipt of which is hereby acknowledged, I, John Mul ligan, by these presents do bargain, sell, and convey to the said Patrick Dooner, his heirs, exec utors, administrators, and assigns, one bay horse, of the male sex, bay color, fifteen hands high, with a white star in the forehead, known as Old Reliable, to have and to hold the same unto the said Patrick Dooner, his heirs, executors, administrators, and assigns forever. WARRANTY And I, for myself, my heirs, executors, and administrators, will warrant and defend said , horse unto him, the said Patrick Dooner, his heirs, executors, administrators, and assigns, against the lawful claims and demands of all and every person or persons whatsoever. Witness my hand this tenth day of May, 189 . JOHN MUIvUGAN. Witnesses : THOMAS JACKSON, GEORGE FUNT. 416 BILLS OF SALE, BONDS AND ASSIGNMENTS. 417 BONDS. A Bond is a written promise, signed and sealed by a single person, to pay to another person a certain sum of money at a desig nated time. A promise made in writing without a seal is not a bond, but merely a simple promise. The bond must be for some bonafide con sideration. The person giving the bond is called the obligor; the person to whom it is given is called the obligee. A bond is usually given not as. j. promise to pay money, for a promissory note would answer that purpose, but as a promise to pay money in case certain acts are not done. These acts are specified in the bond, and are called the condition of the bond. The faith ful performance of these acts within the time specified renders the bond null and void. The amount of money named in the bond is called ^Q penalty. It is usually sufficient to cover the debt it is intended to secure, with interest and costs added. In order to secure this the sum is fixed at twice the amount of the actual debt The meaning and effect of this is, that if the obligor fails, in any respect, to do what the condition re cites, then he is bound to pay the money he acknowledges himself, in the bond, bound to pay. But now the law comes in to mitigate the severity of this contract. And whatever be the sum which the obligor acknowledges himself, in the bond, bound to pay, lie is held by the courts to pay the obligee only that amount which will be a complete in demnification to him for the damage he has sustained by the failure of the obligor to do what the condition recites. For example : suppose A B makes a bond to C D in the sum of ten thousand dollars. The condition recites that one E F has been hired by C D as his clerk, and that A B guarantees the good conduct of E F ; and if E F does all his duty honestly and faithfully, then the bond is void, and otherwise remains in full force. Then suppose E F to cheat C D out of some money. A B is sued on the bond ; C D cannot recover from him, in any event, more than the ten thousand dol lars ; and he will, in fact, recover from him only so much of this as will make good to C D all the loss he has sustained by E F's misconduct. As the obligee can recover from the obligor only actual compensation for what he loses, it is usual in practice to make the penal sum in the bond large enough to cover all the loss that can happen. SMOUNT 3FBOND Common Form of Bond, Without Condition. KNOW Au, MEN BY THESE PRESENTS, That I, Charles Thomas, of the city of Richmond. State of Virginia, am held and firmly bound unto Luther Norton, of the city and State aforesaid, in the sum of two hundred dollars, lawful money of the United States of America, to be paid to the said Luther Norton, or his certain attorney, Timothy Sloan, or his assigns ; to which pay ment, well and truly to be made on or before the first day of January, 189 , I bind myself, my heirs, executors, and administrators firmly by these presents. Sealed with my seal, dated March i, 189 . IN TESTIMONY WHEREOF, I, Charles Thomas, have set my hand and seal to this instrument March i. 189 . CHARLES THOMAS. [SEAI,.J[ and delivered in presence of J. Q. McCooK, -> E. K. HETZKI-. j 418 BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. AMOUNT OF BOND CONDITIONS FORFEIT General Form of Bond, With Condition. KNOW AtX MEN BY THESE PRESENTS, That I, Mortimer Marsh, of the city of Covingtoa, State of Kentucky, am held and firmly bound unto Clark Wilson, of the city and State aforesaid, in the sum of one thousand dollars, to be paid to the said Clark Wilson, his executors, adminis trators, or assigns, for which payment, well and truly to be made, I bind myself, my heirs- executors, and administrators, firmly by these presents. Sealed with my seal, dated the twentieth day of March, 189 . The condition of the above obligation is such, that if the above-bounden Mortimer Marsh, his heirs, executors, and administrators, or any of them, shall well and truly pay, or cause to lift paid, unto the above-named Clark Wilson, his executors, administrators, or assigns, the just and full sum of five hundred dollars, on the tenth day of March, 189 , with interest, at six per cent, per annum, payable half-yearly from the date hereof, without fraud or other delay, then the above obligation to be void ; otherwise, to remain in full force. And it is hereby expressly agreed, that, should any default be made in the payment of the said interest, or of any part thereof, on any day whereon the same is made payable, as above expressed, and should the same remain unpaid and in arrear for the space of thirty days, then and from thenceforth that is to say, after the lapse of the said thirty days the aforesaid principal sum of five hundred dollars, with all arrearages of interest thereon, shall at the option of the said Clark Wilson, or his executors, administrators, or assigns, become and be due anr^ payable immediately thereafter, although the period first above limited for the payment thereof may not then have expired, anything hereinbefore contained to the contrary thereof in anywise notwithstanding. MORTIMER MARSH. [SEAI,.] Executed and delivered in presence of CALVIN KEYES, J. C. GALLOWAY. AMOUNT OF BOND OBLIGATIONS VOID OR EFFECTIVE Form of Bond, with Power of Attorney to Confess Judgment. KNOW Alyl, MEN BY THESE PRESENTS, That John G. Parsons, of the city of Richmond, State of Virginia, is held and firmly bound unto Richard Jones, of the city and State aforesaid, in the sum of one thousand dollars, lawful money of the United States of America, to be paid, on the first day of March, 189 , to the said Richard Jones, or his certain attorney, executors, adminis trators, or assigns; to which payment well and truly to be made, his heirs, executors, and administrators, are firmly bound by these presents. Sealed with his seal, dated the first day of January, 189 . The condition of this obligation is : That if the above-bounden John G. Parsons, his heirs, executors, administrators, or any of them, shall and do well and truly pay, or cause to be paid, unto the above-named Richard Jones, or his attorney, executors, administrators, or assigns, the just sum of five hundred dollars, with out any fraud or further delay, then the above obligation to be void, or else to be and remain iu full force and effect. JOHN G. PARSONS. Sealed and delivered in the presence of B. T. SMITH, A. H. To George Howard, Esq., attorney of the Circuit Court, at Richmond, in the county of Heurico, in the State of Virginia, or to any other attorney of the said court, or of any other court, there or elsewhere. Whereas, John G. Parsons, in and by a certain obligation bearing even date herewith, does stand bound unto Richard Jones, in the sum of one thousand dollars, lawful money of the United States of America, conditioned for the payment of *. certain promissory note, dated Jan uary ist, 189 BILLS OF SALE, BONDS AND ASSIGNMENTS. ?OWER OF ATTORNEY -ORM OF RELEASE 419 These are to desire and authorize you, or any of you, to appear for said John G. Parsons, his heirs, executors, or administrators, in the said court or elsewhere, in an action of debt, there or elsewhere brought, or to be brought, against me, or my heirs, executors, or administrators, at the suit of the said Richard Jones, his executors, administrators, or assigns, on the said obligation, as of any term or time past, present, or any other subsequent term or time there or elsewhere to be held, and confess judgment thereupon against me, or my heirs, executors, or administrators, for the sum of five hundred dollars, debt, besides cost of suit, in such manner as to you shall seem meet ; and for your, or any of your so doing, this shall be your sufficient warrant. And I do hereby for myself, and for my heirs, executors, and administrators, remise, release and forever quit-claim unto the said Richard Jones, or his attorney, executors, administrators, and assigns, all and all manner of error and errors, misprisions, misentries, delects and imper fections whatever, in the entering of the said judgment, or any process or proceedings thereon or thereto, or anywise touching or concerning the same. In witness whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and seal the first day of January l A. D. 189 . JOHN G. PARSONS. [SEAT,.] Sealed and delivered in presence of ALFRED JEROME, \ GEORGE PEASE. / ASSIGNMENTS. An assignment is an instrument by which a person transfers a debt, obligation, bond, or wages, or any actual interest, to another. An assignment may be written on the back of the instrument it is intended to convey, or it may be written on a separate paper. Only when made in good faith is an assignment valid. Any interested party can test its validity in an action. If the assign ment was made to evade debts due to cred itors it will be set aside, but such fraud must be proven before a jury, else it will stand. An assignment for the benefit of his cred itors must be an unconditional surrender by a debtor of all his effects. To secretly hold back any property is fraudulent, and punish able by statute. An insolvent debtor is allowed to prefer one creditor to the exclusion of all others, if he does so in good faith. Even should an other creditor commence suit against him, he can still prefer one. An insolvent debtor making an assign ment in trust to pay certain creditors, who are to transfer the residue to the debtor, is void as to the remaining creditors, even if evidence is offered that there will be no sur< plus. An assignment authorizing the assignee to change, at discretion, the order of preference of creditors, is void. An immediate delivery of the property must accompany an assignment for the ben efit of creditors. Assignees and trustees are entitled to tht same compensation that is allowed to ad- ministrators, executors and guardians. Assignments, and assignments of moit' gage, must be acknowledged and recorded, like all other conveyances of property. BENJAMIN HARRISON Form of Assignment of a Promissory Note. ( To be written on the back of the note.) I hereby, for value received, assign and transfer th within written note, together with al rights under the same, to Benjamin Harrison. JOHN WANAMAKER. CHAPTER XXXV. Deeds and Mortgages. O documents employed in business are more important than deeds and mortgages. In former times, any writing signed and sealed was termed a deed. Now, the law confines the meaning to instru ments for the sale of lands. In this country, 'no lands can be transferred excepting by a jleed, which must be properly signed, sealed, witnessed, acknowledged, delivered, and recorded. In some of the States, seals are not necessary to the validity of a deed. A deed should be written or printed on parchment, as paper is more perishable in character. The person making the deed is called the grantor ; the person in whose favor the deed is made is called the grantee. The deed should be signed by the grantor with his full name, written clearly in ink of the best quality. A person accepting a deed signed with a lead-pencil places his rights in jeopardy. If the grantor cannot write his name, he may make his mark. The name of the grantee should be written clearly, with good ink, in the proper place in the deed. In the States which require a seal great catre must be given to see that only those recognized in law are used. Strictly speak ing, a seal is a piece of paper wafered on, or fl piece of sealing-wax pressed on the paper. In the New England States and in New York, the law does not acknowledge any other kind. In the Southern and Western States, the written word Seal, with a scrawl around it, placed after the signature, con stitutes a legal seal. 430 A deed must be delivered in order to ren der it valid. There is no special form neces sary to constitute a proper delivery. If the deed comes into the possession of the grantee with the knowledge and consent of the gran tor, however it may have been gotten posses sion of, it is a valid delivery. If a man makes a deed and fails to deliver it, and dies with it in his possession, the deed is of no effect whatever. A deed to a married woman may be delivered either to her or to her husband. Some of the States r^-iire that deeds shall be attested by two witnesses. New York requires but one. Other States do not require any witnesses; but in all cases a deed ought to be witnessed by at least two persons, whether the law requires it or not. It is best to have adult witnesses ; but minors may act in the capacity if they be of sound mind. The witness must have no interest in the deed. For this reason a wife cannot witness her husband's signature. As a general rule, deeds are valid between parties even when not acknowledged. It is always best to have them acknowledged, how ever, as an unacknowledged deed cannot be recorded. The acknowledgment must be made before a person authorized by law to receive it In some places a deed may be acknowledged by either of the grantors, but the old custom of an acknowledgment by all the grantors is the safest as well as the most general. Where a wife joins with her hus band in conveying away her land, or does so separately, a particular form and mode of acknowledgment is generally required to DEEDS AND MORTGAGES. 42* show that she acted without undue influence from him, and of her own free will. It is the duty of the justice taking the acknowledgment to state in his certificate exactly how it was made before him. A deed must be recorded to be valid. Inat is, the grantee must deliver it to the Recorder of Deeds, or other official appointed by law for that purpose, who must cause it to be copied in full in a book kept in his office for that purpose. A deed is regarded as recorded from the moment it is placed in the hands of this officer, and he generally writes upon it the year, month, day, hour, and minute when he received it. Deeds should be presented for record at the earliest possible moment. Sometimes the owner ship to the land conveyed may depend upon the exact minute at which the deed was delivered for record. This system of record ing deeds enables a person to trace the title to a property with absolute certainty. - All erasures or additions to a deed should be noted at the end of it, and properly wit nessed. Any such change without being thus provided for renders the deed null and void. In order to make a valid deed, the grantor must be the true and lawful owner of the property ; must be of legal age ; and must be of sound mind. A deed takes effect, as between the parties, from the moment of its delivery. It takes effect as against the creditors of the grantor from the moment of its delivery for record. The land conveyed in the deed should be accurately described, no pains being spared in this respect. In this country it is the usual custom to refer to the previous deeds by which the grantor obtained his title. This is done by describing them, their parties, date, and book and page of registry, A deed thus described in a deed becomes, for most purposes in law, a part of the deed referring. A deed should convey land to the grantee and his heirs. Deeds conveying land to the grantee only, limit his title to his life, and he cannot leave lands thus acquired to his heirs ; nor can he dispose of it during his lire. DATE OF DEED AMOUNT TO BE PAID EXTENT OF SALE Warranty Deed with Covenants, THIS INDENTURE, made this eighteenth day of March, in the year of our Lord 189 , between Ben Cooper, of Ramsey, County of Fayette, State of Illinois, and Mary, his wife, of the first part, and L. Y. Rood, of the same place, of the second part, Witnesseth, that the said party of the first part, for and in consideration of the sum of Three Thousand Dollars in hand, paid by the said party of the second part, the receipt whereof is here by acknowledged, have granted, bargained, and sold, and by these presents do grant, bargain and sell, unto the said party of the second part, his heirs and assigns, all the following described jot, piece, or parcel of land, situated in the town of Ramsey, in the County of Fayette, and State of Illinois, to wit : \JFIere describe the property^ Together with all and singular the hereditaments and appurtenances thereunto belonging or in any wise appertaining, and the reversion and reversions, remainder and remainders, rents, issues, and profits thereof; and all the estate, right, title, interest, claim and demand whatsoever, of the said party of the first part, either in law or equity, of, in, and to the above bargained pren> ises, with the hereditaments and appurtenances : To have and to hold the said premises above bargained and described, with the appurtenances, unto the said party of the second part, his heirs and assigns, forever. And the said Ben Cooper, and Mary his wife, parties of the first part, hereby expressly waive, release and relinquish unto the said party of the second part, his heirs, executors, administrators, and assigns, all right, title, claim, interest, and benefit whatever, in and to the above described premises, and each and every part thereof, which is given by of * suits from all laws of this State pertaining to the exemption of homesteads. 422 BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. COVENANTS And the said Ben Cooper and Mary Cooper, his -wife, party of the first part, for t and their heirs, executors, and administrators, do covenant, grant, bargain, and agree, to and with the said party of the second part, his heirs and assigns, that at the time of the ensealing and delivery of these presents they were well seized of the premises above conveyed, as of a good, sure, perfect, absolute, and indefeasible estate of inheritance in law, and in fee simple, and have good right, full power, and lawful authority to grant, bargain, sell, and convey the same, in manner and form aforesaid, and that the same are free and clear from all former and other grants, bargains, sales, liens, taxes, assessments, and encumbrances of what kind or nature soever " and the above bargained premises in the quiet and peaceable possession of the said party of the second part, his heirs and assigns, against all and every person or persons lawfully claiming or to claim the whole or any part thereof, the said party of the first part shall and will warrant and forever defend. In testimony whereof, the said parties of the first part have hereunto set their hands and seals the day and year first above written. Signed, sealed, and delivered in presence of) BEN COOPER. [SEAL.] J. U. BARTHOLOMEW. I MARY COOPER. [SEAL.] MONEY CONSIDERATION Quit-Claim Deed Simple Form. THIS INDENTURE, Made the first day of January, in the year of our Lord 189 , between Thomas Barry, merchant, of the town of West Chester, State of Pennsylvania, of the first part, and Albert Nicholas, farmer, of the town and State aforesaid, of the second part, witnesseth, that the said party of the first part, for and in consideration of the sum of five thousand dollars, lawful money of the United States of America, to him in hand paid by the said party of the second part, at or before the ensealing and delivery of these presents, the receipt whereof is hereby acknowledged, has remised, released, and quitclaimed, and by these presents does remise, release, and quitclaim, unto the said party of the second part, and to his heirs and assigns, forever, all \Here insert a minute and accurate description of the lands or property granted. .] TOGETHER with all and singular the tenements, hereditaments, and appurtenances thereto belonging or in anywise appertaining, and the reversion and reversions, remainder and remain ders, rents, issues, and profits thereof. And also all the estate, right, title, interest, property, possession, claim, and demand whatsoever, as well in law as in equity, of the said party of the first part, of, in, or to the above-described premises, and every part and parcel thereof, with the appurtenances : To have and to hold all and singular the above-mentioned and described prem ises, together with the appurtenances, unto the said party of the second part, and his heirs and assigns forever. IN WITNESS WHEREOF, The said party of the first part has hereunto set his hand and seal the day and year first above written. THOMAS BARRY. [SEAL.] Seated and delivered in presence of O. B. GILMORE, | JAMES MACAN. j STATE OF PENNSYLVANIA, COUNTY OF CHESTER. J ' On this first day of January, in the year 189 , before me personally came Thomas Barry, who is known by me to be the individual described in, and who executed the foregoing instru ment, and acknowledged that he executed the same. HIRAM GRANT- [SEAL.] Deed of Gift, without Warranty. THIS INDENTURE, Made the first day of March, in the year of our Lord 189 , between N. T. Harper, merchant, of the city of Baltimore, State of Maryland, of the first part, and Greene Hawes, attorney-at-law, of the city and State aforesaid, of the second part. DEEDS AND MORTGAGES. 423 WiTNESSETH, That the said N. T. Harper, as well for and in consideration of the love and affection which he has and bears towards the said Greene Hawes, as for the sum of one dollar, lawful money of the United States, to hin in hand paid by the said party of the second part, at or before the ensealing and delivery of tL s^i presents, the receipt whereof is hereby acknowl edged, has given, granted, aliened, enfeoffed, released, conveyed, and confirmed, and by these presents does give, grant, alien, enfeoff, release, convey, and confirm unto the said party of the second part and his heirs and assigns forever, all [Here insert a minute and carefully prepared description of the property granted, and refer by volume and page to the deed cf the property to th* grantor t under -which he holds it.~\ TOGETHER with all and singular tue tenements, hereditaments, and appurtenances there- FUlk SURRENDER tmto belonging or in anywise appertaining, and the reversion and reversions, remainder and remainders, rents, issues and profits thereof. Ar:d also, all the estate, right, title, interest, property, possession, claim, and demand whatsoever, of the said party of the first part, of, in, and to the same, and every part and parcel thereof, with their and every of their appurtenances. To have and to hold the said hereby granted and described premises, and every part and parcel thereof, with the appurtenances, unto the said party of the second part, and his heirs and assigns, to his and their only proper use, benefit, and behoof forever. IN WITNESS WHEREOF, The said party of the first part has hereunto set his hand and seal the day and year first above written. N. T. HARPER. [SEAI,.] Sealed and delivered in presence of BYRON WAT*SWORTH, -i SAMUEL PRATT. j MORTGAGES. A MORTGAGE is a deed conveying real estate to a creditor, as security for a debt. It conveys the property to him as fully and absolutely as though it were sold outright, with this difference that the debtor retains by the terms of the deed the right to pay the debt and redeem the property within a specified time. The person giving a mortgage is called the mortgagor / the person receiving one, the mortgagee. A note is generally given by the debtor, and the mortgage is designed to secure it. In some of the States, a bond is given in place of the note. The words of the mort gage should state clearly which is given. The mortgagee has a valid title to the property conveyed, and all the mortgagor owns in relation to it is the right to pay the debt and redeem the property. Hence, unless right to enter upox* the property and take possession of it. ft is, therefore, customary to give the mortgagor the right of possession. In former years a mortgagor lost his right to redeem his property when the mortgage was unpaid on the day it became due. Now, however, the law secures to him three years after the expiration of the mortgage, in which he may pay the debt, with interest and costs, and redeem his property. This is called his equity of redemption. The mortgagor may sell his equity of redemp tion, or, he may mortgage it by making a second or other subsequent mortgage of the property, and it may be attached by creditors, and would go to assignees as a part of his property if he became insolvent. As many persons object to lending money upon mortgages in which this equity of redemption is reserved, it has become com- the deed expressly stipulates that the mort- j mon of late years, to include in the mortgage gagor may remain in possession of the prop- a clause stipulating that if the money is not erty until the time for the payment of the paid when it is due, the mortgagee may, in debt arrives, the mortgagee has a perfect ] a certain number of days thereafter, sell the 424 BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. property (providing also such precautions to secure a fair price as may be agreed upon), and, reserving enough to pay his debt and charges, pay over the balance to the mort gagor. This is called a power of sale mort gage, and is an arrangement sanctioned by the law. It must be remembered, however, that the equity of redemption exists in all mortgages which do not contain the above express stipulation. The three years of redemption begin on the day on which the mortgagee forecloses the mortgage, or, in other words, takes law ful possession of the property. If the mort gagee allows a dozen years to pass without foreclosing, he must reckon the three years of redemption from the day of foreclosure. In foreclosing, he must make entry upon the property in a peaceable manner, in the presence of witnesses, or by an action at law. The mode of procedure is governed by the laws of the several States. When a mortgagor wishes to redeem his property, he must make a formal tender of the debt due, together with interest and all the lawful charges of the mortgagee. He is entitled to such rents or profits as the mort gagee has actually received, or would have received had he used due diligence in collect ing them. It is usual for the mortgage to contain an agreement that the mortgagor shall keep the premises insured in a certain sum for the benefit of the mortgagee. Where no such stipulation is made, and the mortgagee insures the premises, he cannot recover the cost of the insurance from the mortgagor. Should a mortgagor erect buildings upon mortgaged land, the mortgagee, on taking possession, becomes the owner of these buildings also. If, however, the mortgagee erects buildings upon lands on which he holds a mortgage, the mortgagor, upon redeeming the land, becomes the owner of such buildings without paying the mort gagee for them. Such matters may, and should always, be regulated by an agree ment between the parties. In some of the States _ is usual to release a mortgage by a quit-claim deed from the holder of the mortgage to the holder of the property or of the equity of redemption. Another common practice is for the Register or Recorder of Deeds to write an acknowl edgment of satisfaction, release, or discharge, on the margin of the record of the mortgage, which must be signed by the mortgagee or holder of the mortgage. Any instrument, or writing which plainly states that the sum or sums due upon such mortgage have been faithfully paid, will constitute a valid release of the mortgage. Such instrument must be duly signed, sealed, and recorded. A release of a mortgage takes effect from the time it is placed in the hands of the Recorder of Deeds, whose duty it is to record in a book kept for that purpose all proper releases or discharges, or satisfactions of this kind. PARTIES NAMED AND DATE AMOUNT OF INDEBTEDNESS Real Estate Mortgage to Secure Payment of Money. THIS INDENTURE, Made this nineteenth day of October, in the year of our Lord, 189 > between W. H. Harrison, of Urbana, County of Champaign, and State of Illinois, and Helen, his wife, party of the first part, and Robert Fairchild, party of the second part. WHEREAS, The said party of the first part is justly indebted to the said party of the second part, in the sum of Four Thousand dollars, secured to be paid by two certain promissory notes (bearing even date herewith) the one due and payable at the First National Bank at Champaign, 111., with interest, on the nineteenth day of October, in the year 189 ; the other due and payable at the First National Bank at Champaign, 111., with interest, on the nineteenth day o ; October, 189 . BONDS AND MORTGAGES. 425 SRANT AND CONVEYANCE FULL RELEASE tfVIOLABLE PROVISION Now, THEREFORE, THIS INDENTURE WITNESSETH, That the said party of the first part, for the better securing the payment of the money aforesaid, with interest thereon, according to tba tenor and effect of the said two promissory notes above mentioned ; and, also, in consideration of the further sum of one dollar to them in hand paid by the said party of the second part, at the delivery of these presents, the receipt whereof is hereby acknowledged, have granted, bargained, sold, and conveyed, and by these presents do grant, bargain, sell, and convey, unto the said party of the second part, his heirs and assigns, forever, all that certain parcel of land, situate, etc./ [Describing the premises. ,] To have and to hold the same, together with all and singular the tenements, hereditament^ privileges, and appurtenances thereunto belonging or in any wise appertaining. And also, all the estate, interest, and claim whatsoever, in law as well as in equity, which the party of the first part have in and to the premises hereby conveyed unto the said party of the second part, his heirs and assigns, and to their only proper use, benefit, and behoof. And the said W. H. Harrison, and Helen, his wife, party of the first part, hereby expressly waive, relinquish, release, and convey unto the said party of the second part, his heirs, executors, administrators, and assigns, all right, title, claim, interest, and benefit whatever, in and to the above described premises, and each, and every part thereof, which is given by or results from all ^aws of this State pertaining to the exemption of homesteads. PROVIDED ALWAYS, and these presents are upon this express condition, that if tiie said party of the first part, their heirs, executors, or administrators, shall well and truly pay, or cause to be paid, to the said party of the second part, his heirs, executors, administrators, or assigns, the aforesaid sums of money, with such interest thereon, at the time and in the manner specified in the above mentioned promissory notes, according to the true intent and meaning thereof, then in that case, these presents and everything herein expressed, shall be absolutely null and void. IN WITNESS WHEREOF, the said party of the first part hereunto set their hands and seals the day and year first above written. Signed, sealed and delivered 1 in presence of I W. H. HARRISON. [r,. s.] OTIS OBER, HELEN HARRISON, [i,. S.] ANDREW AUSTIN. J CHATTEL MORTGAGES A Chattel Mortgage is a mortgage given upon personal property for the purpose of securing a creditor. Formerly, if the mort gagor remained in possession of the property, it was doubtful whether the mortgagee held a valid security. Now, however, in most of the States, the mortgagor may retain the property and the mortgagee is fully secured by recording the mortgage, according to the provisions of the statutes of the State in which it is made. Al! chattel mortgages should contain a clause providing for the equity of redemp tion. The average period allowed for re demption is sixty days. This right may be waived by including in the mortgage a power of sale clause. The mortgagee may transfer the mortgage to another party for a valuable consideration, but property thus mortgaged cannot be seized or sold until the period for which the mortgage was given has expired. MONEY CONSIDERATION Chattel Mortgage, with Power of Sale. KNOW Aw, MEN BY THESE PRESENTS, That I, B. B. Beardsley, of the City of Louisville, State of Kentucky, in consideration of five hundred dollars to me paid by Gall Barnum, of the City and State aforesaid, the receipt of which is hereby acknowledged, do hereby grant, bargain, and sell unto the said Gall Barnum, and his assigns, forever, the following goods and chat tels, to wit : \Here insert an accurate list of the articles mortgaged) giving a full description of 'tack .] 426 BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. QRANTOR'S RIGHT ; CASE OF 0. fAULT To HAVE AND TO Hou>, All and singular, the said goods and chattels unto the mortgagee herein, and his assigns, to their sole use and behoof forever. And the mortgagor herein, for himself and for his heirs, executors, and administrators, does hereby covenant to and with the said mortgagee and his assigns, the said mortgagor is lawfully possessed of the said goods and chattels, as of his own property ; that the same are free from all incumbrances, and that he will warrant and defend the same to him, the said mortgagee and his assigns, against the lawful claims and demands of all persons. PROVIDED, NEVERTHELESS, That if the said mortgagor shall pay to the mortgagee, on the tenth day of May, in the year 189 , the sum of five hundred dollars, then this mortgage is to 1 void, otherwise to remain in full force and effect. AND PROVIDED FURTHER, That until default be made by the said mortgagor in the pcnorm- ance of the condition aforesaid, it shall and may be lawful for him to retain the possession of the said goods and chattels, and to use and enjoy the same ; but if the same or any part thereof shall be attached or claimed by any other person or persons at any time before payment, or the said mortgagor, or any person or persons whatever, upon any pretence, shall attempt to carry off, conceal, make way with, sell, or in any manner dispose of the same or any part thereof, without the authority and permission of the said mortgagee, or his executors, administrators, or assigns, in writing expressed, then it shall and may be la -ful for the said mortgagee, with or without assistance, or his agent or attorney, or his executors, administrators, or assigns, to take possession of said goods and chattels, by entering upon any premises wherever the same may be, whether in this County or State, or elsewhere, to and for the use of said mortgagee or his assigns. And if the moneys hereby secured, or the matters to be done or performed, as above specified, are not duly paid, done or performed at the time and according to the conditions above set forth, then the said mortgagee, or his attorney or agent, or his executors, administrators, or assigns, may by virtue hereof, and without any suit or process, immediately enter and take pos session of said goods and chattels, and sell and dispose of the same at public or private sale, and after satisfying the amount due, and all expenses, the surplus, if any remain, shall be paid over to said mortgagor or his assigns. The exhibition of this mortgage shall be sufficient proof that any person claiming to act for the mortgagee is duly made, constituted and appointed agent and attorney to do whatever is above authorized. WITNESS WHEREOF, The said mortgagor has hereunto set his hand and seal this tenth d?v f May, in the year of our Lord, 189 . B. B. BEARDSLEY. [SBAI,."/ Sealed and delivered in presence of STATE of KENTUCKY, JEFFERSON COUNTY WIWJAM FRYE, "I E. R. JOHNSON. / Y, -> r- This mortgage was acknowledged before me b> B. B. Beardsley, this tenth day of May? A. D. 189 . JOHN POLK, 7 o CHAPTER XXXVI. Rights and Duties of Landlords and Tenants. LARGE part of the business of our civil courts would cease if those who lease property and those who lire it had clear and definite legal forms to follow. These would enable them to come to a perfect, mutual understanding, and pre vent a vast amount of litigation which now results from mere verbal agreements, and a foilure of the parties to understand their mutual rights and obligations. A landlord is the owner of real estate who hires or lets his property to another person for a valuable consideration. The person who occupies rented property is called the tenant. The agreement between the land lord and the tenant stating the terms upon which the latter occupies the property is called; the lease. The person granting the lease is called in Ia\v the lessor ; the person to whom the lease is made is known as the 'essee. Written Leases. Leases should be written. No particular form of words is essential, but the lease should state in the clearest manner the terms and conditions of the agreement, so that nothing may be left to dispute between the landlord and tenant. The law does not recognize verbal promises as binding. Therefore the lease must state explicitly >C.\ the covenants between the parties. No matter how bad the condition of a house, the landlord is under no legal obliga tion to make the necessary repairs unless he pees fit to do so. The lease should therefore contain a clause providing for the necessary repairs. Under an ordinary lease, should the house; be destroyed by fire the tenant must continue to pay the rent, because the law looks upon the land as the principal thing leased, and the house as merely secondary. So also, if the tenant agrees to "return and redeliver the house at the end of the term, in good order and condition, reasonable wear and tear excepted," he is bound by this agree ment to rebuild the house should it be destroyed by fire. At present all well- drawn leases provide that the rent shall cease in case the house shall be destroyed or rendered uninhabitable by fire or any other unavoidable calamity. A similar clause is also inserted with regard to the return of the house. Such a clause in a lease relieves the tenant of the obligation to rebuild the house, even though it should be burned through his own carelessness or that of his servants. Sub-letting. Where the landlord desires to prevent his tenant from sub-letting a part or the whole of the premises, he must provide for it in the lease. A person holding a lease which does not contain this prohibition can sub-let at his pleasure. The lease should definitely state the period for which it is given. If no time is specified,, the tenant can hold the property for one year, but no longer. A tenant-at-will can-' not vacate the property without giving notice of his intention, nor can he be put out without being given notice of the land lord's desire to regain possession of the property. The laws in the various States 427 428 BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. Are quite uniic:~a as to the time of notice required. If the rent be payable quarterly, three months' notice must be given. If it be payable at more frequent periods, then the notice must equal in length the period of the payment. If the rent is payable monthly, a month's notice is sufficient; if weekly, a week's notice will answer. A lease given for a specified time, as one year, expires at the end of that time, and the tenant may leave without giving notice, or the landlord may put him out without notice. A lease should be recorded, whether the law requires it or not. Such record binds a subsequent purchaser of the property to assume all the obligations of the former landlord as expressed in the lease. A lease should be drawn in duplicate, and each party to it should retain a copy. Damages. Where a tenant is induced through the wilful misrepresentations of a landlord to lease property, and thereby suffers loss or inconvenience, he can deduct the amount of his damages from the rent, and the land lord is bound to bear the loss. A landlord, in accepting a new tenant in place of the original holder of the lease, cancels by this act the original lease. Repairs. A tenant is not bound to make repairs unless he agrees to do so. The landlord can, however, require him to keep the roof and windows in good order, so as to protect the house from injury by rain. A tenant is not bound to pay the taxes on the property he occupies unless he expressly agrees to do so. In case a lease contains a clause forbidding the tenant to sub-let the property, and the tenant, in spite of this, does sub-let it, the landlord may either hold the tenant for the rent and for such damages as he may sustain by such sub-letting, or he may enter upon the property and take possession of it, and terminate the lease. He may avail himself of either remedy, but not of both. Notice to Quit. When the rent is in arrear, a brief notice to quit may be given. The average period in the several States is fourteen days. It must specify the day on which the tenant must leave. A tenant of a farm is bound to cultivate the land in the ordinary way required bv good and careful husbandry and the custom of the neighborhood in which the farm is located. Any departure from such customs should be stipulated for in the lease. If the lease of a farm is terminated by any event which the tenant could not foresee or control, he is entitled to the annual crop which he sowed while the lease was run ning. Should the tenant purchase the property before the expiration of the lease, such pur chase terminates the lease, as it vests him with all the former owner's rights^ Tenant's Responsibility. A tenant is responsible for any injury a stranger may sustain by reason of his failure to keep the premises in good condition ; as, by not keeping the covers of his vaults suf ficiently closed, so that a person walking in the street falls through or is injured thereby. If he repairs or improves the building, he must make such provision as will ensure the safety of the passers-by, or he is responsible for such injuries as they may suffer in con sequence of his neglect. Should a person lease a house and use it for immoral purposes, he forfeits the lease by such act All improvements of a permanent char acter made bv the tenant upon property RIGHTS AND DUTIES OF LANDLORDS AND TENANTS. 429 teased by him become the property of the landlord, and cannot be removed. Fences, out-houses, etc., are regarded as belonging to the land, no matter who puts them there. There are things, however, that a tenant can add, and afterwards remove. The general rule is that the tenant may remove whatever lie has placed upon the property that can be DATE SITUATION OF PROPERTY AMOUNT OF RENTAL RETURN OF POSSESSION DATE SITUATION OF .""^OPERTY RENTAL AND PAYMENTS VACATION OF PROPERTY PENALTIES COVENANT NOT TO SUBLET taken away, leaving the premises in as good condition as when he received them. Among these are ornamental chimney-pieces, coffee mills, cornices screwed on, furnaces, fire- frames, stoves, iron backs to chimneys, look* ing-glasses, pumps, gates, rails and posts, out-buildings set on blocks and not fixed in the ground. Short Form of Lease for a House. THIS INSTRUMENT, made the first day of May, 189 , witnesseth, that Philander Barr, of Ashe- ville, County of Buncombe, State of North Carolina, hath rented from D. S. Allen, of Asheville aforesaid, the dwelling and lot No. 50 Broadway, situated in said town of Asheville, for four years from the above date, at the yearly rental of two hundred and forty dollars payable monthly, on the first day of each month, in advance, at the residence of said D. S. Allen. At the expiration of said above mentioned term, the said Barr agrees to give said Allen peaceable possession of the said dwelling, in as good condition as when taken, ordinary wear and casualties excepted. IN WITNESS WHEREOF, we place our hands and seals the day and year aforesaid. Signed, sealed, and delivered in presence of ^ JABEZRAXDAI/, PHILANDER BARR. [r, s.] Notary Public.) D.S.ALLEN, [i,. s.] Lease of Dwelling House for a Term of Tears, with a Covenant not to Sub-let. THIS INDENTURE, made this first day of May, 189 , between Meeleg Foster, of Oxford, County of Benton, and State of Alabama, party of the first part, and Elam H. Annis, of the same town, county, and state, party of the second part, WiTNESSETH, That the said pa r ty of the first part, in consideration of the covenants of the said party of the second part, hereinafter set forth, does by these presents lease to the said party of the second part the following described property, to wit : The dwelling house and certain parcel of land, situated on the south side of Main street, between Spring and Elm streets, known as No. 76 Main street. To have and to hold the same to the said party of the second part, from the first day of May, 189 , to the thirtieth day of April, 189 . And the said party of the second part, in consideration of the leasing the premises as above set forth, covenants and agrees with the party of the first part, to pay the said party of the first part, as rent for the same, the sum of one hundred and eighty dollars per annum, payable quarterly in advance, at the residence of said party of the first part, or at his place of business. The said party of the second part further covenants with the party of the first part, that at the expiration of the time mentioned in this lease, peaceable possession of the said premises shall be given to said party of the first part, in as good condition as they now are, the usual wear, in evitable accidents, and loss by fire, excepted ; and that upon the non-payment of the whole or any portion of the said rent at the time when the same is above promised to be paid, the said party of the first part may, at his election, either distrain for said rent due, or declare this lease at an end, and recover possession as if the same were held by forcible detainer ; the said party of the second part hereby waiving any notice of such election, or any demand for the possession of such premises. And it is further covenanted and agreed, between the parties aforesaid, that said Elam H. Annis shall use the above mentioned dwelling for residence purposes only, and shall not sub-let any portion of the same to others, without permission from said Meeleg Foster. The covenants herein shall extend to and be binding upon the heirs, executors, and admin istrators of the parties to this lease. Witness the hands and seals of the parties aforesaid. MEELEG FOSTER, [r,. s.] ELAM H. ANNIS. [i,. s.] 430 DATE PROPERTY DESCRIBED CENTAL AND PAYMENTS AGREEMENT TO VACATE FORFEIT BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. Form of Lease Generally Used in the Western States. THIS INDENTURE, Made this first day of May, 189 , between G. C. Cox, of the City of Rich mond, State of Indiana, party of the first part, and N. D. Sperry, of the city and state aforesaid, WiTNESSETH, That the said party of the first part, in consideration of the covenants of the said party of the second part, hereinafter set forth, do by these presents lease to the said party of the second part the following described property, to wit : The brick dwelling and certain parcel of land, situated on the south side of Church street, between Ninth and Tenth streets, and known as No. 920 Church street. To HAVE AND to HOI,D the same to the said party of the second part, from the first day of May, 189 , to the first day of May, 189 . And the said party of the second part, in considera tion of the leasing the premises as above set forth, covenants and agrees with the party of the first part to pay the said party of the first part, as rent for the same, the sum of six hundred dollars, payable as follows, to wit : in equal sums of fifty dollars on the first day of each and every month, payable at the residence or place of business of the said party of the first part. The said party of the second part further covenants with the said party of the first part, that at the expiration of the time mentioned in this lease, peaceable possession of the said premises shall be given to the said party of the first part, in as good condition as they now are, the usual wear, inevitable accidents, and loss by fire excepted ; and that upon the non-payment of the whole or any portion of the said rent at the time when the same is above promised to be paid, the said party of the first part may, at his election, either distrain for said rent due, or declare this lease at an end, and recover possession as if the same was held by forcible detainer ; the said party of the second part hereby waiving any notice of such election, or any demand for the possession of said premises. The covenants herein shall extend to and be binding upon the heirs, executors, au* administrators of the parties to this lease. Witness the hands and seals of the parties aforesaid. G. C. COX. [SEA*,.] Sealed and delivered in presence of N. D. SPERRY. [SEAI,.] YOUNG AMBLER, DAVID BRICKDUST. } Form of Lease of a Farm and Building*. THIS AGREEMENT, Made this first day of January, 189 , between Peleg Ross, of Shawnee County, State of Kansas, party of the first part, and O. B. Scott, of the county and State afore said, party of the second part, WiTNESSETH, That the said Peleg Ross lets, and the said O. B. Scott agrees to take and hold of him as tenant all that parcel of land, with the buildings and improvements appertaining and belonging to it, situate [Here insert an accurate and careful description of the property I\ From the first day of February next ensuing, upon the terms following, that is to say ; Said tenant shall be deemed a tenant from year to year ; That said tenant enter and take possession of said premises on the first day of February next; That either party may determine the tenancy by a notice in writing, three months before the expiration of any year from the first day of February next preceding ; That said tenant shall go out of possession at the expiration or determination of his term ; That the rent of said premises shall be five hundred dollars per annum, payable in half yearly payments on, etc., and on, etc., without deduction on account of any tax or assessment now in existence or hereafter to be imposed, except, etc., which is to be paid by the said O. B. Scott; REPAIRS That the said tenant agrees to cause the following repairs to be made, viz. , [ffere state the repairs agreed 'upon ,] and to keep the buildings in tenantable repair ; That said tenant agrees to keep the gates and fences in good repair, said tenant finding rough timber or fencing stuff; TENANT'S RIGHTS That said tenant shall not lop or cut any oak, etc., on the estate, except such as have usually AND LIMITATIONS been lopped, and those only to be used for making and repairing the fences to the estate, etc. ; DATE SITUATION OF PROPERTY TERMS RIGHTS AND DUTIES Of LANDLORDS AND TENANTS. 431 COMPENSATION TOR IMPROVE MENTS That said tenant shall not mow any grass or meadow land above once in any one year of his tenancy, and if he breaks up any old meadow or old pasture land;, unless with the said landlord's consent, in writing, then he shall pay the further yearly rent of three dollars for every acre so broken up, and after that rate for any part of an acre ; That said tenant may crop the r.rable land in each year as follows, viz. . one equal third part thereof with wheat or barley, one ether equal third part with beans, peas, clover, or oats, etc., and the remaining third part to lie in fallow ; That said land shall not be cropped with wheat twice, or barley twice, in any period oi tiiiree years ; That said tenant shall use and consume on the farm all hay and straw made and grown thereon ; That said tenant shall use and spread dung and manure arising or made on the farm, in such manner as that every acre in tillage of the farm aforesaid may be well manured once in every three years of his tenancy. Except that all hay and wheat straw on the farm unconsumed at the expiration of the tenancy may be purchased by the landlord or succeeding tenant, at a fair valuation by two indifferent persons, one to be named by each party ; That said tenant shall leave on the premises : without compensation, not only all lent and white straw arising upon or from the premises, and remaining unconsumed thereon at the expi ration of his tenancy, but also all dung and manure arising or made on the farm, and then remaining unconsumed ; That said tenant shall keep clean, by well hoeing, twice at the least, and weeding all the lad whilst cropped with beans, peas, clover, etc. ; That said tenant shall endeavor to prevent any injury by persons, cattle, or sheep, to any of the hedges, or trees, or fences, and to preserve the same, and not to do any injury to any timbej or other trees, in taking such loppings, as before allowed to him ; That said tenant shall not crop or sow any of the land with rape, flax, hemp, etc. That said tenant shall not underlet or assign the premises or av part thereof, except, etc. That said tenant on quitting the farm shall receive such pecuniary compensation for improve ments in fencing, etc., as two arbitrators (one of which arbitrators shall be nominated by each party, and if either neglect to nominate his arbitrator, the other party may nominate both arbi trators) shall award, which arbitrators shall abate according to the benefit derived by the tenant from such repairs, improvements, and additions, and take into consideration how far, at the. expiration of the tenancy, they may be beneficial to the estate. IN WITNESS WHEREOF, The said parties have hereunto set their hands and seals the day and year first above written. PELEG ROSS. [SEAI,.] Sealed and delivered in presence of O. B. SCOTT. [SEAI,.] REUBEN DAY, > A. Y. BEACH, j .'CATION OF OUSE r ENANT'S JGREEMENT Landlord's -Certificate. THIS IS TO CERTIFY, That I have this first day of March, 189 , let and rented unto Wayne Roy, my house and lot known as Number 125, in East Twentieth street, in the city of New York, New York, with the appurtenances, and sole and uninterrupted use thereof, for one year, to commence on the first day of April next, at the yearly rent of eighteen hundred dollars, payable in equal sums of one hundred and fifty dollars on the first day of each and every month. CORNELIUS VANDERBII/T. Tenant's Certificate. THIS IS TO CERTIFY, That I, Wayne Roy, have hired and taken from Cornelius Vanderbilt his house and lot, known as Number 125, in East Twentieth street, in the city of New York, with the appurtenances thereof, for the term of one year, to commence on the first day of April next, at the yearly rent of eighteen hundred dollars, payable in equal sums on the first of each and every month. And I do hereby promise to make punctual payment of the rent in manner aforesaid, except in case the premises become untenantable from fire or any other cause, when the rent is to cease; * 432 BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. Ami I do further promise to quit and surrender the premises at the eviration of the term in as igood state and condition as reasonable use and wear thereof will permit, damages by the elements excepted. Given under my hand this first day of March, 189 . WAYNE ROY. In presence of W. W. NORTHROP, 1 A. S. HATHAWAY. J Landlord's Certificate Fuller Form. THIS IS TO CERTIFY, That I, the undersigned, have, this first day of March, let and rented PHt PREMISED to R. O. L,~e the following premises, situated in Wheeling, in Ohio county, and State <*>f West Virginia, to wit : that certain brick dwelling and lot of ground known as Number 529, in East Twentieth street, in the city of Wheeling, together with the appurtenances, and the sole and uninterrupted use and occupation thereof: For a term of one year, from the first day of April next, at the annual rent of three hundred ANNUAL RENTAL , .. ... , r , - - ., .. - , , - dollars, payable in equal sums of twenty-five collars on the first day of every month. And said tenant has agreed to make punctual payment of the rent in the manner aforesaid, except in case the premises become untenantable, from fire or any other cause, when the rent is to cease ; to quit and surrender the premises at the expiration of said term, in as good a condition as reasonable use and wear thereof will permit, damages by the elements excepted. And not use or occupy said premises in any business deemed extra-hazardous on account of fire or otherwise, nor let or underlet the same, except with the consent of said landlord, in writing, under penalty of forfeiture and damages. And has mortgaged and pledged all the personal property of what kind soever which he snail at any time have on said premises, whether exempt by law from distress for rent, or sale under execution, or not, waiving the benefits of and from the exemption, valuation and appraisement laws of said State to secure the payment thereof. IN WITNESS WHEREOF, He has hereunto set his hand and seal this first day of March, A. D, !8g . FREDERICK "ASCO. [SEAL,.] Sealed and delivered in presence of JOHN DIX.TB, ") POPE Foss. I Tenant's Certificate Fuller Form. THIS IS To CERTIFY, That I, the undersigned, have hired and taken from Frederick Pasco THE PREMIES tlie following premises, situated in Wheeling, Ohio county, State of West Virginia, to wit: that certain brick dwelling and lot of ground known as Number 529, in East Twentieth street, in the city of Wheeling, For a term of one year, from the first day of April, A. D. 189 , at the rate of three hundred 4.NNUAL RENTAL ^ O u ar3) payable in equal sums of twenty-five dollars on the first day of each and every month. And I do hereby agree to make punctual payment of the rent in the manner aforesaid, except PAYMENTS in case the premises become untenantable, from fire or any other cause, when the rent is to cease ; AND FINAL to quit and surrender the premises at the expiration of said term, in as good a condition as reasonable use and wear thereof will permit, damages by the elements excepted. And not use or occupy said premises in any business deemed extra-hazardous on account of fire or otherwise, nor let or underlet the same, except with the consent of said landlord, in writing, under penalty of forfeiture and damages. And do mortgage and pledge all the personal property of what kind soever which he shall at any time have on said premises, whether exempt by law from distress for rent, or sale under execution, or not, waiving the benefits of and from tbe exemption, valua tion and appraisement laws of said State to secure the payment thereof. IN WITNESS WHEREOF, He has hereunto set his hand and seal this first day of March, A. D, 189 . R. O. LEE. [SEAI..J Sealed and delivered in presence of JOHN DIXIE, POPE Foss. TIME ALLOWED FOR VACATING PREMISES DATE OF EXPIRATK3N Of LEASE TERMINATION OF TENANCY PREMISES TO ~ c . VACATED RIGHTS AND DUTIES OF LANDLORDS AND TENANTS. Landlord's Notice to Quit for Non-payment of Rent. 433 STATE of WEST VIRGINIA, -> CITY OF WHEELING. J **' September ist, 189 . To R. O. I/EE : You being in possession of the following described premises, which you occupy as my ten ant, namely, that certain brick dwelling and lot of ground known as Number 529, in East Twentieth street, in the City of Wheeling, County of Ohio, State of West Virginia, aforesaid, are hereby notified to quit and deliver up to me the premises aforesaid, in fourteen days from this date, according to law, your rent being due and unpaid. Hereof fail not, or I shall take a due course of law to eject ou from the same. FREDERICK PASCO. Witness : HENRY COLE. Landlord's Notice to a Tenant to Quit at the End of the Term. To R. O. LEE : SIR. Being in the possession of a certain messuage or tenement, with the appurtenances, situate in the City of Wheeling, and known as Number 529, in East Twentieth street, in said city, which said premises were demised to you by me for a certain term, to wit, from the first day of April, A. D. 189 , until the first day of April, A. D. 189 , and which said term will term inate and expire on the day and year last aforesaid, I hereby give you notice, that it is my desire to have again and re-possess the said messuage or tenement, with the appurtenances, and I there fore do hereby require you to leave the same upon the expiration of the said hereinbefore men tioned term. Witness my hand this first day of March, City of Wheeling, A. D. 189 . FREDERICK PASCO. Witness : HENRY COLE. Landlord's Notice to Determine a Tenancy at Will. STATE OF PENNSYLVANIA, -> COUNTY OF CHESTER. J I WEST CHESTER, PA. , March ist, 189 . To LEMAN CARR : SIR. You being in possession f the following described premises, which you occupy as my tenant at will, known as Number 565, in Mulberry street, in the town of West Chester, are here by notified to quit and deliver up to me the premises aforesaid on the first day of April, 189 v according to law, it being my intention to determine your tenancy at will. Hereof fail not, at I shall take a due course of law to eject vou from the same. H. H. TYRANNIS. Witness : DANIEL LETTER . Form of a Notice to Quit by a Tenant. CHICAGO, January ist, 189 . Mr. C. H. HATCHER: Please to take notice, that on the first day of March next, I shall quit possession aud remov? from the premises I now occupy, known as house and lot No. 57, in Front street, in the City of Chicago. Yours, etc., E. L. TAJ-CQTT. To Mr. C. H. HATCH KR. 28 CHAPTER x*:xvn. Agencies and Collection of Debts. CONSIDERABLE part of every kind of business is doue through agents, the individual or the firm employing a trusted deputy. This system extends to nearly all kinds of commercial transactions, and is regulated by laws in all the States. An agent is a person who is employed by another to represent him in the performance of certain acts. One who is legally incompetent to act on his own account may be an agent for a per son who is competent. Thus, an alien or a married woman may act as an agent. A principal is responsible for the acts of his agents when he, by his acts or words, causes the person with whom the agent deals to believe him to be vested with lawful authority to perform such acts. A person authorized to perform certain designated acts for another is termed a special agent; one who has authority to represent his principal in all his business, or all of his business of a particular kind, is termed a general agent. If a special agent exceeds his aucnority,] the principal is not bound by his act, because the person dealing with such an agent is bound to inform himself of the extent of such agent's powers. In the case of a general agent, the principal is bound by his acts, even though he exceed his authority,, provided that in such acts he does not go beyond the general scope of his business. If, however, the person with whom the agent deals does so with the knowledge that the agent is exceeding his powers, he thereby releases the principal. Authority may be given to an agent either verbally or in writing. If in writing, it may be either under or without seal. If given by a written instrument, this instrument is termed a Power of Attorney. A power of attorney intended to cover much time should be recorded and acknowl edged. The person granting the power of attorney is termed in lav, the constituent ; the person receiving it is called the attorney. :4AME OF PARTY OOWERS CRANTED Form of Power of Attorney in General Use. KNOW ALL MEN BY THESE PRESENTS, That I, Gad Hill, of the city of St. Louis, State of Missouri, have constituted, ordained, and made, and in my stead and place put, and by these presents do constitute, ordain, and make, and in my stead and place put Warren North, of the city of Baltimore, State of Maryland, to be my true, sufficient, and lawful attorney for me and in my name and stead to \Here state explicitly the things the attorney is to do, and the purposes foi ivhick the power is given.~\ Giving and hereby granting unto him, the said attorney, full power and authority in and about the premises ; and to use all due means, course, and process in law, for the full, effectual, and complete execution of the business afore described ; and in my name to make and execute due acquittance and discharge ; and for the premises to appear, and the person of me the con< stituent to represent before any governor, judges, justices, officers, and ministers of the law what soever, in any court or courts of judicature, and there, on my behalf, to answer, defend, anc reply unto all actions, causes, matters, and things whatsoever relating to the premises. 434 AGENCIES AND COLLECTION OF DEBTS. PROVISION FOR ARBITRATION 435 Also to submit any matter in dispute, respecting the premises, to arbitration or otherwise, with full power to make and substitute, for the purposes aforesaid, one or more attorneys undei him, my said attorney, and the same again at pleasure to revoke. And generally to say, do, act, transact, determine, accomplish, and finish all matters and things whatsoever relating to the premises, as fully, amply, and effectually, to all intents and purposes, as I, Gad Hill, the said constituent, if present, ought or might personally, although the matter should require more special authority than is herein comprised, I, Gad Hill, the said constituent, ratifying, allowing, and holding firm and valid all whatsoever my said attorney or his substitutes shall lawfully do, or cause to be done, in and about the premises, by virtue of these presents. IN WITNESS WHEREOF, I have hereunto set my hand and seal, this first day of May, in th* year of our Lord 189 . GAD HILL. [SEAL.] Executed and delivered in presence of B. C. VANCE, AARON SMELTZ. Power of Substitution. KNOW ALL MEN BY THESE PRESENTS, That I, Moses Veale, by virtue of the power and authority to me given, in and by the letter of attorney of J. R. Peck, which is hereunto annexed [or it may be described without being annexed], do make, substitute, and appoint Ralph Barnard, as well for me as the true and lawful attorney and substitute of the said constituent named in the said letter of attorney, to do, execute, and perform all and everything requisite and necessary to be done, as fully, to all intents and purposes, as the said constituent or I myself could do if per sonally present ; hereby ratifying and confirming all that the said attorney and substitute herebj made shall do in the premises by virtue hereof and of the said letter of attorney. IN WITNESS WHEREOF, I have hereunto set my hand and seal the fifteenth day of May A. D. 189 . MOSES VEALE. [SEAL.] Sealed and delivered in presence 01 ROBERT SHERMAN, \ PHILO A. CROWE. ' Proxy, or Power of Attorney to Vote. POWER TO VOTE KNOW ALL MEN BY THESE PRESENTS, That I, Walter Black, of Omaha, do hereby appoint S. H. Reed to be my substitute and proxy for me, and in my name and behalf to vote at any election of directors or other officers, and at any meeting of the stockholders of the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad, as fully as I might or could were I personally present. IN WITNESS WHEREOF, I have hereunto set my hand and seal, this fifth day of February 189. WALTER BLACK. [SEAL.] Witnesses present, SAUL LYONS, \ P. J. FLEGG. > LAWFUL ATTORNEY Power of Attorney to Collect Debts. KNOW ALL MEN BY THESE PRESENTS, That I, John Jay, of Pittsburgh, PennsvKania, constituted, ordained, and made, and in my stead and place put, and by these presents do con stitute, ordain, and make, and in my stead and place put, Peter Lex, of Harrisburgh, Pennsyl vania, to be my true, sufficient, and lawful attorney for me, and in my name and stead, and to my use, to ask, demand, levy, require, recover, and receive of and from all and every person ot persons whomsoever the same shall or may concern, all and singular sum and sums of money, debts, goods, wares, merchandise, effects, and things, whatsoever and wheresoever they shall and may be found due, owing, payable, belonging and coming unto me the constituent, by anj ways and means whatsoever. 436 POWERS &ELESATED QWPUTES TO BE ARMTRATED BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. GIVING AND HEREBY GRANTING unto my said attorney full and whole strength, power, and authority in and about the premises; and to take and use all due means, course, and process in the law, for the obtaining and recovering the same ; and of recoveries and receipts thereof, and in my name to make, seal, and execute due acquittance and discharge ; and for the premises to appear, and the person of me the constituent to represent before any governor, judges, justices, officers and ministers of the law whatsoever, in any court or courts of judicature, and there, on my behalf, to answer, defend, and reply unto all actions, causes, matters and things whatsoever, relating to the premises. Also to submit any matter in dispute to arbitration or otherwise, with full power to make and substitute one or more attorneys and my said attorney, and the same again at pleasure to revoke. And generally to say, do, act, transact, determine, accomplish, and finish, all matters and things whatsoever, relating to the premises, as fully, amply, and effectually, to all intents and purposes, as I the said constituent, if present, ought or might personally, although the matter should require more special authority than is herein comprised, I the said constituent ratifying, allowing, and holding firm and valid, all and whatsoever my said attorney or his substitutes shall lawfully do, or cause to be done, in and about the premises, by virtue of these presents. IN WITNESS WHEREOF, I have hereunto set my hand and seal, this first day of January, in the year of our Lord 189 . TOHN JAY. [SEAT,.] Signed, sealed, and delivered in presence of us, LEANDER PRICE, 1 MYRON A. Siu,. > OF DEBTS. nowhere else. In others, the law grants the creditor a larger latitude. It is not possible to state here the laws of the various States upon this subject. The justice before whom the suit is brought will give the information. Upon receiving a claim for collection, the justice will issue a summons to the debtor, commanding him to appear at his court, at a stated time, and answer to the claim. The summons is placed in the hands of a con stable, who delivers it to or "serves it upon" the person owing the debt. If he cannot find him, or if the debtor hides himself to avoid such service, the constable will deliver the summons to some member of the deb tor's family, who must be ten years old, or over that age. He must then make a report to the justice, stating to whom he delivered the summons, and the circumstances con nected with the service. Settlement without Trial. Should the debtor wish to settle the claim without a trial, he may do so, the justice giving him a receipt for the amount of the It often happens that great difficulty is experienced in the effort to collect debts justly due. Where they can be collected without resorting to legal measures, it is bet ter to exhaust all means of securing them, even though a moderate delay should result Should it become necessary to seek the aid of the law, however, it is well to know the exact steps that should be taken. In seeking to recover debts by legal pro cess, the creditor should first ascertain whe ther the debtor has enough property, real or personal, or both, over and above the amount exempted by law, to make it worth his while to sue him. , Suits for small amounts must be brought before justices of the peace. Should the amount be within the juris diction of the justice of the peace, the cred itor's first step is to place the claim in his hands for collection. Obtaining a Summons. In some of the States a debtor must be sued in the town in which he resides, and AGENCIES AND COLLECTION OF DEBTS. claim and the costs of the service of the sum mons. This ends the matter, and prevents all further costs. Should the debtor decide to let the matter proceed to a trial, the creditor must prove his claim. Should such proof be made, the justice will declare a judgment in favor of the creditor. This is his official statement, that the claim has been proven just, and that the debtor must pay it, together with the in terest and costs allowed by law. Should the creditor fail to prove his claim, the jus tice will dismiss the suit, and the creditor must pay the costs. Either party in a trial before a justice of the peace may demand a jury, and the justice is bound to grant the demand upon the de posit with him of the jury fees by the party making the demand. The jury may consist of either six or twelve men. The justice, upon such demand being made, will issue a writ to the constable to summon the proper number from the citizens of the place, who are competent to serve as jurors. Should the defendant fail to appear before the justice within the time named in the summons, and no good reason be offered for his absence, the justice will dismiss the suit unless the plaintiff demands a trial, then and there, or at some other time. Issuing Execution. Should a demand be made to proceed to immediate trial, the justice will hear the case, and should the claim be proved, will enter a judgment against the defendant, and will issue an execution for its collection. An execittion is a writ addressed to the constable, directing him to carry into effect the decision of the court. It generally di rects him to seize and sell such property of the defendant, not exempt by law, as will satisfy the claim and the costs of the suit. As a general rule the constable has about j seventy days in which to levy upon and sell the property. Should the plaintiff feel satis fied that Ills claim will be endangered unless the goods are seized at once, he may make oath to that effect, and the justice will direct the constable to make the levy at once. As a general rule, the constable cannot sell the goods under twenty days from the time of seizure. Levy on Property. When a levy is made upon his property^ the defendant may claim all the exemptions. This may be determined by two appraisers, one appointed by the defendant, and one by the constable, or the constable himself may act in this capacity. When an execution is placed in the hands of the constable, he will proceed to the place where the property is located, and take pos session of it. He will advertise the property for sale at least ten days before the date of the sale, by causing written or printed notices of the sale to be posted up in three prominent places in the town or neighborhood. At the appointed time, the constable will sell the property at auction to the highest bidder. Arrest of Debtor. In some of the States, when an attach' ment has been issued and placed in the hands of the constable, and he returns that he cannot find any property belonging to the defendant, and the plaintiff has reason to think that the defendant is concealing, or assigning or removing his property with a view to avoid payment, it is the practice to issue a Capias for the arrest of the debtor. This is a very delicate proceeding, and is only resorted to in extreme cases. Before issuing the capias the justice will require of the plaintiff or his attorney a bond with good security, binding the plaintiff and his indorser to pay all damages and costs, it any, which may be wrongfully occasioned BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. by a capias in this case. The capias is then placed in the hands of the constable, who proceeds to arrest the defendant, and take him before the magistrate issuing the capias. Giving Bail. The defendant may avoid arrest by offer ing as "bail" one or more responsible per sons, who, by an indorsement written on the back of the capias and signed by them, bind themselves to produce the defendant at the place and time appointed for the trial, the defendant at the same time pledging himself to pay the amount of the claim with costs if a judgment shall be rendered against him, or to surrender himself to his creditor. In case he fails to appear at the trial, or to make payment, the persons who signed the bail must pay the claim and costs, and will be compelled by the court to do so. In more complicated cases where the creditor finds his debtor about to leave the State, or where he is a non-resident, it is best to secure the services of a competent attorney-at-law, who will be prepared to take the proper steps for securing the claim, and to advise the creditor in all emergencies. As a creditor renders himself liable for damages for any improper interference with the rights or property of his debtor, it is better to seek legal advice in matters of any importance. Where a debt is due l^y a resident of one State to a resident of another, and it becomes necessary to resort to legal measures to collect it, it will be best to place the ck"~ 4 n the bands of a collection agency. Collection agencies are now established in all large towns. In connection with the offices of some of our Commercial Reports there are facilities for this purpose. All the creditor has to do is to put the needful papers into the hands of the agency, and if it is possible to collect the debt it will be done. Of course, a certain commission is granted the agency in case the debt is col lected, or in case it is not collected, a certain fee must be paid. This simplifies the matter to a great ex tent, for a man living in the West having a debt due him in the East would not always find it profitable to make a long journey for the purpose of obtaining what is due him. It is therefore a matter of convenience foi him to be able to put a claim in the hands of a collection agency, who are responsible to him for the return of what they receive on the account. In general, it may be said that, considering the large amount of credit given, there are comparatively few losses. There is always a certain percentage, yet with the great num ber of credits given in all commercial busi ness, it is remarkable that the percentage of losses is so small. The best guaranty for the payment of debts is not the legal paper, but the honesty and integrity of the individual, for many instances are on record showing that men who had been released by the court from just claims have afterwards of their own free will made all such claims good with in terest. This is the spirit in which all busi ness should be transacted, and is so transacted by every honorable house, CHAPTER XXXVIII. Last Wills and Testaments. 'HE breaking of wills has become a habit A man makes his last testa ment, disposing of his property, tlearly stating just what parties are to re ceive it, dies in the happy assurance that his property will fall into the hands of the per sons to whom he has devised it, and then he is scarcely cold in his grave before his rela tives, near and remote, are having a lawsuit, each contestant try ing to get the lion's share of the estate. The man was crazy, or his mind was feeble, or he was unduly influ enced. The sharks in effect make a new will, but the dead man is not consulted. Then comes the wrangling, the false swearing, the subterfuges of crafty lawyers, the claims of thirty-third cousins who were nevef heard of until the old man died, and never would have been heard of unless he had left a million. And so a man shrewd enough to make a million is proved to have been a fool or a lunatic, and did not know how to give it away. Too much care can not be exercised in making , will. And no man with any amount of pro perty should neglect to devise it, and have the instrument deposited in a safe place. To be sure, the law steps in and settles a man's estate after he has left it, but he should de clare his wishes and intentions in writing, and should do this when in health and pos sessed of the full use of all his faculties. There should be no neglect nor delay in a matter so important A will is the legal declaration of what a person desires to nave done with his property *fter his death. There is nothing more Oirficuic thai ttJ make a proper will ; nothing in which leg*! advice of the most trustworthy character k needed. Every man should regard it as his solemn duty to make a will, whether he have much or little to leave behind him ; but no one should venture to do so unaided, where the property to be disposed of is of importance, or where it is liable to become a subject of dispute among his heirs. Legal Debtor. Any one may make a will who is of legal age and sound mind. A married woman cannot, however, make a will unless the law of the State in which her property is situated vests her with the separate ownership of it. The legal age for making a will devising real estate is twenty-one years. In most of the States a male, aged eighteen years, or a female, aged sixteen years, may bequeath personal property by will. The person making a will, if a male, is called the testator ; if a female, the testatrix. A will is of no effect during the life of the maker, and may be set aside, altered or replaced by a new will, at any time previous to the death of the maker. The last will made annuls all previous wills. It is, therefore, the duty of the testa tor to state distinctly in the first part that this is his last will. If he has made other wills, he should state that by this instrument he revokes all other wills. The will should close with a formal state ment that it is the deliberate act of the tes tator, and that it is properly signed and sealed by him. 439 440 BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. Witnesses. All wills must be witnessed. This is a very important part of making a will, and should be performed in strict accordance with the laws of the State in which it is made. Some of the States require two, and some three credible witnesses. It is a good plan for the testator to have the will wit nessed by three persons, in all cases, whether the law requires it or not. The witnesses to a will should see the testator sign it. He should perform the act in their presence. If the testator cannot write, or is too feeble by reason of old age or sickness to do so, he may make his mark in the presence of the witnesses. A person who cannot write may witness a will by making his mark. The word "bequeath" applies to personal property alone; the word "devise" to real estate alone. Care should be taken to use these words properly. The testator should say in the commencement, " I give, bequeath, and devise my estate and property as follows, that is to say." He should then state his wishes as to his property in their proper order. Where it is not intended that the interest of an heir should be limited to his life, but that he should have power to dispose of his inheritance at his death, it is best to say, "To A. B. and his heirs." Where no provision is made in a will for the children of the testator, the law presumes that such omission was an oversight, and allows such child an equal share with the other children. When a testator designs to exclude a child from a share in his estate, he must state it explicitly in the will. Executors. The executors ought always to be named in the will, though an omission to name them does not invalidate the will. An administrator will hi such case be appointed by the court of probate. A witness to a will should never be a legatee, as such witness cannot inherit the bequest so made. This does not interfere with the validity of the will, however. Where a will is made, and the testator subsequently disposes of any or all the prop erty described in the will, the will is inval idated to the extent of the alienation of the property. Where a man makes a will, and subse quently marries and has children, the law regards the will as revoked, unless the tes tator, after such acts, makes a new will con firming the original one. A person cannot be an executor to a will if at the time of the probate of the will he is a minor, a drunkard, a convict, or of unsound mind. Witnesses are not required to know thfc contents of the will. It is sufficient that the testator declares to them that the document is his will, and to see him sign it. Wills are of two kinds, written and verbal or nuncupative. Codicils. A codicil is an addition to a will designed to modify or add new provisions to a will. It does not revoke the will. Though there can be but one will, there may be any num ber of codicils. A will made by a single woman is revoked by her subsequent marriage. By the terms of her marriage settlement she may, how ever, provide for the right to dispose of her property. Bights of the Wife. A wife cannot be deprived of her dower by any will of her husband. A husband may, however, bequeath to his wife a certain sum in lieu of her dower. She may accept LAST WILLS AND TESTAMENTS. 441 this in lieu of her dower or not, at her pleasure. If the will fails to state that this bequest is in lieu of her dower she is entited to such bequest and to her dower also. In the Dominion of Canada the laws with reference to wills are generally the same as '"n the United States. In the Province of Quebec, however, a will written in the hand writing of the testator and signed by him is valid without witnesses. After the death of the testator his pro perty is liable for his debts. These must be paid before the provisions of the will caw take effect. The laws of the various States give precedence to the various claims upon the estate, in the following order : 1. Funeral expenses, charges of the lasl sickness, and probate charges. 2. Debts due to the United States. 3. Debts due to the State in which the dt> ceased had his home. 4. Any liens attaching to the property b> law. 5. Debts due creditors generally. General Form of Will. NAME AND RESIDENCE TO THE WIFE SON SERVANTS RESIDUE , declare this to b I, Thomas Henry Howard, of the City of Baltimore, State of my last will and testament. 1. I give and bequeath to my wife, Catharine Howard, all the fixtures, prints, books, paint ings, linen, china, household goods, furniture, chattels, and effects, other than money, or secur ities for money, which shall, at my death, be in or about my house, No. 458 Park avenue in the said City of Baltimore. 2. I give and devise to my said wife, her heirs and assigns, the dwelling house and lot of ground, known as Number 458 (four hundred and fifty-eight) in Park avenue, in the said City of Baltimore, together with all the appurtenances thereunto belonging ; to have and to hold the same unto the said Catharine Howard, her heirs and assigns, forever. 3. I give and bequeath unto my said wife, the sum of two thousand dollars, to be paid to he* within one month after my death, without interest. 4. I also give and bequeath unto my said wife, the sum of fifty thousand dollars in the pre ferred stock of the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad Company, now held by me. 5. I give and devise to my son, George Frederick Howard, his heirs and assigns, forever, all that certain brick dwelling and lot of ground, known as Number 529, in St. Paul street, in the said City of Baltimore, together with all the hereditaments and appurtenances thereto belong ing, or in anywise appertaining ; to have and to hold the premises above described to the said George Frederick Howard, his heirs and assigns, forever. 6. I give and bequeath to my said son, George Frederick Howard, the sum of one hundred thousand dollars, in the bonds ot the United States of Ametica, known as the five-twenty bonds, being all the securities of the United States now held by me. 7. I also bequeath the following legacies to the several persons hereafter named : To my nephew, Thomas Henry Howard, the sum of ten thousand dollars ; to my cousin, Mrs. Rebecca Jackson, wife of Henry B. Jackson, of the City of Annapolis, Maryland, the sum of five thousand dollars ; to my old and trusted friend and clerk, Alfred W. Lee, the sum of five thousand dollars. 8. I also bequeath to each of my domestic servants who may be living with me at the tim. of my death, the sum of two hundred dollars. 9. All the rest, residue, and remainder of my real and personal estate, I give, devise, and bequeath in equal shares, to my said wife, Catharine Howard, and to my said son, George Fred erick Howard, their heirs and assigns, forever. 10. I appoint my said son and my said friend, Alfred W. Lee, executors of this my will and desire that they shall not be required to give any security for the performance of their duties. IN WITNESS WHEREOF, I, Thomas Henry Howard, have hereunto set my hand and Sfi&l this twenty-fifth day of May, 189 . THOMAS HENRY HOWARD. [SEAI,.J 442 BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. MAME AND RESIDENCE FUNERAL rOTHE WIFE ELDEST SON TO THE SECOND SON VO THE "HIRD SON JWAME OF DONOR ESTATE AND V Subscribed by the testator in presence of each of us, and at the same time declared by him to us as his last will and testament. Witness our hands, this twenty-fifth day of May, A. D. 189 . GEORGE P. FRANCIS, ROBERT L. PAGE, THOMAS F. LEWIS. Another Form. I, Henry Hubert White, of the County of Hardin, Frankfort, State of Kentucky, being of sound mind and memory, do make and publish this my last will and testament, in manner and form following, that is to say : 1. It is my will that my funeral shall be conducted without pomp, unnecessary parade or ostentation, and that the expenses thereof, together with all my just debts, be fully paid. 2. I give, devise, and bequeath to my beloved wife, Rachael White, in lieu of her dower, if she should so elect, the plantation on which we now reside, situated in the township aforesaid, and containing two hundred and ten acres, or thereabouts, during her natural life : And all the live stock, horses, cattle, sheep, swine, etc., by me now owned and kept thereon : Also, all the household furniture and other items, not particularly named and otherwise disposed of, in -this my will, during her said life ; she, however, first disposing of a sufficiency thereof to pay my just debts, as aforesaid. And that, at the death of my said wife, all the property hereby devised or bequeathed to her, as aforesaid, or so much thereof as may then remain unexpended, I give unto my three sons, Thomas White, Richard Lef White, and Alfred White, and to their heirs and assigns, forever. 3. I give, and devise, to my eldest son, Thoi.;.~o White, the farm on which he now resides, situated in Hardin County, Kentucky, and containing one hundred and fifty acres, or there abouts, and to his heirs and assigns, forever. 4. I give, and devise to my second son, Richard Lee White, the farm now in the occupancy of George P. Woods, situated in Hardin County, Kentucky, and containing one hundred and ten acres, to him, the said Richard Lee White, his heirs and assigns, in fee simple. 5. I give and devise, to my third son, Alfred White, the house and lot, in the town of Eliza- bet~.it ~".-n, in the County and State aforesaid, now in the occupancy of Dr. Alfred Hughes, known and dxignated in the plan of said by No. 47, to him, the said Alfred White, his heirs and assigns, forever. And, last : I hereby constitute and appoint my said wife, Rachael White, and my said son, Thomas White, to be the executrix and executor of this, my last will and testament, revoking and annulling all former wills by me made, and ratifying and confirming this, and no other, to be my last will and testament. IN WITNESS WHEREOF, I ha- . hereunto set my hand this tenth day of October, A. D. 189 . HENRY HUBERT WHITE. Signed, published, and declared oy the above-named Henry Hubert White, as his last will and testament, in presence of us, who, at his request, have signed as witnesses of the same. RICHARD JONES, THOMAS W. TUCKER, PETER W. ZOLLICOFFER. Form of Will with Entire Property Left to Wife on Certain Conditions. Realizing the uncertainty of life, I, Charles W. Freeman, of Kenosha, in the County of Kenosha, and State of Wisconsin, make this last will and testament, while in the possession of sound mind and memory, this I4th day of August, 189 . I give, devise and bequeath unto my executors, hereafter named, all my estate and effects that I may die possessed of or entitled to, upon trust, to be, as soon as conveniently can be, after niy decease, sold and converted into money, and the proceeds invested into one or other of the public funds, and the dividends arising therefrom to be paid, yearly each and every year, unto my wife, Harriet D. Freeman, during the term of her natural life, should she so long continue my widow; the first yearly payment thereof to commence and be payable at the expiration of the first year after my decease, if my wife remains a widow. LAST WILLS AND TESTAMENTS. 443 ADMINISTRATOR; DISPOSITION Of PROPERTY >a able to act in the matter, then I desire that my wife and eldest son shall each appoint an arbitratoi or arbitrators, with the power of choosing a third arbitrator; and what a majority of them shal) determine therein, shall be binding upon all and every person or persons therein concerned. How to Organize Societies ; Parliamentary Rules and By- Laws ; Forms of Resolutions and Petitions ; How to Conduct Public Celebrations. IT is necessary for all permanent associations formed for mutual benefit to have a Constitution by which they shall be governed. Where it is intended to organize a society for the intellectual improvement or social enjoyment of its members, a number of persons meet together and select a name for the organization. The next step is to appoint a committee, \\ hose duty it shall be to prepare a Constitution and code of By- Laws for the society. These must be re ported to the society at its next meeting, and must be adopted by the votes of a majority of that body before they can take effect. The Constitution consists of the rules which form the foundation upon which the organization is to rest. It should be brief and explicit. It should be considered ano adopted section by section; should be re corded in a book for that purpose, and should be signed by all the members of the society. Amendments to the Constitution should be adopted in the same way, and should be signed by each member of the society. In addition to the Constitution it is usual to adopt a series of minor rules, which should be explanatory of the principles of the Con*. stitution. These are termed By-Laivs, and should be recorded in the same book with the Constitution, and immediately after it. New by-laws may be added from time tc time, as the necessity for them may arise. It is best to have as few as possible. They should be brief, and so clear that their mean ing may be easily comprehended, and should govern the action of the body. NAME AND OBJECT OFFICERS OF THE. SOCIETY CONSTITUTION OF A VILLAGE LYCEUM. PREAMBLE. As growth and development of mind, together with readiness and fluency of speech, are the result of investigation and free discussion of religious, educational, political, and other topics, the undersigned agree to form an association, and for its government, do hereby adopt the following CONSTITUTION. ARTICLE I. The name and title of this organization shall be "The Athenian Literary Association," and its object shall be the free discussion of any subject coming before the meeting for the purpose of diffusing knowledge among its members. ARTICLE II. The officers of the Association shall consist of a President, two Vice-Presidents, a Corresponding Secretary, a Recording Secretary, a Treasurer and a Librarian, who shall be elected annually by ballot, on the first Monday in January of each year, said officers to hold their position until their successors are elected. ARTICLE III. It shall be the duty of the President to preside at all public meetings of the Society. The first Vice-President shall preside in the absence of the President, and in case ol the absence of both President and Vice-President, it shall be the duty of the second Vice-Presi< dent to preside. 445 446 BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. DUTIES OF THE OFFICERS APPOINTMENT OF COMMITTEES CONDITION OF MEMBERSHIP TIMES OF MEETING COLLECTION OF DUES PARLIAMENTARY AUTHORITY PENALTY FOR VIOLATING RULES ALTERATIONS AND AMEND MENTS The duty of the Secretary shall be to conduct the correspondence, keep the records of the Society, and read at each meeting a report of the work done at the preceding meeting. The Treasurer shall keep the funds of the Society, making an annual report of all moneys received, disbursed, and amount on hand. It shall be the duty of the Librarian to keep, in a careful manner, all books, records and manuscripts in the possession of the Society. ARTICLE IV. There shall be appointed by the President, at the first meeting after his election, the following standing committees, to consist of three members each, namely : On lectures, library, finance, and printing, whose duties shall be designated by the President. The question for debate at the succeeding meeting shall be determined by a majority vote of the members present. ARTICLE V. Any lady or gentleman may become a member of this Society by the consent of the majority of the members present, the signing of the constitution, and the payment of two dollars as membership fee. It shall be the privilege of the Society to elect any person whose presence may be advantageous to the Society, an honorary member, who shall not be required to pay membership fees or dues. ARTICLE VI. This association shall meet weekly, and at such other times as a majority, con sisting of at least five members of the association, shall determine. The President shall be authorized to call special meetings upon the written request of any five members of the Society, which number shall be sufficient to constitute a quorum for the transaction of business. ARTICLE VII. It shall be the duty of the finance committee to determine the amount of dues necessary to be collected from each member, and to inform the Treasurer of the amount, who shall promptly proceed to collect the same at such time as the committee may designate. ARTICLE VIII. The parliamentary rules and general form of conducting public meetings, as shown in GOLDEN MANUAL, shall be the standard authority in governing the deliberations of this association ARTICLE IX. .ny member neglecting to pay dues, or who shall be guilty of improper con duct, calculated to bring this association into disrepute, shall be expelled from the membership of the Society by a two-thirds vote of the members present at any regular meeting. No mem ber shall be expelled, however, until he shall have had notice of such intention on the part of the association, and has been given an opportunity of being heard in his own defense. ARTICLE X. By giving written notic ^ of change at any regular meeting, this constitution may be altered or amended at the next stated meeting by a vote of two-thirds of the members present. By-Laws- RULE i. No question shall be stated unless moved by two members, nor be open for consideration until stated by the chair. When a question is before the society, no motion shall be received, except to lay on the table, the previous question, to postpone, to refer, or to amend ; and they shall have precedence in the order in which they are arranged. RULE 2. When a member intends to speak on a question, he shall rise in his place, and respectfully address his remarks to the President, confine himself to the question , and avoid personality. Should more than one member rise to speak at the same time, the President shall determine who is entitled to the floor. RULE 3. Every member shall have the privilege of speaking three times on any question under considera tion, but not oftener, unless by the consent of the society (determined by vote) ; and no member shall speak more than once, until every member wishing to speak shall have spoken. Ru*E 4. The President, while presiding, shall state every question coming before the society ; and im mediately before putting it to vote shall ask : ' ' Are you ready for the question ? " Should no member rise to speak, he shall rise to put the question ; and after he has risen no member shall speak upon it, unless by permission of the society. RULE 5- The affirmative and negative of the ques tion having been both put and answered, the President declares the number of legal votes cast, and whether the affirmative or negative have it. RULE 6. All questions, unless otherwise fixed by law, shall be determined by a majority of votes. RULE 7- After any question, except one of indefi nite postponement, has been decided, any member may move a reconsideration thereof, if done in two weeks after the decision. A motion for reconsideration the second time, of the same question, shall not be in order at any time. RULE 8. Any two members may call for a division of a question, when the same will admit of it. RULE 9. The President, or any member, may call FORM OF CONSTITUTION FOR LYCEUMS. 447 a member to order while speaking, when the debate must be suspended, and the member takes his seat until the question of order is decided. RULE 10. The President shall preserve order and decorum ; may speak to points of order in preference to other members ; and shall decide all questions of order, subject to an appeal to the society by any mem ber, on which appeal no person shall speak but the President and the member called to order. RULE n. No motion or proposition on a subject different from that under consideration shall be ad mitted under color of an amendment. RULE 12. No addition, alteration or amendment to the constitution, by laws, etc., shall be ac.ed upon, ex cept in accordance with the constitution. RULE 13. No nomination shall be consider:*! as made until seconded. RULE 14. The President shall sign all proceedings of the meetings. RULE 15- No member shall vote by proxy. RULE 16. No motion shall be withdrawn by the mover unless the second withdraw his second. RULE; 17. No extract from any book shall be read consuming more than five minutes. RULE; 18. No motion for adjournment shall be in order until after nine o'clock. RULE; 19. Every motion shall be reduced to writing, should the officers of the society desire it. RULE 20. An amendment to an amendment is in order, but not to amend an amendment to an amend ment of a main question. RULE 21. The previous question shaL oe put in this form, if seconded by a majority of the members present : " Shall the main question be put ? " If de cided in the affirmative, the main question is to be put immediately, and all further debate or amendment must be suspended. RULE 22. Members not voting shall be considered as voting in the affirmative, unless excused by the society. RULE 23. Any member offering a pxOtest against any of the proceedings of this society may have the same, if in respectful language, entered in full upon the minutes. RULE 24. No subject laid on the table shall be xaken up again on the same evening. RULE 25. No member shall speak on any motion (except the mover thereof) more than twice, nor more than once until all wishing to speak shall have spoken ; neither shall he make or debate an amendment, having spoken twice on the original motion, without per mission of the society. RULE 26. No motion shall be debatable until seconded. RULE 27. Points of onler are debatable tl:c society. RULE; 28. Appeals and motions to reconsider 01 adjourn are not debatable. RULE 29. When a very important motion or amend ment shall be made and seconded, the mover thereof may be called upon to reduce the same to writing, and hand it in at the table, from which it shall be read thrice, open to the society for debate. RULE 30. The mover of a motion shall be at liberty to accept any amendment thereto ; but if an amend ment be offered and not accepted, yet duly seconded, the society shall pass upon it before voting upon the original motion. RULE 31. Every officer, on leaving his office, shall give to his successor all papers, documents, books and money belonging to the society. RULE 32. No smoking, and no refreshments, except water, shall be allowed in the society's hall. RULE 33. When a motion to adjourn is carried, no member shall leave his seat until the President has left his chair. RULE 34. No alteration can be made in these rules of order without a four-fifth vote of the society , and two weeks' notice ; neither can they be suspended but by a like vote, and then for the evening only. Subjects for Discussion. 1 . Which would be of greater benefit to the country, a protective tariff, or a tariff for revenue only ? 2. Ought laws to be enacted for restricting foreign im migration ? 3. Does more evil than benefit result from laws per mitting divorce ? 4. Prohibition, or High License which ? 5. Which was the greater Orator, Demosthenes or Cicero ? NOTE;. The discussion of this question must include references to style, aim and effect; artistical, mental and moral power. 6. Which is the more despicable character, the Hypo crite or the Liar ? 7. Has the Fear of Punishment, or the Hope of Re ward, the greater influence on Human Conduct ? NOTE;. This question involves considerations of great importance. It has do do with Education, Gov ernment, and Religion. The fear of punishment is the principle usually supposed to influence us ; and upon this principle, for the most part, education, laws, and religious instruction are founded : but many of the wisest men are beginning to doubt this system. 8. Is Corporal Punishment justifiable ? 9. Was Brutus justified in killing Csesar ? NOTE;. This question must be tried by the morals of the time when the act took place and not by the present standard of morality. It is quite necessary U\ .':.-.l.e this distinction. 448 BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. 10. Should Emulation be encouraged in Education ? NOTE. The system of prize-giving in education has supporters and opponents, both so determined, that a discussion upon the subject cannot fail to be interest ing and instructive. Philosophy and experience should both be referred to in the debate. 11. Which was the greater Poet, Milton or Homer? NOTE. This debate will turn upon the facts that Homer is the more real, life-like, and human poet, whilst Milton is the more imaginative, sublime and spiritual ; the decision must depend upon which are the nobler qualities. 12. Is Military Rnown a fit Object of Ambition ? 13. Is Ambition a Vice or a Virtue ? 14. Has Nova^roading a Moral Tendency ? NOTE. It may seem that this question barely ad mits of discussion, for moral novels must, of course, have a moral tendency ; but at least the debate may serve to lead the debaters to a proper selection of novels. 15. Is the Character of Queen Elizabeth deserving of our Admiration ? 1 6. Is England rising or falling as a Nation? NOTE. Compare the Elements of Modern with the Elements of Ancient Prosperity. 17. Has Nature or Education the greater Influence in the Formation of Character ? 18. Which is tbe more valuable Metal, Gold or Iron ? NOTE. This is a question between Show and Value between ornament and utility. 19. Is War in any case justifiable ? 20. Has the Discovery of America been beneficial to the World? 21. Can any Circumstances justify a Departure from Truth ? 22. Are Sports Justifiable? 33. Does not Virtue necessarily produce Happiuess, and does not Vice necessarily produce Misery in this Life? 24. From which does the Mind gain the more Knowl edge, Reading or Observation ? 25. Have our Gold Mines, or our Coal Mines, been more beneficial to the country ? *6. Which was the greater General, Hannibal or Alex ander ? 27. Which was the greater Poet, Dryden or Pope ? 28. Which has done the greater Service to Truth, Philosophy or Poetry ? NOTE. Philosophy is here meant to signify intel lectual wisdom ; and poetry, that inspiration respect ing truth which great poets exhibit, and which seems to be quite independent of acquired knowledge. Philo sophy is cultivated reason, poetry is A moral instinct toward the True and Beautiful. To decide the qnestior. we must see what we owe on the one hand to the dis coveries of our philosophers, to Socrates, Plato, Epi curus, Bacon, Newton, Locke ; and on the other, for what amount and sort of truth we are indebted to the intuition and inspiration of our poets, as Homer, Mil ton, Dante, Shakespeare. 29. Is an Advocate justified in defending a man whoir ,> he knows to be Guilty of the Crime with which hii is charged ? 30. Is it likely that England will sink into the Decay which befell the Nations of Antiquity ? 31. Are Lord Byron's Writings Moral in their Tend ency? NOTE. The works of Byron must here be looked atlas a whole, and not be judged by isolated passages ; they must be tried, too, by eternal, and not by fashion able, morality. 32. Do the Mechanicians of Modern equal those of An cient Times ? 33. Which is the greater Civilizer, the Statesman or the Poet ? 34. Which was the greater Writer, Charles Dickens 01 Lord Ly tton ? 35. Is the Principle of Utility a Safe Moral Guide ? 36. Was the Deposition of Louis XVI. justifiable ? 37. Is the use of Oaths for Civil Purposes Expedient ? 38. Is a Classical Education essential to an American Gentleman ? 39. Are Colonies advantageous to the Mother Country ? 40. Which does the most to produce Crime Poverty, Wealth, or Ignorance ? 41. Is the Unanimity required from Juries conducive to the Attainment of the Ends of Justice ? 42. Is it not the duty of a Government to Establish a System of National Education ? 43. Are the Intellectual Faculties of the Dark Races of Mankind essentially inferior to those of the White ? 44. Is Solitary Confinement an effective Punishment ? NOTE. This discussion should include the value of Solitary Confinement as a punishment, and its reform atory effects on the criminal. 45. Should not all Punishment be Reformatory? 46. Is a Limited Monarchy, like that of England, th best form of Government ? 47. Is not Private Virtue essentially requisite to Great ness of Public Character ? 48. Is Eloquence a Gift of Nature, or may it be ac quired ? 49. Is Genius an innate Capacity ? 50. Is a rude or a refined Age the more tavora ole tc thr Production of Works of Imagination ? FORM OF CONS'liTUTION FOR LYCEUMS. 31, Is the Shakspearian the Augustan Age of English Literature ? $2. Is there any Standard of Taste? 53. Ought Pope to rank in the First Class of Poets ? 54. Has the Introduction of Machinery been generally beneficial to Mankind ? 55. Which produce the greater Happiness, the Pleasures of Hope or of Memory ? 56. Is the Existence of Parties in a State favorable to the Public Welfare ? 57. Is there any Ground for believing in the ultimate Perfection and universal Happiness of the Human Race? 58. Is Co-operation more adapted to promote the Virtue and Happiness of Mankind than Competition ? 59. Was the Banishment of Napoleon to St. Helena a justifiable Proceeding ? So. Ought Persons to be excluded from the Civil Offices on account of their Religious Opinions ? 0i. Which exercises the greater Influence on the Civil ization and Happiness of the Human Race, the Male or the Female Mind ? Sa. Which did the most to produce the French Revolu- lution, the Tyranny of the Government, the ex cesses of the Higher Orders, or the Writings of Vol taire, Montesquieu and Rousseau ? *3. Which was the greater Poet, Byron or Burns ? 64. Is there reasonable Ground for believing that the Character of Richard the Third was not eo atrocious as is generally supposed ? 65. Does Happiness or Misery preponderate in Life ? 66. Should the Press be totally Free ? 67. Do modern Geological Discoveries agree with Holy Writ? 68. Did Circumstances justify the first French Revolu tion ? 69. Could not Arbitration be made a Substitute for War? 70. Which Character is the more to be admired, that of Loyola or Luther ? 71. Are there good Grounds for applying the Term " dark" to the Middle Ages ? 72. Which was the greater Poet, Chatterton or Cowper ? 73. Are Public or Private Schools to be preferred ? 74. Is the System of Education pursued at our Univer sities in accordance with the Requirements of the Age? 29 c 449 75. Was the Decline of Slavery in Europe t.ttributab** to moral or economical Influences ? 76. Is anger a Vice or a Virtue ? 77. Which was the greatest Hero, Alexander, Caesar, of Bonaparte ? 78. Which was the worse Monarch, Richard the Third or Charles the Second ? 79. Which was the greater man, Franklin or Wash ington ? 80. Is it true that America is the greatest of Natious ? 8 r . Should not greater Freedom of expression be encour aged in debate ? 82. Which was the greater Poet, Chaucer or Spenser? 83. Is the present a Poetical Age ? 84. Was Louis XIV, a great man? 85. Is it the Duty of a Government to make ampla Provision for the Authors of the Nation? 86. Which is the greater Poet, Mrs. Howitt or Mrs. Hemans ? 87. Should not all National Works of Art be entirely free to the Public ? 88. Are the Rudiments of individual Character discern ible in Childhood ? 89. Is Satire highly useful as a Moral Agent ? 90. Has the Faculty of Humor been of essential Service to Civilization ? 91. Is it to Emigration that England must mainly look for the Relief of her population ? 92. Does National Character descend from age to age ? 93. Do the Associations entitled "Art Unions " tend to promote the spread of the Fine Arts ? 94. Is it possible that the World will ever again pos sess a Writer as great as Shakspeare ? 95. Is the cheap Literature of the Age on the whole beneficial to general Morality ? 96. Should Practice in Athletic Games form a Part of every System of Education ? 97. Is the Game of Chess a good Intellectual and Moral Exercise ? 98. Have Mechanics' Institutions answered the Expec tations of their founders ? 99. Which is to be preferred, a Town or a Country Life ? too. Which was the greater Poet, Wordsworth or Byron ? 101. Which is the more baneful, Skepticism or Super stition ? 102. Is the average Duration of Human Life increasing or diminishing ? CHAPTER XL. Parliamentary Rules and Usages. "HE following are the complete rules, in a plain and compact form, for conducting a public meeting: Quorum. A quorum is a sufficient number of the members of an association to legally transact business. Unless a quorum is present no business is in order, except to adjourn. A majority of the members constitutes a natural quorum, but the by-laws of the association may prescribe a smaller number. The Chairman. I . is the duty of the chairman to open the meeting at the time fixed upon, by taking the chair, calling the house to order, to announce the business before the house in the order in which it is to be acted upon ; to receive and submit all motions; to put to vote all questions which are regularly moved, or which necessarily arise in the course of proceedings, and to announce the result ; to restrain every one, when engaged in debate, within the rules of order; to enforce the observance of order and decorum ; to appoint committees; to authenticate by his signa ture, when necessary, all the acts and pro ceedings of the house, and generally to declare its will. Hf He may speak to points of order in pre ference to others ; shall decide all questions of order, and if the house is evenly divided he may give the casting vote, in doing which he may, if he pleases, give his reasons. The Clerk. It is the duty of the clerk or secretary to keep correct minutes of the proceedings of 450 the house ; to read all papers when ordered, and for this purpose he should always rise; to call the roll, and state the answer when a vote is taken by yeas and nays; to have the custody of all papers and documents, and to authenticate the acts and proceedings of the house by his signature. Committees. Standing comn'iittees sit permanently; special committees perform only some par ticular duty, when they are discharged. The person first-named is usually regarded as chairman, but this is only a matter of courtesy; every committee has a right to select its own chairman. Custom, however, has practically taken away this right, and it is considered bad form to elect any other person than the first-named as chairman, The mover of a motion to commit, should be placed on the committee and first-named, except where the matter committed con cerns him personally. In the appointment of the committee no person directly opposed to the measure committed should be named, and when any person who is thus opposed to same, hears himself named of its com mittee he should ask to be excused. The chair appoints all committees. Com- mittees do not adjourn, but, when they have concluded their deliberations, should rise and report. The report should be presented by the chairman. When the report is received the committee is dissolved and cannot act further without new power. Any committee required or entitled to report upon a subject referred to them may make a majority and minority report, while PARLIAMENTARY RULES AND USAGES. any member of such committee dissenting in whole or in part, from either the conclu sion or the reasoning of both the majority and minority, may also present a statement of his reasons for such dissent, which should be received in connection with the reports. The committee of the whole is an expe dient to simplify the business of legislative bodies. No record is made of its proceed ings. The presiding officer puts the ques tion, and, if same is carried, appoints some person as chairman and then vacates the chair. Motions. Propositions made to a deliberative assem bly are called motions; when the proposition is put to vote it is called the question. A motion cannot be entertained or the question put, until the same has been seconded. After this it becomes the property of the house, and cannot be withdrawn except by leave. It must be in writing whenever the house or presiding officer require it, and must be read when any person demands it for information. An exception to the rule requiring a second to a motion is made in cases when the proposition is to proceed with or to execute an order of the house; as where it is moved to proceed with an order of the day, or where a call is made for the enforce ment of some order relating to the observ ance of decorum. No motion can be made while a speaker has the floor, nor while another motion is pending, except it be a question of privilege. Amendments. A motion may be amended by inserting or adding words, or by. striking out words, or by striking out and inserting words. An amendment takes precedence of the original question and must be first decided. So, too, an amendment to an amendment must be decided before the amendment A motion may be made to amend, after which a mo tion will be to amend the amendment, but this is the full limit of the rule by which one motion may be put upon another. A mo tion to amend the second amendment is not in order. Questions of privilege cannot be amended, except that a motion to postpone can be amended as to time. The Question. The question is first to be put on the affirmative and then on the negative side ; the vote in most cases being by oral response. If there are doubts as to the voice of the majority, any one may call for a division. In all cases where the house is equally divided the question is lost, unless the pre siding officer affirms it by a casting vote. When a division is had, those in the affirm ative on the question should first rise and be counted, or, if there still be a doubt, or a count be called for, the chairman should ap point two tellers, one from each side, to make the count and report the same to the chair man, who should then declare the same to the house. In small matters of routine business or trif ling importance, such as receiving reports, withdrawing motions, etc., the presiding officer may suppose the consent of the house where no objection is expressed, and need not give them the trouble of putting the question formally. A question should always be stated by the chair before it is put, after which it is open to debate. Questions may be stated by the chair while sitting, but he should always rise to put a question, and should use substan tially this form : "As many as are of the opinion that (as the question may be) will say aye ;" and after the affirmative voice is expressed, "As many as are of a contrary 452 BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. opinion, will say no." He declares the vote. After a question has been put it is not debatable, but after the affirmative is put any person who has not spoken before to the question may rise and speak before the negative is put. Division of Question. Any person may call for the division of a question if it comprehend propositions, in substance so distinct, that, one being taken away, a substantive proposition shall remain for decision. When a question is divided, after the qaes- tion on the first part, the second is open to debate and amendment. Privileged Questions. When a question is under debate, no motion shall be received, except to adjourn ; to lay on the table ; for the previous ques tion; to postpone to a certain day; to commit ; to amend ; to postpone indefinitely. These motions have precedence in the order in which they stand arranged, and are called privileged questions. A motion to adjourn is always in order and takes precedence of all other motions, and an order of the day takes the place of all questions except adjournment. When a matter has been laid on the table it may be taken up at any time afterward and considered, but not at the same meeting or session at which it was tabled. Fre quently this motion is made to finally dis pose of the matter, and it always has this effect when no motion is afterward made to take it up. The proper motion for proceed ing with a matter that has been ordered to lie on the table, is, that the house do now proceed to consider that matter, although it would be proper to move that the matter be taken up for consideration. There are several questions which, being incidental to every one, will take the place of every one, privileged or not; as, a que.< tion of order arising out of any other ques tion must be decided before that question. A motion for indefinite postponement is generally resorted to in order to suppress a question or prevent its coming to vote. Previous Question. When any question is before the house any member may move that the question (called the main question) be now put, or, as it is usually termed, may move the previous question. If it pass in the affirmative, then the main question is to be put immediately, ana no further debate is permitted. The previous question being moved and seconded, the question from the chair should be, "Shall the main question be now put?" If the nays prevail the main question remains as the question before the house, in the same stage of proceedings as before the previous question was moved. Equivalent Questions. Where questions are perfectly equivalent, so that the negative of the one amounts to the affirmative of the other, and leaves no other alternative, the decision of the one necessarily concludes the other. Thus tV negative of striking out amounts to the affirmative of agreeing; and, therefore, tf put a question on agreeing after that or striking out, would be to put the same question in effect twice over. Questions of Order. It is the duty of the chairman to decide all questions of order whenever raised. Upon such questions no debate or discussion is in order, but if the decision is not satisfactory any one may object to it and appeal to the house. On appeal being taken, the question should be : " Shall the decision of the chair stand as the judgment of the house ?" Where- PARLIAMENTARY RULES AND USAGES. 453 upon tne question may be debated and dis cussed the same as any other question. Commitment. Any measure may be referred to a com mittee on motion. This motion stands in th< "lame degree with the previous question and postponement, and, if first made, takes precedence of them. A motion to commit may be amended by the substitution of one kind of committee for another, or by en larging or diminishing the number of the members of the committee, as originally pro posed, or by instructions to the committee. After a measure has been committed and reported, it should not, in an ordinary course, be recommitted, but in cases of importance, and for special reasons, it is sometimes re committed, and usually to the same com mittee. Reconsideration. When a motion or question shall have been determined, either in the affirmative or negative, it is always in order for any one who voted with the majority, or in case the vote was equally divided, for one who voted in the negative, to move for a reconsideration thereof. Such motion must be made at the same meeting at which the former vote was taken. A motion to reconsider, being put and lost, cannot be renewed. Undebatable Motions. A motion to adjourn ; to lay on the table, and a call for the previous question, must be decided without debate. And all incidental questions of order, arising after a motion is made for either of the foregoing questions, must be decided, whether on appeal or other wise, without debate. Order in Debate. When a person means to speak, ne is to stand up in his place, uncovered, and address himself to the chair, who calls him by name, that all may take notice who it is that speaks. A person who is indisposed may be indulged to speak sitting. When a person rises to speak, no question is to be put, but he is to be heard undisturbed, unless overruled. If two or more rise to speak nearly together, the chair determines who was first up and calls him by name, whereupon he proceeds, unless he voluntarily sits down and yields the flooi to the other. No one may speak more than twice to the same question without the consent of the house, except merely to explain himself in some material part of his speech, or to the manner of the words in question, keeping himself to that only and not going into the merits of it. If the chairman rises to speak, the person standing must sit down, that the chair may be first heard. No one is to speak impertinently, or beside the question, or to use indecent language against the proceedings of the house. Nor should a person in speaking, mention another then present, by his name, but should de scribe him by his seat, or as " the gentleman who spoke last," or, "on the other side of the question," etc. Any one when called to order by another or by the chair, must sit down, and not pro ceed without leave until the question of order shall have been decided by the chair. While the presiding officer is addressing the house or putting a question, no one should cross the floor or leave the room ; nor while another is speaking, walk between him and the chair. Adjournment. A motion to adjourn is not susceptible of amendment. If it is desirable to adjourn to any particular place or time, this may be accomplished by a previous resolution to that effect. CHAPTER XU. Forms for Resolutions and Petitions. WRITTEN resolution is a formal and deliberate mode of expressing the opinions and sentiments of a society, dub, or public assemblage. : Resolutions should be written tersely and with great clearness. No unnecessary words should be used; nor should there be any ambitious attempts at fine writing. The writer of the resolutions should state exactly what he means ; nothing more nor less. It is customary to preface a series of reso lutions by a preamble. This may be omitted at the discretion of the writer. Where a pre amble is used, it should set forth the cause of the resolutions which are to follow. It should always begin with the word "Where as." The resolutions follow immediately after the preamble, each one beginning with the word " Resolved." We give a few resolutions as specimens for the guidance of the reader. RESOLUTIONS OF CONDOLENCE ON THE DEATH OF A FREE MASON At a regular communication of St. John's Lodge, No. 210, A. F. and A. M., held March 24th, 189 , the following preamble and resolutions were unanimously adopted : WHEREAS, It has pleased the Supreme Architect of the Universe to remove from our midst our late brother, Thomas W. Johnston ; and, WHEREAS, The intimate relations long held by our deceased brother with the members of this Lodge render it proper that we should place on record our appreciation of his services as Mason, and his merits as a man : therefore be it Resolved, By St. John Lodge, No. 210, on the registry of the Grand Lodge of Maryland, at Ancient, Free and Accepted Masons, that, while we bow with humble submission to the will of The Most High, we do not the less mourn for our brother who has been called from his labor to rest. Resolved, That in the death of Thomas W. Johnston this Lodge loses a brother who was al ways active and zealous in his work as a Mason ; ever ready to succor the needy and distressed of the fraternity ; prompt to advance the interests of the Order ; devoted to its welfare and pros perity ; one who was wise in counsel and fearless in action ; an honest and upright man, whose virtues endeared him not only to his brethren of the Order, but to all of his fellow-citizens. Resolved, That this Lodge tenders its heartfelt sympathy to the family and relati, cs of our deceased brother in this their sad affliction. Resolved^ That the members of this Lodge will attend the body of our deceased brother to the grave in full regalia, to pay the last honors to his remains. Resolved, That these resolutions be entered upon the Minutes of this Lodge, and that a copy of them be sent to the family of our deceased brother. 454 Resolved, That the continuance of the slaughter-house of Messrs. Green and White, in the midst of a densely populated neighborhood, is an intolerable nuisance, which is incompatible with the health and comfort of those who reside in its vicinity. Resolved, That a committee of three be appointed by the chair, whose duty it shall be to ap prise the proper authorities of the existence and nature of the nuisance ; and in case such action shall not produce its abatement, then to employ counsel, and take such other legal steps, as thfc case may require. FORMS FOR RESOLUTIONS AND PETITIONS. RESOLUTIONS ADOPTED BY A TEMPERANCE MEETING 455 WHEREAS, The evil of intemperance is steadily increasing among us, and many who might otherwise become good and useful citizens are falling victims to this terrible curse ; and WHEREAS, One great cause of this increase of drunkenness is, in our opinion, the open dis regard of the laws respecting the sale of intoxicating beverages on the part of the keepers of the bar-rooms and saloons of this place, who continue the sale of such liquors after the hour of mid night and on Sundays, although forbidden by law to do so ; therefore be it Resolved, That a committee of five be appointed by this meeting to investigate the extent of this violation of the law, and to lay the result of their labor before the Common Council of this ty at its next meeting. Resolved, That we call upon the mayor, aldermen, and the police force of this city, to en force the law relating to the sale of liquors ; and we hereby remind them that the people of this city will hold them responsible for allowing the ordinances regulating the "ale of liquors to be violated by the keepers of saloons. Resolved, That the thanks of the passengers are hereby tendered to the captain and officers THANKS TO THE o f ^e ship (here insert name}, for the cool, dexterous, and efficient manner in which they per- SHIp C F E o R R S TH F E*R f QTm ed the duties appertaining to each ; to the crew for their prompt obedience to orders, and to CONDUCT DURING all concerned for their earnest endeavors to promote the safety of the passengers under their AN EMERGENCY charge, during the perilous storm, from which, owing to the goodness of Providence, we have been safely delivered. Resolved, That the foregoing resolutions, signed by the passengers, be transmitted to the owners of the ship, anri a copy be furnished to the public journals, with the request for their publication, Resolved, That the thanks of this convention are hereby given to the president, for the able, THANKS TO THE OFFICERS OF A dignified, and impartial manner in which he has presided over its deliberations, and to the other CONVENTION officers for the satisfactory manner in which they have fulfilled the duties assigned to them. \Such a resolution as the above must be offered at the close of the convention. The member offering it must put the question, and announce the resulf the resolution being personal to the presiding officer I\ RESOLUTIONSON WHEREAS, The Reverend Boanerges Drunnn, D.D., has been, in the providence of God, THE DEPARTURE ca ii e( i to labor in another part of Christ's vineyard, aud has in consequence thereof tendered hi; OF A CLERGYMAN , / . resignation of the rectorship of this parish ; and, WHEREAS, We recognize a Divine influence in the circumstances which have induced ouf beloved pastor to sever the ties which have connected him with this church and its people, therefore, be it Resolved, That the resignation of the Rectorship of St. Andrew's Parish, in the city of Rick- mond, by the Rev. Boanerges Drumm, D.D., be, and hereby is, accepted, to take effect on the first day of May next. Resolved, That the Rev. Doctor Boanerges Drumm has, by courtesy and kindness, by purity of life and doctrine, and by the faithful discharge of the duties pertaining to his holy office, secured the love and confidence of his people, which will follow and be with him in his new field of labor. Resolved, That, while Rev. Dr. Boanerges Drumm's connection with this parish will close, agreeably to his wishes, on the first day of May next, his salary will continue until the last day f June next. WHEREAS, From the situation of this town, the general road law of the State is partly in- ESOLUrONS OF applicable to us, and highly inefficient, and the circumstances of the case require a specific law, INSTRUCTION TO therefore, MEMBERS OF THE Be it resolved, by the people of (he town of Hempstead, in town meeting assembled, That the Senators and Representatives of this district in the Legislature, be, and hereby are, instructed to procure the passage of a law exempting this town from the action of the general road law, and placing (the working and repair of the roads entirely un,der the control of the local LEGISLATURE 456 BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. PETITIONS. A Petition is a memorial or request ad dressed by the signers of the paper to some one in authority over them, praying that the request set forth in the paper may be granted. A petition may be either in favor of a measure or against it In the latter case it is termed a Remonstrance. In this country the persons to whom petitions are usually ad dressed are the President of the United States, the Congress of the United States, Governors of States, the Legislatures of the several States, and the Mayors of cities. Petitions are sometimes addressed to the various courts on other than purely legal matters. A petition should always commence with vhe name and title of the person to whom it is addressed. If to the President, or to the Governor of any of the States of the Union, with the sole exception oi the State of Massachusetts, the title, "Your Excel lency," or "His Excellency," should not be used. The Governor of Massachusetts only is entitled to be addressed as "Your," or "His Excellency." When to Congress, the petition should begin, "To the Congress ol the United States." When to a Legislature, "To the Legislature," or "To the General Assembly," as may be the custom in the State. When a petition is addressed to a court, it is usual to accompany it with an affidavit setting forth that the facts stated in the peti tion are known to the signers to be true. Such affidavit, of course, must be made by the petitioners. We give below several forms of petitions for the benefit of persons requiring them : To JOHN LEE C ARRO^I,, ESQ. , Governor of the State of Maryland : The Petition of the undersigned citizens of Maryland respectfully represents : TO THE That Qn ^ twenty-fifth day of March, 189 , Thomas Brown, of the city of Baltimore, was ASKING FOR THE convicted before the Criminal Court in said city of the crime of manslaughter, and was sentenced PARDON OF A therefor to the State prison at Baltimore, where he now remains, for the term of ten years ; that. CONVICT the evidence upon which he was convicted, as will be seen by the summary appended, was not altogether conclusive ; that previous to that time the said Brown had maintained the reputation of being a peaceable and upright man, and a good citizen ; and that his conduct since his com mitment to prison, according to the letter of the Warden, which is herewith submitted, has been most exemplary. The said Brown has a family who need his support, and under the impression that the well- being of society will not be injured by his enlargement, and that the ends of justice, under the circumstances of the case, have been sufficiently answered, they respectfully implore the Execu tive clemency in his behalf. BALTIMORE, May I, 189 . {Here follow the signatures,} PETITION TO THE LEGISLATURE OP A STATE To the Honorable the Senate and House of Representatives of the Commonwealth of Virginia, in General Assembly convened : Your petitioners, residents and tax-payers of the county of Caroline, respectfully represent to your honorable body that the farmers of this State are at present subjected to a very heavy tax upon their resources, by being compelled to build thousands of miles offence, not for their own use, but for the purpose of preventing the encroachment of others. Millions of dollars are spent by us annually for this needless fencing. The man who wishes to keep stock should fence in the necessary pasturage for the same ; but it is a great hardship to compel those who do not own any considerable quantity of stock to keep up miles of fencing, which has to be replaced at frequent intervals, so fast does it go to ruin. The outlay forced upon us for this purpose keeps many of us poor, who might otherwise acquire the means of living in comfort. We therefore respectfully ask of your honorable body that you will at the earliest practicable FORMS FOR RESOLUTIONS AND PETITIONS. 457 REMONSTRANCE 40.AINST THE. iASSAGt OF A LAW POR OPENING A vSTREET ASKING FOR M POLICEMAN EXTERMINATION OF THE CANADA TNWTLfe period etiact a law to prevent stock of all kinds from running at large ; and so grant to petitioners a relief which cannot fail to materially advance the general prosperity of the State And your petitioners, as in duty bound, will ever pray, etc. {Here follow the signatures.") CAROLINE COUNTY, VA., September 8, 189 . To the General Assembly of the State of Iowa : The petition of the undersigned, citizens of the village of Port Kennedy, respectfully sets forth, That they have learned that a bill is now before the two Houses of Assembly, for the purpose of erecting the town aforesaid into a corporate borough, and, believing such a measure- to be unnecessary and injurious, and against the will of the inhabitants in the limits of the proposed borough, respectfully, but energetically, remonstrate against its passage by you* honorable body. And your petitioners, as in duty bound, will ever pray, etc. {Here follow the signatures.) -, IN COMMON COUNCIE, To THE MAYOR AND ALDERMEN OF THE CITY OF ASSEMBLED : Gentlemen : The undersigned respectfully solicit your honorable body to open and extend Walnut street, which now terminates at Adams street, through blocks Nos. 10 and 12 in Hall's addition to , to Benton street, thereby making Walnut a nearly straight and con tinuous street for two miles, and greatly accommodating the people in that portion of the city. (Here insert city, state, and date.) [Signed by two hundred tax-payers, more or less^\ To THE MAYOR AND ALDERMEN OF THE CITY OF ASSEMBLED : Gentlemen : The undersigned citizens and tax payers of -, IN COMMON COUNCII -, feeling that life an K^ident proceeds to read the regular toasts, which have been prepared beforehand by one of the sub-committees. At dinners on the Fourth of July, or anniversaries connected with public matters, the number of regular toasts is thirteen, commemorative of the original number of States. It is not neces sary to have so many on ordinary occasions. But there are certain toasu.- T given in certain order, which are never to be omitted. The first toast is to the day celebrated, if it be a particular day. If not, what would be th$ second toast, "The President of the United States," becomes the first. This toast is always to be received with applause, even if the party dining be politically opposed to him, because the toast is to the office, and not the man. The next in order is to the Governor of the State ; and the next is to the invited guest, if there be one. The last toast is always given to the opposite sex. After the President has read the toasts, the Vice-President, at the other end of the table, who should be furnished with a copy, also reads aloud. The guests, as they an about to drink it, repeat it, or part of it aloud. If the guest be toasted, it being personal, every one rises and drinks standing, follow ing their drinking by applause. If, how ever, the personal fc^t be to anj who are 460 BUSINESS RULES AND FORMS. dead, although all rise, they drink the toast and resume their seats in perfect silence. The guest of the evening, having been toasted, is expected to reply, which he does so soon as the party has seated itself, after it has drunk the toast. As he rises, the President does the same, mentions his name, and resumes his own seat until the guest has closed. Volunteer Toasts. The regular toasts being through, volun teer ones are in order. If it be desired that any one should speak, the usual course is to propose a toast in his honor. After this has been done, it is ex pected that he will rise, return thanks, and make such proper remarks as will please the company. If, after the cloth has been removed, a song be desired from any one, his name is called out Mr. (naming him) for a song. The President then repeats: "Mr. is called upon for a song." If the party is in voice at all, his best plan is to rise and sing at once ; if not, he will rise, excuse himself, and offer a sentiment, or tell a story. Towards the close of the entertainment, the President will leave his seat and call a Vice-President, or some other gentleman, tc it; and the company will keep the fun going as long as they think proper. When the principal guest leaves, the com pany will rise, and remain standing until he has left the room. As the President is responsible for the good ordei and harmony of the occasion, the company are bound by the strictest obli gation of honor to obey his directions and carry out his wishes in all things. Formerly, at these public dinners, men drank to excess. To do this now is con sidered ill-bred. Indeed, no guest need drink at all, unless he chooses. He should keep a glass of wine before him, and raise it to his lips at every toast; but, if he should not choose to drink, good manners require that no one should note his abstinence. A GROUP OF BENEDICT COLLEGE GIRLS. GRADUATING CLASS, RICHMOND THEOLOGICAL SEMINARS. BOOK V Manual of Practical Suggestions and Useful Information for the Home and School. CHAPTER XLIII. The Art of Writing Well, Showing How to Acquire c Good Hand- Writing, and How to Express Written Thoughts in a Correct Manner. JIITING is the art of expressing ideas by visible signs or characters inscribed on some material. It is either ideographic or phonetic. Ideographic writing may be either pictorial, representing objects by imitating their forms, or symbolic, by indicating their nature or proportions. Phonetic writing may be syllabic or alpha betic; in the former, each character repre sents a syllable ; in the latter, a single letter. The first mention of written letters of which we have any record is in the account given in the Book of Exodus of the Tables of the Law. We are told that the Ten Commandments were written by the finger of God on tables or tablets of stone. This statement has led some writers, among them the learned Dr. Adam Clarke, to believe that letters were Divinely invented upon this ^ccasion. There is no necessity, however, - taking this view of the case ; for at the time of the "Giving of the Law," a written language belonged to each of the nations on the southern shore of the Mediterranean. The Phoenician alphabet, upon which that of the Hebrews was modelled, had beei; in existence for several centuries before thii' time, and as Phoenicia was then a dependency of Egypt, and engaged in active commerce with that country, Moses was doubtless acquainted with the Phoenician system. The fact that the Hebrew alphabet was modelled upon the Phoenician seems almost a positive proof of this theory. The early history of the alphabet has to be reconstructed from inscriptions, as noth ing in the shape of manuscripts are now in existence to tell us what were the forms oi the letters. These are handed down in bronze and stone. The date of the invention of the Phoenician alphabet, which was the first purely phonetic system ever used, is now definitely settled. It was during the supremacy of the Shep herd Kings over Egypt. These were princes of Canaanitish origin, who had conquered Lower Egypt, and were contemporary with Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and Joseph. The 4.61 ' 462 MANUAL OF PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS. discoveries of science give us reason to believe that it was the Shepherd Kings of Avaris, who borrowed from the Egyptian hieratic writing a certain number of alpha betical characters, employed them to re present the sounds of their own language, and thus produced the Phoenician alphabet of twenty-two letters, the origin of most of the other alphabets of the world. The Phoenicians not only invented the alphabet ; they taught the use of it to all nations with whom they had commercial transactions. With the progress of the world, the art of writing and the characters employed were greatly simplified, until the system in use at present was adopted b) the civilized nations of the world. Penmanship is the art of writing well. It is one of the most important accomplish ments a person can possess. No matter what /our position in life, the ability to write a ood ; clear, legible hand, is a priceless pos session. To a young man starting out to inake his way in life, it is so much genuine uamt^l, which he can turn to advantage at almost every step. The great object should be to write a firm, clear hand, with uniformly made, well-shaped, and properly shaded letters. An abundance of flourishes or marks is a defect, except where ornamental writing or "flourishing" is intended. The present system of forming and com bining letters seems to be perfect. It enables the writer to put his thoughts on paper almost with the rapidity of speech, and it is not probable that it will ever be improved upon. i In this country two styles of penmanship are in use. One is known as the round hand, the other as the angular. A new sys tem, known as the semi-angular, has been introduced, mainly through the efforts of the Spencers, and of Payson, Dunton and Scribner, and is winning its way to favor. The "copy books" prepared by these masters present the best and most progressive system of penmanship now accessible to the learner, and we cordially commend them to all. Practice Necessary. The only way in which a person can acquire the art of writing a good hand is by constant and conscientious practice. With some persons good penmanship is a gift, but all may acquire it by persistent practice. Select a good system of copies the series referred to above cannot be improved upon and try faithfully to form your hand upon the model selected. Do not be satisfied until you can do as well as the master you are seeking to imitate. Writing Materials. It is of the greatest importance that the writing materials used by you shculu be of the best quality. The pen should be of steel or of gold. Many persons prefer the gold pen, because it more nearly approaches the quill in flexi bility. It is also the most durable pen. A good gold pen, properly used, should last for years. For general use, and especially for ornamental writing, a good steel pen is by far the best. It enables you to make a finer and sharper line than can possibly be made with the gold or quill pen. The paper should be of the best quality and texture, clearly ruled, and not too rough in surface. It is most common now to use copy books, regularly prepared and ruled. It is a good plan, after you have completed a copy book, to go over the same set of copies again. This may be done by taking half a dozen sheets of foolscap and cutting them in half. Place the half sheets within each other, and stitch them together, protecting the whole with a cover of AR". OF WRITING WELL. 463 paper. Then use the copies of the book you have just finished, writing on the new book you have thus made. Blotters and Ink. A slip of blotting-paper should be pro vided for every copy book. In writing rest the hand upon this, especially in warm weather. The perspiration thrown off by the hand is greasy in its nature, and soils the paper upon which the hand rests, and renders it unfit to receive the ink. Never use poor ink. Black ink should always be used in learning to write, and in ordinary correspondence. Blue and red inks are designed for special purposes, and not for ordinary use. An ink that flows freely and is nearly black when first used is best. Do not use a shallow or light inkstand. The first will not allow you to fill your pen properly; the latter will be easily turned over. The inkstand should be heavy and flat, and of such a form that you can at once see the amount of ink in it, and thus knov how deep to dip your pen. Dip your pen lightly into the ink, and see that it does not take up too much. The surplus ink should be thrown back into the inkstand, and not upon the floor. By stopping the mouth of the bottle when you have finished using it, you will prevent the ink from evaporating tcK. f ast, and also from becoming too thick. A pei: wiper should always be provided. This should be of some substance that will not leave a fibre in the slit of the pen. A linen rag or a piece of chamois or buckskin will answer. Position of the Writer. After you have learned to write, it is well to provide your desk with a lead pencil, a piece of India rubber, a ruler, and a bottle of mucilage and a brush. In writing in a sitting position, a flat table is the best. The position of the writer is a matter of the greatest importance, as it decides his comfort at the time, and exercises a powerful influence upon his general health. The main object is to acquire an easy and graceful position, one in which the right arm has full play of the muscles used in writing. The table should be sufficiently high to compel you to sit upright. Avoid stooping, as destructive of a good hand and of good health. Your position should be such as will enable you to fill your lungs without much CORRECT POSITION OF A LADY IN WRITING. effort. Sit with your right side next to the desk or table, and in such a position that the light will fall over your right shoulder upon the paper. The right forearm must be placed on the desk so as to rest the muscle front of the elbow, and the hand placed on the book so as to rest the nails of the third and fourth fingers. The forearm must be at right angles with the copy, the book being steadied by the fingers of the left hand placed on the paper at the left of the pen point. Hold the wrist naturally ever the desk, and you will see that the inner side is raised a little higher than V 464 ART OF WRITING WELL. 465 fche outer. Keep the wrist free from the desk, and do not let it turn over to the right or the left, or bend down or up, or otherwise. How to Hold the Pen. Hold the pen lightly between the thumb and first two fingers, letting it cross the forefinger in front of the third joint. Rest the base of the holder at the nail of the middle finger. Place the forefinger over the holder. Bend the thumb and fingers out ward, and the third and fourth fingers under to rest the hand on the nails. Let the nibs of the pen press the paper evenly. The movements in writing are produced by the extension and retraction of the pen- fingers and the thumb ; by the action of the forearm on the arm-rest as a centre of motion ; the whole arm movement, which is the action of the whole arm from the shoulder as the centre of motion ; and the union of all these move ments. In or dinary writing, the first is suffi cient. In orna mental writing, flourishin g, etc., all the various move ments are em ployed. The fingers should be kept flexible, and their move ments as well as those of the hand and wrist, should be free and unrestrain ed. Cramping or stiffening either the fingers or the wrist causes the handwriting to be 30C INCORRECT MODE OF HOLDING THE PEN. PROPER. MODE OF HOLDING THE PEN. CORRECT POSITION OF THE HAND. cramped and awkward, and greatly fatigues the writer. The pen should be held as lightly as though the least pressure would crush it, and not grasped as though you thought it would fly away. The Standing Position. In standing at a desk to write, stand up right, and with the chest well thrown out. The desk should be high enough to compel you to do this. It should slightly incline from the outer edge upwards, and should project far enough to allow you to place your feet well under it. The principal weight of the body should rest upon the left foot, the right being thrown forward. Stand with your left side toward the desk, and rest your body on the left elbow, which should be laid upon the desk in such a manner as to enable you to steady your paper or book with the left hand. This position will enable you to write freely in the ordinary manner, or to use the whole forearm should you desire to do so. The pen-holder should point towards the right shoulder. A great saving of fatigue is made by assuming and keeping a correct position while writing either sitting or standing. By conscientiously attending to this matter, you will soon acquire the habit of maintaining a correct position, and will reap the benefit in the ease with which you perform your task, and in improved health. No one should be satisfied with a bad handwriting when it is in his power to im prove it. Any one can procure a copy book, and can spare an hour, or half an hour, a day for this effort at improvement. You should begin at the beginning, and practise faithfully until you have reached a satisfactory result. Remember that a good hand is not acquired in a week or a month ; it takes long and diligent practice to produce ART OF WRITING WELL. 46; this result. The end, however, is worth all the labor necessary to its accomplishment. Plain Writing 1 Always the Best. The great aim should be to make the handwriting legible. An ornamental hand is very attractive, but it may be this and yet not easily read. This is to fail in the first requisite of good writing. The advantages of writing well are numerous, and will readily suggest them selves. In the first place, it is always a pleasure to prepare a plainly and neatly- written letter or paper. The writer is then never afraid or ashamed for his friends to see his writing, and is never disgraced by a wretched scrawl in addressing a letter to a stranger. A good hand is also an invaluable aid to a young man seeking employment. A mer chant in employing clerks and salesmen will always give the preference to the best pen man. A young man applying by letter for a situation can scarcely offer a better refer ence than the appearance of his letter. Should you wish to become a book-keeper or accountant, a good handwriting is a neces sity. How to Spell Correctly. Whether a person is a good penman or not, it is necessary that he should know how to make use of his ability to write, or, in other words, how to transfe' corectly his thoughts to paper. The first requisite is to know how to spell correctly. This is even more important than writing a good hand. A badly-spelled letter is much more of a disgrace to the writer than one badly written. The habit of spelling correctly may be easily acquired, and once mastered is rarely lost. Our language is so rich in words that even the best of spellers may sometimes be unable to give the proper orthography of a word, but the knowledge of the general principles which govern the formation of English words will enable him to meet all the ordi nary demands likely to be made upon him, These may be found in almost any spelling- book, or work upon the principles of com position. It is well, however, to give a few of the most important here. We may remark, in passing, that writing words out in full on paper, or on a slate, is an admirable means of impressing them upon the memory. All words of one syllable ending in /, with a single vowel before it, have double / at the close: as mill, sell. All words of one syllable ending in /, with a double vowel before it, have one / only at the close : as mail, sail. Words of more than one syllable ending in /, when compounded, retain but one / each : as, fulfil, skilful. Words of more than one syllable ending in /, have one / only at the close : as, delight- fid, faithful,- except befall, downfall, recall, unwell, etc. All derivations from words ending in / have one / only : as, equality, from equal / fulness, from full,' except they end in er or ly: as, mill, miller / full, fully. All participles in ing from verbs ending in e lose the c final: as, have, having / amuse, amusing unless they come from verbs end ing in double c, and then they retain both: as, see, seeing,- agree, agreeing. All adverbs in ly and nouns in merit retain the c final of the primitives: as, brave, bravely ; refine, refinement ; except acknowl edgment and judgment. All derivations from words ending in er retain the c before the /- . as, refer, reference ,- except hindrance', from hinder / remembrance^ from remember ; disastrous, from disaster / monstrous, from monster; wondrous, from wonder n/m^rous, from cumber, etc. ^fJXoT^//^ 7 ^ i^r-i es ART OF WRITING \ 469 Compound words, if both end not in /, ?;;;ain their primitive parts entire : as, mill stone, changeable, raceless ; except always, also, deplorable, although, almost, admirable, etc. All one-syllables ending in a consonant, with a single vowel before it, double that consonant in derivatives ; as sin, sinner ; ship, sJ lipping ; big, bigger ; glad, gladder ; etc. One-syllables ending in a consonant, with a double vowel before it, do not double the consonant in derivatives: as, sleep, sleeper ,- troop, trooper All words of more than one syllable end ing in a single consonant, preceded by a single vowel, and accented on the last syllable, double that consonant in derivatives: as, commit, committee compel, compelled ', appal, appalling , distil, distiller. Nouns of one syllable ending in y, pre ceded by a consonant, change y into ies in the plural; and verbs ending in y, preceded by a consonant, change y into ies in the third person singular of the present tense, and into ied in the past tense and past participle: v&, fly, flies,- I apply, he applies zje reply, we replied, or have replied. If the y be preceded by a vowel, this rule is not applicable : as, key, keys / / play, he plays / we have enjoyed ourselves. Compound words whose primitives end in y, change y into i: as, beauty, beautiful / lovely, loveliness. How to Use Capital Letters. It is an excellent plan to keep a small dictionary at hand, in order that you may refer at once to the word if you are in doubt as to its orthography. The standard recog- I nized in the United States is either Worcester j or Webster. Johnson's is good, or Walker's, j and for students' use, Stormonth's is available and \iandy. There is no surer mark of an educated person than the proper use ot capital letters. To omit them when they should be used is a serious blunder, and to make too profuse a display of them is to disfigure your writing, and proclaim yourself ignorant of one of the first principles of correct writing. The rules governing the use of these let ters are few, simple, and easily remembered. , They may be stated as follows : The first word of every book, chapter, letter, note, or any other piece of writing should begin with a capital letter. The names of the months and the days of the week should always begin with a capital letter. The first word after a period should begin with a capital letter. The first word after every interrogation, or exclamation, should begin with a capital letter; unless a number of interrogative or exclamatory sentences occur together, and are not totally independent. The various names or appellations of the Deity should begin with a capital letter: as, God, Jehovah, the Almighty, the Supreme Being, the Lord, Providence, the Messiah, the Holy Spirit, etc. All proper names, such as the names of persons, places, streets, mountains, lakes, rivers, ships, etc., and adjectives derived from them, should begin with a capital letter. The first word of a quotation after a colon, or when it is in direct form, should begin with a capital letter. The first word of an example, every sub stantive and principal word in the titles of books, and the first word of every line in poetry, should begin with a capital letter. The pronoun I, and the interjection O, are always written in capitals. Any words, when remarkably emphatic, or when they are the principal subject of the a: O u_ O z LU i7U ART OF WRITING WELL. 471 composition, may begin with capitals. The observance of these rules is important. How to Punctuate Correctly. A knowledge of punctuation is very im portant. A document not punctuated, or not punctuated properly, may present a neat appearance if written in a good hand and correctly spelled, but its value may often be entirely destroyed by incorrect punctuation. A notable instance of this occurred in Eng land, and is thus noticed in the London 7^i Dies : "The contract lately made for lighting the town of Liverpool, during the ensuing year, has been thrown void by the misplac ing of a comma in the advertisement, which ran thus : ' The lamps at present are about 4050 in number, and have in general two spouts each, composed of not less than twenty threads of cotton. ' The contractor would have proceeded to furnish each lamp with the said twenty threads; but, this being but half the usual quantity, the commissioner discovered that the difference arose from the comma following, instead of preceding the word each. The parties agreed to annul the con tract, and a new one was ordered." Punctuation Marks. A Mr. Sharpe once engraved a portrait of a certain Richard Brothers, and gave the fol lowing certificate to that effect. The docu ment was designed as a simple statement of fact. The misplacement of a comma, how ever converted it into a piece of gross pro fanity. It read as follows : " Believing Richard Brothers to be a prophet sent, by God I have engraved his portrait." Had the comma been placed after the name of the Deity, the effect would have been very dif ferent. Punctuation is the art of dividing a written composition into sentences ; and is princi pally used to mark the grammatical divisions of a sentence. The marks employed in punctuation are sometimes used to note the different pauses and tones of voice, which the sense and accurate pronounciation re quire. The characters or marks used in punctua tion are as follows : The Comma, , The Semicolon, ; The Colon, The Period, The Quotation Marks, " " The Diaeresis, The Crotchets, ( ) The Brackets, [ ] The Exclamation, ! The Interrogation, ? The Dash, -- The Ellipsis, The Hyphen, The Breve, >-> The Apostrophe ' The Brace, The Acute Accent, ' The Grave Accent, N The Circumflex Accent, A The Caret, A The Cedilla, c. In addition to these the following marks of reference are used : t The Section, The Parallels, The Paragraph, The Asterisk, The Obelisk, The Index, The Double Obelisk, % Rules of I'M net iiat ion. When two or more words are connected without the connecting word being expressed, the comma supplies the place of that word ; as " Alfred was a brave, pious, patriotic prince." Those parts of a sentence which contain the relative pronoun, the case absolute, the nom inative case independent, any parenthetical clause, and simple members of sentences, connected by words expressing a comparison, must be separated by commas ; as, " The elephant, which you saw in the menagerie, took the child up with his trunk into his cage." " Shame being lost, all virtue is lost." " Peace, O Virtue, peace is all thine own." u Better is a dinner of herbs with love, thai a stalled ox and hatred therewith." The following words and phrases, and others similar to them, are generally separated cz J60tcnse be complete in each, are not wholly Independent ; as, " Nature felt her inability to extricate herself from the consequences of guilt; the Gospel reveals the plan of Divine interposition and aid." Here the clauses are complete in sense, yet form one sentence. TLe colon is used when an example, a quotation, or a speech is introduced; as ? " The Scriptures give us an amiable repre sentation of the Deity in these words: God is love." The period is used at the end of a complete and independent sentence. It is also placed after initial letters when used alone ; and, likewise, after all , abbreviations ; as, "One clear and direct path is pointed out to man." " Fear God." " Have charity towards all men." " G. W.," for "George Washington." "Geo.," for "George." "Benj.," for "Ben- jamin." "O. S.," for "Old Style." " F. R. S.," for "Fellow of the Royal Society." In a general view, the period separates the paragraph into sentences; the semicolon divides a compound sentence into simple ones ; and the comma collects into clauses the scattered circumstances of manner, time, place, relation, etc., belonging to every verb and to every noun. Interrogation and Exclamation Marks. The note of interrogation, or the question, as it is sometimes called, is placed after every sentence which contains a question ; as, "Who is this?" "What havr you in your hand?" "The Cyprians said to me, Why do you weep ? " The exclamation point is used to express any sudden or violent emotion ; such as sur prise, joy, grief, love, hatred, anger, pity, anxiety, ardent wish, etc. It is also used to mark an exalted idea of the Deity; and is generally placed after the nominative case in dependent; and after the noun or pronoun which follows an interjection ; as, " How mischievous are the effects of war l r * O blissful days ! Ah me ! how soon we pass !" The exclamation point is also used after ONE-HAND ALPHABET, B C D E SIGNS USED FOR LETTERS BY THE DEAF AND DUMB. ART OF WRITING WELL. 475 sentences containing a question when no answer is expected ; as, " What is more amia- able than virtue!" Several exclamation points are sometimes used together, either in a parenthesis or by themselves, for the purpose of expressing ridicule or a great degree of surprise. The Parenthesis, Bracket, Hyphen, Etc. A parenthesis is a sentence, or a part of a sentence, inserted within another sentence, but which may be omitted without injuring the sense or construction, and is enclosed between two closed lines like these : ( ). The curved lines between which a paren thesis is enclosed are called crotchets. Sometimes a sentence is enclosed between marks like these, [ ], which are called brackets. The following difference 13 to be noticed in the use of crotchets and brackets: Crotchets are used to enclose a sentence, or part of a sentence, which is inserted between the parts of another sentence: Brackets are generally used to separate two subjects or to enclose an explanatory note or observation standing by itself. When a parenthesis occurs within another parenthesis, I rackets enclose the former, and crotchets the latter ; as in the following sentence from Stern : "I know the banker I deal with, or the physician I usually call in [there is no need, cried Dr. Slop (wak ing), to call in any physician in this case], to be neither of them man of much religion." It may be here remarked that a parenthe sis is frequently placed between commas, in stead of crotchets, etc. ; but the best writers avoid the use of parenthesis as much as possible. The hyphen is a small mark placed between the parts of a compound word ; as, sea- water, semi-circle. The hyphen is also used to denote the long sound of a vowel ; as, Epicure-an, deco-rum. The hyphen must always be put at the end of the line when part of the word is in one line and part in another ; but in this case, the letters of a syllable must never be sep arated ; as, extraor dinary, not ext raordinary. The dash is a straight mark longer than a hyphen ; thus, The proper use of the dash is to express a sudden stop or change of the subject ; but by modern writers, it is employed as a sub stitute for almost all of the other marks: being used sometimes for a comma, semi colon, colon or period ; sometimes for a question or an exclamation, and sometimes for crotchets and brackets to enclose a paren thesis. An ellipsis or omission of words, syllables or letters, is indicated by various marks: sometimes by a dash ; as, the k g, for the king; sometimes by asterisks or stars, like these, * * * * ; sometimes by hyphens, thus, ; sometimes by small dots or periods, like these, .... The breve (thus ) is placed over a vowel to indicate its short sound ; St. Helena. The apostrophe is the comma placed above the line. It is used as the sign of the pos sessive case, and sometimes indicates the omission of a letter or several letters ; as, "John's;" "'tis" for "it is;" " tho'" for ' though;" "lov'd" for "loved;" "I'll" for "I will." The quotation marks, or inverted commaSj as they are sometimes called, consist of four commas, two inverted, or upside dow r n, at the beginning of a word, phrase or sentence which is quoted or transcribed from some author in his own words and two others, In 470 ART OF WRITING WELL. 477 their direct position, placed at the conclu sion ; as, an excellent poet says : "The proper study of mankind is man." Sometimes the quotation is marked by sin gle instead of double commas. The diaeresis consists of two periods placed ovei '"he latter of two vowels to show that they are w? be pronounced in separate sylla bles ; as, Laocu^n, Zoonomia, cooperate. The brace is employed to unite several lines of poetry, or to connect a number of words with one common term ; and it is also used to prevent a repetition in writing or printing ; thus, "Waller was smooth; but Dryden taught him to join ) The varying verse, the full-reounding line, The long majestic march an;: energy divine." J C-po-v-s 1 S-c-i'-oHi-s I" are P ronounce d like shus. T-i-o-u-s j The cedilla, or cerilla, is a curve line placed under the letter <:, to show that it has the sound of s. It is used principally in words derived from the French language. Thus garden, in which word the 9 is to be pronounced like s. The accents are marks used to signify the proper pronounciation of words. The accents are three in number : The grave accent, thus, v The acute accent, thus, ' The circumflex accent, thus, ^ The grave accent is represented by a mark placed over a letter, or syllable, to show that it must be pronounced with the falling in flection of the voice ; as, Reuthamir. The acute accent is represented by a jimilar mark, pointing in the opposite direction, to show that the letter or syllable must be pronounced with the rising inflec tion of the voice ; thus, Epicurean, European. The meaning of a sentence often depends on the kind of accent which is used ; thus the following sentence, if che acute accen 1 , be used on the word alone, becomes * ques tion : " Pleased thoushalt hear, and thou a!6ne shalt hear?" But if the grave accent be placed on the word alone, it becomes a simple declaration ; as, " Pleased thou shalt hear, and thou alone shalt hear. " The circumflex accent is the union of the grave and acute accents, and indicates that the syllable on which it is placed should have both the rising and falling inflection of the voice. The caret is a mark resembling an in verted V , placed under the line. It is never used in printed books, but, in manuscripts, shows that something has been accidentally omitted ; as, recited " George has his lesson." A When many notes occur on a page, and the reference marks given above are *_"" hausted, it is customary to double them. Some writers prefer to use the numerals, i> 2, 3, 4, etc., as simpler. TKis is a matter of taste with the writer. Sections and Paragraphs. The section and the paragraph 1 ure used to mark the parts of a composition thut should be separated. Y/here you wish the compositor to separate a paragraph into two or more paragraphs, it is not necessary to rewrite the page. Place the 1 where yon wish each new paragraph to begin, and thc- compositor will understand your wishes. A paragraph denotes the beginning of i new subject, or a sentence not connecter Avith the foregoing. A section is used for subdividing a chapte. into smaller parts. It is proper here to add, that every com position should be divided into panigra;>:is, SPECIMEN OF ORNAMENTAL PENMANSHIP. 478 ART OF WRITING WELL. 479 when the sense will allow the separation. Different subjects, unless they are very short, or very numerous in a small compass, should be separated into paragraphs. Uiiderscori ng-. Many mistakes arise from improperly underscoring the words of a manuscript or letter. It is well to refrain from underscor ing a word wherever you can do so with propriety, just as you would avoid unduly- emphasizing your words in speaking. A single line drawn under a word indicates that it must be set by the compositor in italics; as, "I dearly love her." Two lines indicate small capitals; as, "I honor him." Three lines indicate large capitals ; as, "Help, help, I cry." GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF GRAMMAR. Although the details of Grammar and grammatical rule are not embraced in the plan of this work, we may with propriety present some observations with regard to those principles which are most frequently forgotten or disregarded by careless writers. These are here presented in the form of directions. DIRECTION ist. In determining the number of a verb, regard must be had to the idea which is embraced in the subject or nominative. Whenever the idea of plu rality is conveyed, whether it be expressed by one word or by one hundred, and how ever connected, and in whatever number the subject may be, whether singular or plural, all verbs relating to it must be made to agree, not with the number of the word or zvords, but with the number of the idea con veyed by the words. DIRECTION ad. In the use of pronouns the same remark applies: namely, that the number of the pronoun must coincide with the idea contained in the word, or words, to which the pronoun relates. If it imply unity, the pronoun must be singular; if it convey plurality, the pronoun must be plural. These directions will be better understood by an example. Thus, in the sentence, "Each of them, in their turn, receive the benefits to which they are entitled," the verbs and pronouns are in the wrong number. The word each, although it includes all, implies but one at a time. The idea, therefore, is the idea of unity, and the verb and pronoun should be singular; thus, "Each of them in his turn receives the benefit to which he is entitled." The same remark may be made with re gard to the following sentences : " Every per son, whatever be their (his) station, is bound by the duties of morality." "The wheel killed another man, who is the sixth that have (has) lost their (his) lives (life) by these means." "I do not think that any one should incur censure for being tender of their (his) reputation." DIRECTION 3d. In the use of verbs and words which express time, care must be taken that the proper tense be employed to express the time that is intended. Perhaps there is no rule more frequently violated than this, even by good writers ; but young writers are very prone to the error ; thus the author of the Waverley Novels has the fol lowing sentence : " ' Description,' he said, ' was (is) to the author of a romance exactly what drawing and tinting were (are) to a painter; words were (are) his colors, and, if properly em ployed, they could (can) not fail to place the scene which he wished (wishes) to conjure up as effectually before the mind's eye as the tablet or canvas presents it to the bodily or gan. The same rules,' he continued, 'ap plied (apply) to both, and an exuberance of SPECIMENS OF VISITING CARDS. 180 ART OF WRITING WELL. 4 loved, but not so much admired as Cynthio," is inaccurate, because when it is analyzed, it will be, " He was more beloved as Cynthio," etc. The adverb more requires the conjunc tion than after it ; and the sentence should be, " He was more beloved than Cynthio, but not so much admired." Again, in the sentence, " If a man have a hundred sheep, and one of them goes astray," etc., the subjunctive word, have, is used after the conjunction if, in the first part of the sentence, and the indicative goes, in the sec ond. Both of these verbs should be in the indicative, or both in the subjunctive mood. No definite rule can be given which will enable the learner to make the parts of a sen tence agree in themselves, and with one an other. They should be diligently compared, and a similarity of construction be carefully maintained ; while the learner will recollect that no sentence can be considered grammat ically correct, which cannot be analyzed or parsed by the authorized rules of Syntax. Construction of Sentences. In the construction of sentences care should be taken f,o choose the simplest words, and those which most directly and strikingly convey the meaning you wish to express. Three things are necessary in a correct sentence purity, propriety and pre cision. Purity consists in using such words and expressions as belong to the idiom of the English language, in place of words or phrases drawn from foreign or dead lang uages, or that are either ungrammatical, ob solete, newly coined or not sanctioned by usage. The use of words that are not Eng lish is a violation of this rule, and is termed a barbarism. The rule is also violated by the use of words or phrases not constructed ART OF WRITING WELL. 483 in the En -lish idiom. This fault, is termed a solecism, By using words or phrares to convey a meaning different from that as signed to them by custom, you ctlsa violate the rule. This is termed an impropriety. Propriety in writing consists in the use of words sanctioned oy th_ usage of the best writers to convey your meaning, and in the avoidance of low, vulgar or less elegant and significant words. In order to remain faith ful to this principle, a writer should bear in mind the following rules : Avoid low or slang expressions. Supply words that, are wanting. Do not use the same word in different senses. Wherever it is possible, avoid the use of technical terms ; by which is meant terms or expressions used in some art, occu pation or profession. Do not use ambiguous or equivocal words. Avoid unintelligible and inconsistent words or phrases. When words or phrases are not adapted to the ideas you intend to communicate, avoid the use of them. Precision means to make your writing a clear find concise statement of your thoughts, so clear that no one reading it can fail to com prehend your exact meaning. You may use words that convey a meaning different from that you intend ; or they may not entirely convey your meaning ; or they may convey more than you intend. Precision is des igned to express neither more nor less than your exact thought. Do not make your sentences very long ; neither make them very short. When a sentence is too long, the attention of the reader is drawn off from the first part while considering the last, and he finds it difficult to perceive the connection between them. Short sentences generally weaken the thought. Sentences of moderate length, clearly and strikingly expressed, are the best. The Best Style,, " Style," says Dr. Blair, " is the peculiar manner in which a writer expresses his thoughts by words." Various terms are applied to style to ex press its character, as a harsh style, a dry style, a tumid or bombastic style, a loose style, a terse style, a laconic or a verbose style, a flowing style, a lofty style, an ele gant style, an epistolary style, a formal style, a familiar style, etc. The divisions of style, as given by Dr. Blair, are as follows : The diffuse and the concise, the nervous and the feeble, the dry, the plain, the neat, the elegant, the florid, the simple, the affected, and the vehement. These terms are altogether arbitrary, and are not uniformly adopted in every treatise on rhetoric. Some writers use the terms barren and luxuriant, forcible and vehe- men^ elevated and dignified, idiomatic, easy and animated, etc., in connection with the terms, or some of the terms employed by Dr. Blair. The character of the style, and the term by which it is designated, depends partly on the clearness, the fulness, and the force with which the idea is expressed ; partly on the de gree of ornament or of figurative language employed ; while the character of the thoughts or ideas themselves is expressed by the names of simple or natural, affected and vehement. A concise writer compresses his ideas in to the fewest words, and these the most ex pressive. A diffuse writer unfolds his idea fully, b) placing it in a variety of lights. A nervous writer gives us a strong idea of his meaning his words are alwavs express ive every phrase and every figure renders MANUAL OF PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS. the picture which he would set before us more striding and complete. A feeble writer has an indistinct view of his subject ; unmeaning words and loose epithets escape him ; his expressions are vague and general, his arrangements indis tinct, and our Conception of his meaning will be faint and confused. A dry writer uses no ornament of any kind, and, content with being understood, aims not to please the fancy or the ear. A plain writer employs very little orna ment ; he observes perspicuity, propriety, purity, and precision in his language, but attempts none of the graces of composition. A dry writer is incapabl^ of o~nament c, plain writer goes not in oursuit of it A neat writer is careful in the choice of his words, and the graceful collocation of them. His sentences are free from the en cumbrances of superfluous words, and his figures are short and accurate, rather than bold and glowing. An elegant writer possesses all the graces of ornament polished periods, figurative language, harmonious expressions, and a great degree of purity in the choice of his words, all characterized by perspicuity and propriety, He is one, in short, who delights the fancy and the ear, while he informs the understanding. A florid or flowery writer is characterized by excess of ornament ; and seems to be more intent on beauty of language than solidity of thought. A simple or natural writer is distinguished by simplicity of plan ; he makes his thoughts .appear to rise naturally from his subject ; he has no marks of art in his expressions, and although he may be characterized by great richness both of language and imagination, he appears to write in that way not because he had studied it, but because it is the mode of expression most natural to him. The charm of such a style is evident to all readers. An affected writer is the very reverse of a simple one. He uses words in uncommon meanings employs pompous expressions and his whole manner is characterized by singularity rather tnan by beauty. A vehement writer uses strong expressions is characterized by considerable warmth of manner and presents his ideas clearly and fully before us. The following directions are given by Dr. Blair for attaining a good style : The first direction is, study clear ideas of the subject on which you are to write or speak. What we conceive clearly and feel strongly, we naturally express with clearness and strength. Secondly, to the acquisition of a good style, frequency of composing is indispens ably necessary. But it is not every kind of composition that will improve style. By a careless and hasty habit of writing, a bad style will be acquired. In the beginning, therefore, we ought to write slowly and with much care. Facility and speed are the fruit of experience. Thirdly, acquaintance with the style of the best authors is peculiarly requisite. Hence a just taste will be formed, and a copious fund of words supplied on every subject. No ex ercise, perhaps, will be found more useful for acquiring a proper style than translating some passage from an eminent author in our own words, and then comparing what we have written with the style of the author. Such an exercise will show us our defects, will teach us to correct them, and, from the variety of expression which it will exhibit, will conduct us to that which is most beau tiful. Fourthly, caution must be used against servile imitation of any author whatever. ART OF WRITING WELL. 485 Desire of imitation hampers genius, and generally produces stiffness of expression. They who copy an author closely, commonly copy his faults as well as his beauties. It is much bettei to have something of our own, though of moderate beauty, than to shine in borrowed ornaments, which will at last betray the poverty of our genius. Fifthly, always adapt your style to the subject, and likewise to the capacity of your hearers or readers. When we are to write or speak, we should previously fix in our minds a clear idea of the end aimed at ; keep this steadily in view, and adapt our style to it. Lastly, let no attention to style engross us so much as to prevent a higher degree of attention to the thoughts He is a contemp tible writer who looks not beyond the dress of language ; who lays not the chief stress upon his matter, and employs not such ornaments of style as are manly, not foppish. "It is a useful admonition to young writers," says Archbishop Whately, "that they should always attempt to recast a sen tence that does not please; altering the arrangement and entire structure of it, instead of merely seeking to change one word for another. This will give a great advantage in point of copiosness also ; for there may be, suppose a substantive (or noun) which, either because it does not fully express our mean ing, or for some other reason, we wish to remove, but can find no other to supply its place. But the object may be easily accom plished by means of a verb, adverb, or other part of speech, the substitution of which implies an alteration in the construction. It is an exercise, accordingly, which may be commended as highly conductive to improve ment of style to practice casting a sentence into a variety of different forms." The foregoing practical rules shonld be casefully noted and followed. THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. THE English language consists of about thirty-eight thousand words. This includes, of course, not only radical woids, but all derivatives ; except the preterits and partici ples of verbs ; to which must be added some few terms, which, though set down in the dictionaries, are either obsolete or have never ceased to be considered foreign. Of these, about twenty-three thousand, or nearly five-eighths, are of Anglo-Saxon origin. The majority of the rest, in what proportion we cannot say, are Latin and Greek ; Latin, however, has the larger share. The names of the greater part of the objects of sense in other words, the terms which occur most frequently in discourse, or which recall the most vivid conceptions are Anglo- Saxon. Thus, for example, the names of the most striking objects in visible nature^ of the chief agencies at work there, and of the changes which pass over it, are Anglo- Saxon. This language has given names tc* the heavenly bodies, the sun, the moon, and' stars ; to three of the four elements, earth ,, fire, and water ; three out of the four seasons,, spring, summer and winter ; and, indeed, to all the natural divisions of time, except one;, as, day, night, morning, evening, twilight, noon, midday, midnight, sunrise, sunset ; some of which are amongst the most poetical, terms we have. To the same language we are indebted for the names of light, heat, cold, frost, rain,, snow, hail, sleet, thunder, lightning, as welt as almost all of those subjects which form the component parts of the beautiful in external scenery, as sea and land, hill and dale, wood and stream, etc. It is from this language \ve derive the words which are expressive of the earliest and dearest connections, and the strongest powerful ^eelings of nature ; and 486 MANUAL OF PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS. which are, consequently, invested with our oldest and most complicated associations. It is this language which has given us names for father, mother, husband, wife, brother, sister, son, daughter, home, kindred, friends. 1 It is this which has furnished us with the ' greater part of those metonymies, and other figurative expressions, by which we represent to the imagination, and that in a single word, the reciprocal duties and enjoyments of hos pitality, friendship, or love. Such are hearth, roof, fireside. The chief emotions, too, of which we are susceptible, are expressed in the same language, as love, hope, fear, sorrow, shame ; and what is of more conse quence to the orator or poet, as well as in common life, the outward signs by which emotion is indicated are almost all Anglo- Saxon ; such are tear, smile, blush, to laugh, to weep, to sigh, to groan. Most of those objects, about which the practical reason of man is employed in com mon life, receive their names from the Anglo- Saxon. It is the language for the most part of business; of the counting-house, the shop, the market, the street, the farm ; and, how ever miserable the man who is fond of phil osophy or abstract science might be, if he had no other vocabulary but this, we must recol lect that language was made not for the few, but the many, and that portion of it which enables the bulk of a nation to express their wants and transact their affairs, must be considered of at least as much importance to general happiness, as that which serves the t purpose of philosophical science. Nearly all our national proverbs, in which, it is truly said, so much of the practical wis- 'dom of a nation resides, and which constitute the manual and vade mecum of " hobnailed" philosophy, are almost wholly Anglo-Saxon. A very large proportion (and that always the Strongest) of the language of invective, humor, satire, colloquial pleasantry, is Anglo. Saxon. Almost all the terms and phrases by which we most energetically express anger, contempt, and indignation, are of Anglo- Saxon origin. The" Latin contributes most largely to the language of polite life, as well as to that of polite literature. Again, it is often necessary to convey ideas, which, though not truly and properly offen sive in themselves, would, if clothed in the rough Saxon, appear so to the sensitive modesty of a highly refined state of society ; dressed in Latin, these very same ideas will seem decent enough. There is a large num ber of words, which, from the frequency with which they are used, and from their being so constantly in the mouths of the vulgar, would not be endured in polished society, though more privileged synonyms of Latin origin, or some classical circum locution, expressing exactly the same thing, pass unquestioned. There may be nothing dishonest, nothing really vulgar about the old Saxon word, yet it would be thoupht as uncoiith in a drawing- room, as the ploughman to whose rude use it is abandoned. Thus, the word "stench" is lavendered over into unpleasant effluvia, or or an ill odor ; "sweat," diluted into four times the number of syllables, becomes a very inoffensive thing in the shape of "per spiration." To "squint" is softened into obliquity of vision ; to be "drunk " is vulgar; but, if a man be simply intoxicated or in ebriated, it is comparatively venial. Indeed, we may say of the classical names of vices, what Burke more questionably said of vices themselves, "that they lose half their dev formity by losing all their grossness." In the same manner, we all know that it is very possible for a medical man to put to us questions under the seemly disguise oj scientific phraseology and polite circumlocu ART OF WRITING WELL. 487 tion, which, if expressed in the bare and rude vernacular, would almost be as nauseous as his draughts and pills. Lastly, there are many thoughts which gain immensely by mere novelty and variety of expression. This the judicious poet, who knows that the connection between thoughts and words is as intimate as that between body and spirit, well understands. There are thoughts in them selves trite and common-place, when ex pressed in the hackneyed terms of common life, which, if adorned by some graceful or felicitous novelty of expression, assume an unwonted air of dignity and elegance. What was trivial, becomes striking ; and what was plebeian, noble. COMMON ERRORS IN WRITING AND SPEAKING. There are many popular errors in writing end speaking our language. It may be well to notice some of them here. We often hear the phrase, from educated lips at that, " Between you and I. " It should be, " Between you and me." Many persons say, " What beautiful bread!" It should be, "What nice bread!" Instead of, "A new pair of shoes," say, "A pair of new shoes." Do not say, " Restore it back to me," but "Restore it to me." Instead of, "I seldom or ever meet her," say, " I seldom meet her." Instead of, " If I am not mistaken," say, " If I mistake not." Do not say, "Not no such thing," but " Not any such thing." Instead of, "I had rather walk," say, " I would rather walk." Instead of, " Let you and I," say, " Let you and me." Instead of, "Rather warmish," say, ** Rather warm." Instead of, " What a nice view," say, " What a beautiful view." Do not say, " Bred and born." It should be, " Born and bred." Instead of, " If I was him," say, " If I were he." Do not say, " I have less friends than you." It should be, "I have fewer friends thaA you." In reply to the question, "Who is there?" or, "Who is it?" say, "I," or, "It is I;" and not, " Me," or, "It is me." "Whether I be present or no," is wrong. It should be, "Whether I be present or not" .Instead of, "I had better go," say, "It were better that I should go." "A quantity of people," is wrong. It should be, "A number of people." "Six weeks back," is a barbarism. It should be, " Six weeks ago." "A new pair of gloves." It should be, "A pair of new gloves." Instead of saying, "He was in eminent danger," say, " He was in imminent dan ger." " Thinks I to myself," " Thinks I," "Says I," "Says he," are vulgarisms and should be avoided. Instead of, "I only want ten cents," say " I want only ten cents." " Because why ? " is a barbarism. It should be simply, "Why?" " The best of the two," is wrong. Say, "The better of the two." " There's fifty," is incorrect. It should be, "There are fifty." " He need not do it," is wrong. Say, " He needs not do it." Instead of, "It was spoke in my presence,* say, "It was spoken in my presence. 1 "She said, said she," is vulgar, as well as incorrect. It should be, "She said." Instead of saying, " My clothes have grown 488 MANUAL OF PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS. too small for me," say, " I have grown too Btout for my clothes." The change is in you, not in your clothes. Do not say, "On either side of the street." It should be, "On each side of the street." " I took you for another person," is in correct. It should be, ' I mistook you for another person." Instead of, " His health has been shook," say, "His health has been shaken." Instead of, " That there man," say, "That man." Instead of, " Somehow or another," say, " Somehow or other." Instead of, "Will I do this for you?" say, " Shall I do this for you ? " Instead of, "What will I do?" say, What shall I do ? " Instead of, "Following up a principle," say, " Guided by a principle." Instead of saying, " I belong to the .vla- Bonic order," say, " I am a member of the Masonic order." Instead of, " I enjoy bad health," say, " My health is not good." " Better nor that, " is vulgar and wrong. It should be, " Better than that." Instead of saying, "She was remarkable pretty," say, " She was remarkably pretty." Instead of, " We think on you," say, "We think of you." Instead of, " By this means," say, " By these means." Instead of, " All that was wanting," say, " All that was wanted." Instead of, " He is a bad statesman," say, " He is not a statesman." Instead of saying, " I am going over the bridge," say, " I am going across the bridge." Instead of saying, " I left you behind at Omaha," say, " I left you behind me at Omaha." Instead of saying, " He ascended up the mountain," say, " He ascended the moun tain." Instead of, " Mine is so good as yours," say, " Mine is as good' as yours." Instead of, " Adequate for," say, " Ade quate to." The phrase, " Pure and unadulterated, ' f is a repetition of terms. If a thing is pure, it is necessarily unadulterated. Instead of saying, " They are not what nature designed them," say, " They are not what nature designed them to be." Instead of, " How do you do ? " say, " How are you ? " Instead of, " To be given away gratis," say, " To be given away." Instead of, "I acquit you from," say, " I acquit you of." Instead of, " I live opposite the park," say, "I live opposite to the park." Instead of, "The want of wisdom, truth and honor are more visible," say, "The want of wisdom, truth and honoris more visible." Instead of, "A surplus over and above," say, " A surplus." Instead of, "A winter's morning," say, "A winter, or wintry, morning." Instead of, "I will send it conformable to your orders," say, "I will send it conformably to your orders." Instead of, "This ten days or more," say, " These ten days or more." Instead of, "I confide on you," say, "I confide in you." Instead of, "As soon as ever," say, "As soon as." Instead of, "I differ with you," say, "I differ from you." Instead of, "I am averse from that," say, "I am averse to that." Instead of, " The very best," or, "The very worst," say, "The best." or, "The worst" ART OF WRITING WELL. 489 Instead of, " No one has'nt called," say, "No one has called." Two negatives make an affirmative. Thus, to say, " Don't give that child no more sugar," is equivalent to saying, " Give that child some more sugar." Instead of saying, "I won't never do it again," say, "I will never do it again." Instead of, "I am conversant about it," say, "I am conversant with it" Instead of, "He died by consumption," say, "He died of consumption." Instead of, "The effort I am making for arranging this matter," say, "The effort I am making to arrange this matter." Instead of saying, " Your obedient humble servant," say, "Your obecUent servant." Instead of, "You are taller than me," say, "You are taller than I." Instead of, "You are mistaken," say, "You mistake." Instead of, "I suspect the veracity of his story," say, "I doubt the truth of his story." Instead of, " He was too young to have suffered much," say, "He was too young to suffer much." Instead of, " I hope you'll think nothing on it," say, "I hope you'll think nothing of it." Instead of, " His opinions are approved of by all," say, "His opinions are approved by all." Instead of, " Handsome is as handsome does," say, "Handsome is who handsome does." Instead of, "In case I succeed," say, "If I succeed." Instead of, "They loved one another," say, "They loved each other." Instead of, " The cake is all eat up," say, " The cake is eaten." Instead of, "The river isall froze up," say, "The river is frozen." Instead of, "A large enough house," say, "A house large enough." Instead of, "We are travelling slow," say, "We are travelling slowly," Instead of, " It is raining hard," say, " It is raining fast." Instead of saying, " The box fell on the floor," say, " The box fell to the floor." Instead of saying, " He is noways to blame," say, "He is nowise to blame.-' Instead of saying, " He is tall in compari son to her," say, "He is tall in comparison with her." Instead of, "I went for to see him," say, "1 went to see him." Instead of, "He jumped off the platform," say, "He jumped from the platform." Instead of, "A man ot eighty years of age," say, "A man eighty years old." Instead of, "No, thank'ee," say, "No, I thank you." Instead of, "I cannot continue without farther means," say, "I cannot continue without further means." Instead of, "I thought I should have won this game," say, "I thought I should win this game." Instead of, "He has got money," say, "He has money." Instead of, "I have got to be there," say, "I must be there." Instead of "Have you saw?" say, "Have you seen?" Instead of, "I seen him do it," say, "I saw him do it." Instead of, "No other but," say, "No other than." Instead of, "He rose up from his chair," say, "He rose from his chair." Instead of, "I knew it previous to his tell ing me," say, "I knew it previously to his telling me." 49C MANUAL OF PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS. Instead of, "It is equally of the same value," say, "It is of the same value." Instead of, "I could scarcely believe but what," say, "I could scarcely believe but that." Instead of, "You was out when he was here," say, "You were out when he was here." Instead of, "She was a woman notorious for her beauty," say, " She was a woman noted for her beauty." Instead of, "I do so every now and then," say, "I do so occasionally." Instead of, " Nobody else but me," say, "Nobody but me." Instead of, "He fell down from the roof," say, "He fell from the roof." Instead of, " Except I am detained," say, "Unless I am detained." Instead of, "What may, or what might your name be?" say, "What is your name ? " Instead of, "She was a woman celebrated for "her wickedness," say, "She was a woman notorious for her wickedness." Instead of, " I find him in clothes," say, "I provide him with clothes." Instead of, "He stands six foot high," say, "He is six feet high." Instead of, "The two first, the three first, etc.," say, "The first two, the first three, etc." Instead of, " The first of all," " The last of all," say, "The first," " The last." Instead of, "Shay," say "Chaise." Instead of, " The then Government," say, " The Government of that time, period, etc." Instead of, "For ought I know," say, " For aught I know." Instead of, " Before I do that I must first ask leave," say, " Before I do that I must ask leave." Instead of, "I never dance whenever I can help it," say, " I never dance when I can help it." Instead of, " The observation of the rule," say, " The observance of the rule." Instead of, "To get over this trouble," say, " To overcome this trouble." Instead of, " He is a very rising person," say, " He is rising rapidly." Instead of, "I expected to have found you, say, " I expected to find you." Instead of, "I said so over again," say, "I repeated it." Instead of, "Will you enter in?" say, "Will you enter? " Instead of, " Undeniable references," say, " Unexceptionable references." Instead of, " Undispu table proofs," say, " Indisputable proofs." Instead of, " Whatsomever," say, " What, soever." Instead of, " When he was come back," say, " He had come back." Instead of, " Two spoonsful of sugar," say, " Two spoonfuls of sugar." Instead of, " Was you talking just now ? '* say, " Were you talking just now ? " Instead of, " Him and me went together," say, " He and I went together." Instead of, " He has went home," say, " He has gone home." Instead of, "I intend to summons him," say, " I intend to summon him." Instead of, " She is now forsook by her "friends," say, " She is now forsaken by her friends." Instead of, " Who done it? " say, " Who did it ? " Instead of, " Who's got my book ? " say, " Who has my book ? " Instead of, "I have rode ten miles to day," say, "I have ridden ten miles to-day." Instead of, " Set down," say, "Sit down." Instead of, " Have you lit the fire? " say, " Have you lighted the fire ? " Instead of, " I have always gave him ART OF WRITING WELL. 491 good advice," say, " I have always given him good advice." Instead of, "Have you seen the Miss Browns yet ? " say, " Have you seen the Misses Brown yet ? " Instead of, " French is spoke in polite so ciety," say, " French is spoken in polite society." Instead of, " He is now very decrepid." say, " He is now very decrepit" Instead of, " You have drank too much," say, "You have drunk too much." Instead of, " He has broke a window," say, " He has broken a window." Instead of, "Who do you mean?" say, "Whom do you mean ? " Instead of, " It was them who did it," say, " It was they who did it." Instead of, " It is me who am in fault," say, " It is I who am in fault." Instead of, " If I was rich, I would do this," say, " If I were rich, I would do this." Instead of, "It is surprising the fatigue he undergoes," say, " The fatigue he under goes is surprising." Instead of, " He knows little or nothing of the matter," say, " He knows little, if anything, of the matter." Instead of, " He is condemned to be hung," say, " He is condemned to be hanged." Instead of, "We conversed together on the subject," say, "We conversed on the subject." Instead of, " He had sank before we could reach him," say, "He had sunk before we could reach him." Instead of, " His loss shall be long re gretted," say, "His loss will be long re gretted." Instead of, "He speaks distinct," say, "He speaks distinctly." Instead of, "We laid down to sleep," say, " We lay down to sleep." Instead of, "Let it be never so good," say, " Let it be ever so good." Instead of, " He is known through the land,'* say, "He is known throughout the land." Instead of, "I lost near ten dollars," say-. "I lost nearly ten dollars." Instead of, " I am stopping with a friend,"" say, "I am staying with a friend." Instead of, "He was now retired from public life," say, "He had now retired from public life." Instead of, "Who did you inquire for?" say, "For whom did you inquire?" Instead of, "Such another mistake," say, "Another such mistake." Instead of, " He combined together these facts," say, "He combined these facts." Instead of, " He covered it over with earth," say, "He covered it with earth." Instead of, "I acquiesce with you," say, "I acquiesce in your proposal, or in your opinion." Instead of, "He is a distinguished anti quarian," say, "He is a distinguished anti quary." Instead of, " He did it unbeknown to us," say, " He did it unknown to us." Instead of, "I fear I shall discommode you," say, "I fear I will incommode you." Instead of, " I could not forbear from doing it," say, "I could not forbear doing it." Instead of, "He is a man on whom you can confide," say, "He is a man in whom you can confide." Instead of, "I can do it equally as well as he," say, "I can do it as well as he." Instead of, "I am thinking he will soon arrive," say, "I think he will soon arrive." Instead of, "He was obliged to fly the country," say, " He was obliged to flee the country." 492 MANUAL OF PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS. Instead of, "A house to let," say, "A house to be let." Instead of, " Before I do that I must first be paid," say, "Before I do that I must be paid." Instead of, "A couple of dollars," say, "Two dollars." The word couple implies a union of two objects. Instead of, " You are like to be," say, "You are likely to be." Instead of, "All over the land," say, " Over all the land." Instead of, " I shall fall down," say, " I shall fall." Instead of, "Either of the three," say, "Any of the three." Instead of, "They both met," say, "They met." Instead of, " From hence," say, "Hence." Instead of, "From thence," say, "Thence." Instead of, " From here to there," say, " From this place to that" Instead of, "Either of them are," say, "Each of them is." Instead of, "A most perfect work," say, "A perfect work." Instead of, " The other one," or, "Another one," say, "The other," or, "Another." Instead of, "My every hope," say, "All my hopes." Instead of, "For good and all, "say, "For ever. ' Instead of, " He lives at Troy," say, " He lives in Troy." Instead of, "I am coming to your house," say, "I am going to your house." Instead of, "I suspicioned him," say, "I suspected him." Instead of, "They mutually loved each other," say, " They loved each other." Instead of, "Of two evils choose the least," say, " Of two evils choose the less." Instead of, " If I were her, I would do it," say, "If I were she, I would do it" CHAPTER XLIV. The Art of Writing Poetry, with Practical Instructions for Composing Verses. S MOST persons are given, at some period of their lives, to writing po etry, it seems not inappropriate to devote a portion of this work to a few prac tical remarks upon that subject. Poetry is the language of the imagination, the idea generally entertained that it consists in writing of rhymes, and in the proper ar rangement of the verses and words employed, is erroneous. Verses may be arranged with the most precise skill, so that the keenest critic shall be unable to detect a flaw in their construction, and yet may not be po etry. On the other hand, a prose composi tion may be rich in the truest poetry. The words or verses are but the dress in which the thought is clothed. It is the thought, the idea, or the picture painted by the imag ination that is poetry. The famous expres sion of Menon, " Like the sandal-tree, which sheds a perfume on the axe which fells it, we should love our enemies," though written in prose, is poetic in the highest degree. This distinction of the poetic principle should be carefully borne in mind by those who aspire to write verse. The usual form of poetry is verse, and it is most common to adorn it with rhyme. Versification is the art of making verses. The word stanza is frequently used for verse, but improperly so. A verse consists of a single line. A stanza consists of a number of lines regularly adjusted to each other. We may, then, define a verse as a line con sisting of a certain succession of long and 493 short syllables. The half of a verse is called a hemistitch. Two lines or verses constitute a distich, or couplet. The standard by which verse is measured is called metre. This depends on the num ber of the syllables and the position of the accents. One of the most common errors with those who attempt to write poetry is the oversight of proper metre. There is no necessity foi this ; anyone who can count is able to tell the number of syllables in a line. In order to regulate the proper succession oflong and short syllables, verses are divided into certain measures, called feet. This term is applied because the voice, in repeating the lines, steps along, as it were, in a kind of measured pace. This division into feet de pends entirely upon what is called the quan tity of the syllables; that is, whether they are long or short, without reference to the words. Two kinds of verse are used by poets^ rhyme and blank verse. Rhyme is character^ ized bya similarity of sound at the end of cer tain definitely arranged lines. For example : All thoughts, all passions, all .... delights, Whatever stirs this mortal .... frame, Are but the ministers of .... love, And feed his sacred .... flame. What is the baby thinking .... about ? Very wonderful things no .... doubt. Blank verse is a combination of lines that do not rhyme. It was the earliest form of poetry used, and the only form attempted in Europe until the Middle Ages, when the 494 MANUAL OF PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS. minstrels and poet of that period introduced the novelty of rhyme. It is used principally in dramatic compositions, descriptive and heroic poems, and the like. The following from Shakspeare's play of "As you like it," is a fair sample of blank verse : " I have neither the scholar's melancholy, Which is emulation ; nor the musician's, Which is fantastical ; nor the courtier's, Which is pride ; nor the soldier's, which is A.mbition ; nor the lawyers, which is politic ; Nor the lady's, which is nice ; nor the lover's, Which is all of these ; but it is a melancholy Of mine own ; compounded of many simples, Extracted from many objects, and, indeed, The sundry contemplation of my travels ; In which my often rumination wraps me In a most humorous sadness." Accent and Feet. A foot may sometimes consist of a single word, or, again, it may comprise two or three different words, or be composed of parts of different words. In English verse, eight kinds of feet are employed. Four of these are feet of two syllables, and four are feet of three syllables. The feet composed of two syllables are the Trochee, the Iambus, the Spondee, and the Pyrrhic. Those consisting of three syllables are the Dactyle, the Amphibrach, the Ana paest, and the Tribrach. The Trochee is composed of one long and one short syllable ; as, glory. The Iambus consists of one short syllable /ind one long one ; as, betray. The Spondee is composed of two long syllables ; as, high day. The Pyrrhic is composed of two short syl lables ; as on the dry land. The Dactyle is composed of one long syl lable and two short ones; as, holiness, quietly. The Amphibrach is composed of a short, a long, and a short syllable ; as delightful, removal, costumZr. The Anapaest is composed of two short syllables and a long one ; as, contravene, separate. The Tribrach is composed of three short syllables ; as, happiness. The Iambus, the Trochee, the Anapaest, and the Dactyle are most frequently used, and verses may be composed wholly or chief ly of them. The others are termed " second ary feet," because they are used only to vary the harmony of the verse. Divisions of English Verse. English verse is divided into four classes, distinguished by the feet of which each is composed, viz. : the Iambic, the Trochaic, the Anapaestic and the Dactylic. Some writers hold that the Dactylic is not, strictly speaking, a distinct divison, but is nothing more than the Anapaestic with the first two unaccented syllables omitted. " Every species of English verse," says Parker, " regularly terminates with an ac cented syllable ; but every species also ad mits at the end an additional unaccented syllable, producing (if the verse be in rhyme) a double rhyme ; that is a rhyme extending to two syllables, as the rhyme must always commence on the accented syllable. This ad ditional syllable often changes the character of the verse from grave to gay, from serious to jocose ; but it does not affect the measure or rhyme of the preceding part of the verse. A verse thus lengthened is called hyper- meter, or over meter." Specimens of the Various Styles. Different kinds of feet frequently occur in all the different kinds of verse ; but it is not always possible to determine them with ac curacy. The Iambus, the Trochee, the Spondee, and the Pyrrhic are easily recog nizable ; but the Dactyle, the Anapaest, and ART OF WRITING POETRY. 495 the Tribrach are not so readily discrimin ated, as poetic license allows the writer to make the foot in question a Trochee, a Spondee, or a Pyrrhic. The advantage of having a good ear for rhythm is evident; it renders the lines musical. Iambic Terse. Pure Iambic verse is composed of lam- busses alone. The accent is uniformly on the even syllables. We give below speci mens of the various feet used in writing this style of verse : One foot. Two feet. Threefeet. four feet. Five feet. Six feet. Seven feet. I fly On high. We can Beyond not see the sea. The grim | and blood ] y band. With its | relent | less hand. Come now | again | thy woes | impart, Tell all | thy sor | rows, all | thy sin. While to | his arms | the blush | ing bride | he took, To seeming | sad | ness she | composed | her look. The day | is past | ana gone ; | the ev | 'ning shades \ appear. When all | thy mer | cies, O | my God, | my ris | ing soul [ surveys, Transport | ed with | the sight, | I'm lost | in wond | er, love, | and praise. NOTE. This style of verse is rarely written as above in modern poetry, but is divided, into four lines, as follows : When all | thy mer | cies, O | my God, My ris | ing soul | surveys. Transport | ed with | the sight, | I'm lost In wond | er, love, | and praise. (Light feet. Glory | to thee, | my God, | this night, | for all | the bless | ings of | the light: Keep me, | O keep | me, King | of kings, | under | thy own | almight | y wings. This couplet -"^nld generally be written thus : Glory | to thee, | my God, | this night, For all | the bless | ings of | the light : Keep me, | O keep | me, King | of kings, Under | thy own | almight | y wings. Trochaic Verse. In Trochaic verse the accent is uniformly on the odd syllables. One foot. 1 wo feet. Threefeet. Four fee* FivefeeL Shining, Twining. Rich the | treasure, Sweet the I pleasure. Go where | glory | waits thee, Yet when | fame e | lates thee. Stars from | out the | skies are | peeping, Nature | now is | softly | sleeping. Ye that | do des | pise the | lowly | worker. 496 Six feet. Seven feet. MANUAL OF PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS. Farewell, | brethren ! | farewell, | sisters! 1 I am | dying! Once up | on a | midnight | dreary, | while I 1 ponder'd | -wreak and \ weary. Anapaestic Verse. The accent in Anapaestic verse is upon the last syllable. One foot. Two feet. Three feet. Four feet. I ordain, All in vain. Hark ! above, [ the soft dove Sings of love | as we rove. I am mon | arch of all | I survey. At the close | of the day | when the ham | let is still. Dactylic Verse. In Dactylic verse the accent is upon the first syllable of each successive three. One foot. Two feet. Three feel. Four feet. Five feet. Joyfully, Fearfully. Merrily | welcome us, Safe on the | shining sand. Speak to her | tenderly, \ lovingly, Chide her but | gently and | soothingly. Owning her | weakness, her | evil be | havior. Come to me ] beautiful | visions of | happier | days thau this! Other Styles. Pyrrhic. On the tall tree. Spondee. The wide sea. Amphibrach. Delightful, Unequal, Coeval. Tribrach. Numerable, Conquerable. Pauses. In reading poetry, a pause should be made at the end of each line. It should not be too long, but should be sufficient to mark the measure and the end of the line. It is made by a very brief suspension of the voice, without any change in the tone or accent. It is a mistake to read poetry as ^though it were prose, running the lines to gether, and so losing the music, which is one of the greatest charms of verse. Another pause is often required in the body of a verse, for the sake of the sense. This is called The Ccssura^ or The Ccssural Pause. Its position may be generally ascertained bv the grammatical construction of the sentence and the punctuation, as these naturally indi cate where the sense either demands or per mits a pause. In the following lines the place for the caesura is indicated by an asterisk : The Saviour conies* by ancient bards fore told. Exalt thy towering head* and lift thy eyes. Caesar* the world's great master* and his own. Classification of Poetry. English poetry may be classified as follows ; Epic, Dramatic, Lyric, Elegaic, Pastoral and Didactic. An Epic poem is a romantic tale in verse, and embraces many incidents and numerous characters. It is narrative and descriptive in ART OF WRITING POETRY. 497 character, and heroic in style. The of Virgil, The Iliad and Odyssey of Homer, and the Paradise Lost of Milton, are the most notable examples of this style. A Drama is to some extent, epic in char acter, but is so constructed that the tale, in stead of being merely related by the writer, is made to pass, by the action of the char acters or personages of the story, before the eyes of the reader. Every actor in the drama has his representative on the stage, who speaks the language of the poet as if it were his own ; and every action is literally per formed or imitattC as if it were of natural occurrence. In the construction of a drama, rules have been laid down by the critics, the principal of which relate to the three Unities, as they are called, of action, of time, and of place. Unity 01 action requires that a single object should be kept in view. No underplot or sec ondary action is allowable, unless it tend to advance the prominent purpose. Unity of time requires that the events should be limited to a shoi L period, seldom if ever more than a single day. Unity of place requires the confinement ol the actions represented within narrow geographical limits. Another rule of dramatical criticism is termed poetical justice-, by which it is understood that the personages shall be rewarded or punished, according to their respective desert. A regular drama is an historical picture, in which we perceive unity of design, and compare every portion of the composition as harmonizing with the whole. Dramatic poetry includes tragedies, come dies, melodramas, and operas, i Lyric poetry is that style of verse which is written to accompany the lyre or other musi cal instrument. This class of poetry is the most popular, and embraces the songs of the various nations of the world. It includes hymns, odes, atd sonnets. ,>2 An Elegy is a poem of song expressive of sorrow. It is distinct from an epitaph, as the latter is strictly an inscription on a tomb stone. The noblest specimens of this class of poetry are Gray's " Elegy Written in a Country Church-yard " and Tennyson's "In Memoriam." A Pastoral is a tale, song, or drama, sup posed to have been recited, sung, or per formed by shepherds. This form of poetry was very popular in ancient times. Didactic poetry is that which is written for the avowed purpose of conveying a moral. Campbell's "Pleasures of Hope," Thompson's " Seasons," and Pope's "Essay on Man," are poems of this class. The Ode. The ode is the highest of modern lyrical composition. It is written in the loftiest strain, filled with the noblest ideas, and seeks to inspire similar thoughts in the soul of the reader. To this class belong the hymns used in religious worship. The Pczan. The Paean was a song of triumph sung by the ancients in honor of Apollo, on the occasion of a victory, or to the gods as a thanksgiving for the cessation or cure of an evil. The Ballad. The Ballad is the simplest form of descriptive poetry, and is written in a pleasing style, so that it may be easily sung by those who have, little acquaintance with music. The Sonnet. The Sonnet is composed of fourteen lines or verses of equal length. It properly consists of fourteen iambic verses of eleven syllables, and is divided into two chief parts. The first of these is composed of two divisions, each of four lines, called quatrains ; the second of two divisions of three lines each, called terzines. The lines are so con structed that the first eight contain but two rhymes, and the last six but two more. In the first part the first line must rhyme with MANUAL OF PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS. the fourth, fifth, and eighth ; and the second with the third, sixth, and seventh. In the second part the first, third, and fifth are made to rhyme with each other ; and the second with the fourth and sixth. The following will show the construction of the sonnet : First time he kissed me, but he only kissed The fingers of this hand wherewith I write; And, ever since, it grew more clean and white. Slow to world greetings . . quick with its " Oh list ! " When the angels speak. A ring of amethyst I could not wear here, plainer to my sight, Than that first kiss. The second passed in height The first, and sought the forehead, and half missed, Half falling on the hair. O beyond meed ! That was the chrism of love, which love's own crown, With sanctifying sweetness, did precede. The third upon my lips was folded down In perfect, purple state ; since when, indeed, I had been proud, and said, " My love, my own." The Cantata is a composition, or song, of a musical character, containing recitatives and airs, and may be adapted to a single voice, or to many singers. The Canzonet is a short song, containing one, two, or three parts. The Charade. In poetry the charade is a composition, the subject of which is a word of two syllables, each forming a distinct word. These syllables are concealed in an enigmat ical description, first separately, and then together. The charade is always a source of amusement when the idea expressed in language is acted out. The MadigraL This is a short lyric poem, adapted to express happy and pleasing thoughts on the subject of love. It contains not less than four, nor more than sixteen verses of eleven syllables, with shorter verses interspersed, or of verses of eight syllables ir regularly rhymed. The following is a fine example of the madigral : To a Lady of the County of Lancaster, with a Rose. If this fair rose offend thy sight, Placed in thy bosom fair, ' T will blush to find itself less white, And turn L/ancastrian there. But if thy ruby lip it spy, As kiss it thou may'st deign, I With envy pale 'twill lose its dye, And Yorkish turn again. The Epigram. This is a short poem, treating of a single subject, and closing with some ingenious and witty thought, which is rendered interesting by being unexpected. An epigram should be concise. Its point often rests upon a witticism or verbal pun ; but the better class of epigrams are marked by fineness and delicacy rather than by smart ness or repartee. The Impromptu. This is a poem written on the instant, without previous thought or preparation. The Acrostic is a poem in which the ini tial lines of each line, taken in order from the top to the b'ottom, make up a word or phrase, generally a person's name or motto. The following is an example : F riendship, thou'rt false ! I hate thy flattering smile ! R eturn to me those years I spent in vain. I n early youth the victim of thy guile, E ach joy took wing ne'er to return again N e'er to return ; for, chilled by hopes deceived; D ully the slow paced hours now move along , S o changed the time, when, thoughtless, I believed H er honeyed words, and heard her syren song. I f e'er, as me, she lure some youth to stray, P erhaps, before too late, he'll listen to my lay. The Prologue. This is a short poem spoken before the commencement of a dramatic performance, and is designed as an introduction to the play. The Epilogue is a short poem spoken by one of the actors after the close of a dramatic performance, and sometimes recapitulates the incidents of the drama. ART OF WRITING POETRY. 499 The Parody is a ludicrous imitation in verse of some serious subject. The Satire is a poem in which wicked ness and folly are exposed with severity, and are held up to contempt. A satire should be general, not personal. The Lampoon, or Pasquinade, is a personal attack in verse, and deals in abuse and vitu peration rather than in argument. Long 1 and Common Metre, etc. In English psalmody the words Long, Common, Short, and Particular Metre are employed to designate the various styles of psalms and hymns used. When each line of a stanza has eight syllables, it is called Long Metre, When the first and third lines have eight syllables, and the second and fourth have six syllables, it is called Common Metre. When the third line has eight, and the rest have six syllables, it is called Short Metre. Stanzas in Particular Metre are of various kinds, and are not subject to definite rules. Particular Metre is rare, compared with Long, Common and Short. CHAPTER XLV. The Language and Sentiment of Flowers. "HE flower world is linked with all the finer sympathies of our nature. The sweet blossoms that cover the green wood are the delight of our childhood ; a bouquet is the best ornament of girlish beau ty: the meetest offering from young and timid love. Flowers deck the chamber of old age, and are the last sad gift of sorrow to the dead. It was from the East that we obtained a language of perfume and beauty which be stows a meaning on buds and blossoms, though the Turkish and Arabic flower- language does not much resemble ours. It is formed, not by an idea or sentiment orig inating in the flower itself, but by its capa city for rhyming with another word ; that is, the word with which the flower rhymes becomes its signification. La Mottraie, the companion of Charles XII., brought the Eastern language of flowers to Europe ; but it was the gifted I/ady Mary Wortley Montague who first told the English-speaking world how the fair maidens of the East had lent a mute speech to flowers, and could send a letter by a bouquet. Here is part of a Turkish love- letter sent by her in a purse to a friend. She says, speaking of it : " There is no color, no flower, no weed, no fruit, herb, pebble, or feather, that has not a verse belonging to it ; and you may quarrel, reproach, or send let ters of passion, friendship, or civility, or even of news, without even inking your fingers." in the letter the following flowers are em ployed : SOP JONQUIL. Have pity on my passion. ROSE. May you be pleased, and all youi sorrows be mine. A STRAW. Suffer me to be your slave. The European flower-language was utiL. ized, and almost formed, by Aime" Martin ; and the earlier works on the subject were only translations or adaptations from the French: but English writers have a good deal altered and modified it since; and as new flowers come yearly to us from other lands, every fresh vocabulary many contain additional words or sentences, even as our own tongue grows by grafts from other languages. The vocabulary which is given below is believed to be complete in every respect. The Flower-Language. A very interesting correspondence may be main tained by means of bouquets. We give below several examples of this. The message is given and then the names of the flowers needed in the bouquet. i. May maternal 1 ove protect your early youth in inno cence and joy ! Flowers needed. Moss Maternal love. Bearded Crepis Protect. Primroses Early Youth. Daisy .Innocence. Wood Sorrel Joy. 2. Your humility and amiability bave won my lov Flowers needed. Broom Humility. White Jasmine Amiability. Myrtle Love 3- Let the bonds of marriage unite ub. Flowers needed. Blue Convolvulus Bonds. Ivy Marriage. A few whole straws Unite us. THE LANGUAGE AND SENTIMENT OF FLOWERS. 501 A FAREWEU,. Farewell \ give me good wishes. Forget me not. Flowers needed. Sprig of Spruce Fir Farewell. Sweet Basil .....Give me your good wishes. Forget-Me-Not ...Forget me not. 5- Your patriotism, courage, and fidelity merit ever lasting remembrance. Flowers needed. Nasturtium Patriotism. Oak leaves Courage. Heliotrope Fidelity. Everlasting, or Immortelles Everlasting remem brance. 6. A. Red Rose 1 love you- 7- AN IMPERTINENCE. Your insincerity and avarice make me hate you. Flowers needed Cherry Blossom, or Foxglove... /nstncerily. Scarlet Auricula ..Avarice. Turk's Cap Hatred. 8. A WARNING. Beware of deceit. Danger is near. Depart. Flowers needed. Oleander Beware. White Flytrap Deceit. Rhododendron Danger is near. Sweet Pea Depart. 9- A REBUKE. Your frivolity and malevolence will cause you to be forsaken by all. Flowers needed, London Pride Frivolity. Lobelia Malevolence. Laburnum Forsaken. 10. Be assured of my sympathy. May you find conso lation ! Flowers needed. Thrift ....Be assured of my sym pathy. Red Poppy...., Consolation. ii. By foresight you will surmount your difficulties. Flowers needed. Holly Foresight. Mistletoe , You will surmount your difficulties. Modifications of the Flower Language. If a flower be given reversed^ its original signification is understood to be contradicted, and the opposite meaning to be implied. A rosebud divested of its thorns, but re taining its leaves, convey the sentiment, " I fear no longer; I hope; " thorns signify fears and leaves hopes. < Stripped of leaves and thorns, the budf signifies, "There is nothing to hope or fear." The expression of flowers is also varied by changing their positions. Place a marigold on the head, and itsignifies "Mental anguish;" on the bosom, "Indifference." When a flower is given, the pronoun / is understood by bending it to the right hand ; thou, by inclining it to the left. "Yes," is implied by touching the flower given with the lips. " No," by pinching off a petal and cast ing it away. "I am," is expressed by a laurel-leaf twisted round the bouquet. " I have," by an ivy-leaf folded together^ " I offer you,'' by a leaf of the Virginian creeper. THE VOCABULARY. Abecedary Volubility. Abatina Fickleness. Acacia Friendship. Acacia, Rose or White Elegance. Acacia, Yellow Secret love. Acanthus The fine arts. Artifice,, Acalia Temperance. Achillea Millefolia War. Achimenes Cupreata Such worth is rare. Aconite (Wolfsbane) Misanthropy. Aconite, Crowfoot Lustre. Adonis, Flos Sad memories. African Marigold Vulgar minds. Agnus Castus Coldness. Indifference* Agrimony Thankfulness. Grati tude. Almond (Common) Stupidity. Indiscretion, Almond (Flowering) Hope. Almond, Laurel Perfidy. Allspice Compassion. 5O2 MANUAL OF PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS. Aloe , Grief. Religious su perstition. Aithsea Frutex (Syrian Mallow) Persuasion. Alyssum (Sweet) Worth bevond beauty. Amaranth (Globe) Immortality. Unfad ing love. Amaranth (Cockscomb) Foppery. Affectation. \maryllis Pride. Timidity. Spier*- did beauty. Ambrosia Love returned. American Cowslip Divine beauty. American Elm Patriotism. American Linden Matrimony. American Starwort Welcome to a stranger. Cheerfulness in old age. Amethyst Admiration. Andromeda Self -sacrifice. Anemone (Zephyr Flower) Sickness. Expectation. Anemone (Garden) Forsaken. Angelica Inspiration, or magic. Angrec , Royalty. Apricot (Blossom) Doubt. Apple Temptation. Apple (Blossom) ....Preference. Fame speaks him great and good. Appie, Thorn Deceitful charms. Apocynum (Dogsbane) Deceit. Arbor Vitae Unchanging friend ship. Live for me. Arum (Wake Robin) Ardor. Zeal. Ash-leaved Trumpet Flower.... Separation. Ash Mountain Prudence, or With me you are safe. Ash tree Grandeur. Aspen Tree Lamentation, or fear. Aster (China) Variety. Afterthought. Asphodel My regrets follow you to the grave. Auricula Painting. Auricula, Scarlet Avarice. Austurtium Splendor. Azalea Temperance. Bachelor'siButtons ..Celibacy. Balm Sympathy. Balm, Gentle Pleasantry. Balm of Gilead Cure. Relief. Balsam, Red Touch me not. Impa tient resolves. Balsam, Yellow Impatience. Barberry Sharpness of temper. Basil Hatred. Bay Leaf. I chat^e but in death. Bay (R^se) Rhododendron,, ...Danger. Beware. Bay Tree , Glory. Bay Wreath Reward of merit, Bearded Crepis Protection. Beech Tree Prosperity. Bee Orchis Industry. Bee Ophrys Error. Begonia Deformity. Belladonna Silence. Hush! Bell Flower, Pyramidal Constancy. Bell Flower (small white) Gratitude. Belvedere I declare against you Betony Surprise. Bilberry Treachery. Bindweed, Great Insinuation. 7~npor* tunity. Bindweed, Small Humility. Birch Meekness. Birdsfoot, Trefoil Revenge. Bittersweet; Nightshade Truth. Black Poplar.. Courage. Blackthorn Difficulty. Bladder Nut Tree Frivolity. Amusement. Bluebottle (Centaury). Delicacy. Bluebell Constancy. Sorrowful regret. Blue-flowered Greek Valerian..^#/>/r. Bonus Henricus Goodness. Borage Bluntness. Box Tree Stoicism. Bramble Lowliness. Envy. Rt- morse. Branch of Currants You please all. Branch of Thorns Severity. Rigor. Bridal Rose Happy love. Broom Humility. Neatness. Browallia Jamisonii Couldyou bear poverty* Buckbean Calm repose. Bud of White Rose Heart ignorance of love. Buglos, Falsehood. Bulrush Indiscretion. Docility. Bundle of Reeds, with their Panicles Music. Burdock Importunity. Touch me not. Bur Rudeness. You weary me. Buttercup (Kinkcup) Ingratitude. Childish' ness. Butterfly Orchis... Gayety. Butterfly Weed Let me go. Cabbage Profit. Cacalia Adulation. Cactus Warmth. Calla ythiopica Magnificent beauty. THE LANGUAGE AND SENTIMENT OF FLOWERS. Cfciceoiaria / offer you pecuniary assistance, or I offer you my fortune. Calycanthus Benevolence. Camelia Japonica, Red Unpretending excel lence. Camelia Japonica, White Perfected Loveliness. Camomile Energy in adversity. Campanula Pyramida Aspiring. Canary Grass Perseverance. Candytuft Indifference. Canterbury Bell Acknowledgment. Cape Jasmine 1 am too happy. Cardamiue Paternal error. Carnation, Deep Red Alas! for my poor heart. Carnation, Striped Refusal. Carnation, Yellow Disdain. Cardinal Flower Distinction. Catchfly Snare. Catchfly, Red Youthful Love. Catchfly, White Betrayed. Cattleya ... ^.Mature charms. Cattleya Pineli Matronly grace. Cedar Strength. Cedar of Lebanon Incorruptible. Cedar Leaf I live for thee. Celandine (Lesser) Joys to come. Cereus (Creeping) Modest genius. Centaury Delicacy. Champignon Suspicion. Chequered Fritillary Persecution. Cherry Tree, White Good education. Cherry Tree, White Deception. Chestnut Tree Do me justice. Chinese Primrose Lasting love. Chickweed Rendezvous. Chicory Frugality. China Aster Variety. China Aster, Double 1 partake your senti ments. China Aster, Single I will think of it. China or Indian Pink Aversion. China Rose Beauty always new. Chinese Chrysanthemum Cheerfulness under ad versity. Chorozema Variuni You have many lovers. Christmas Rose Relieve my anxiety. Chrysanthemum, Red I love. Chrysanthemum, White Truth. Chrysanthemum, Yellow Slighted love. Cineraria Always delightful. Cinquefoil Maternal affection. Cimea Spell. Cistus, or Rock Rose Popular favor . Cistus, Gum I shall die to-morrow. Citron Ill-natured beauty. Clarkia The variety of your conversation delights me. Clematis Mental beauty. Clematis, Evergreen Poverty. Clianthus Worldliness, Self-seek ing. Clotbur Rudeness. Pertinacity. Cloves Dignity. Clover, Four-leaved Be mine. Clover, Red Industry. Clover, White Think of me. Cobsea Gossip. Cockscomb, Amaranth Foppery. Affectation. Singularity. Colchicum, or Meadow Saffron.My best days are past. Coltsfoot Justice shall be done. Columbine Folly. Columbine, Purple Resolved to win. Columbine, Red Anxious and trem~ bling. Convolvulus o Bonds. Convolvulus, Blue (Minor) Repose. Night. Convolvulus, Major Extinguished hopes. Convolvulus, Pink Worth sustained by ju dicious and tender affection. Corchorus Impatient of absence. Coreopsis Always cheerful. Coreopsis Arkansa Love at first sight. Coriander Hidden worth. Corn Riches. Corn, Broken Quarrel. Corn Straw Agreement. Corn Bottle Delicacy. Corn Cockle Gentility, Cornel Tree Duration. Coronella Success crown your wishes. Costnelia Subra The charm of a blush. Cowslip Pensiveness. Winning grace. Cowslip, American Divine beauty. Crab (Blossom) Ill-nature. Cranberry Cure for heartache, Creeping Cereus Horror. Cress Stability. Power. Crocus Abuse not. Crocus, Spring Youthful gladness. Crocus, Saffron Mirth. Crown , Imperial Majesty. Power. Crowsbill Envy. Crowfoot Ingratitude. 504 MANUAL OF PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS. Crowfoot (Aconite-leaved) Lustre. Cuckoo Plant Ardor. Cudweed, American Unceasing remem brance. Currant Thy frown 7 kill me. Cuscuta Meanness. Cyclamen Diffidence. Cypress Death. Mourning. Daffodil Regard. Dahlia Instability. Daisy Innocence. Daisy, Garden I share your sentiments. Daisy, Michaelmas Farewell, or after thought. Daisy, Party-colored Beauty. Daisy, Wild I will think of it. Damask Rose Brilliant complexion. Dandelion Rustic oracle. Daphne Glory. Immortality. Daphne Odora Painting the lily. Darnel Vice. Dead Leaves Sadness. Deadly Night-shade Falsehood. Dew Plant A serenail?. Dianthus Make haste. Diosma Your simple elegance charms me. Dipteracanthus Spectabilis Fortitude. Diplademia Crassinoda You are too bold. Dittany of Crete Birth. Dittany of Crete, White Passion. Dock Patience. Dodder of Thyme Baseness. Dogsbane Deceit. Falsehood. Dogwood Durability. Dragon Plant Snare. Dragon wort Horror. Dried Flax Utility. Ebony Tree Blackness. Echites Atropurpurea Be warned in time. Eglantine (Sweetbriar) Poetry. I wound heal. Elder Zealousness. Elm Dignity. Enchanters' Night-shade Witchcraft. Sorcery. Endive Frugality. Escholzia Do not refuse me. E u pator i um Delay. Everflowing Candytuft Indifference. Evergreen Clematis Poverty. Evergreen Thorn Solace in adversity. Everlasting Never-ceasing remem brance. Everlasting Pea Lasting pleasure. Fennel Worthy all praise. Strength. Fern Fascination. Magic* Sincerity. Ficoides, Ice Plant Your looks freeze me- Fig c Argument. Fig Marigold lateness. Fig Tree Prolific. Filbert Reconciliation. Fir Time. Fir Tree Elevation. Flax Domestic industry. Flax-leaved Goldenlocks Tardiness. f Fleur-de-lis Flame. I burn. Fleur-de-L,uce Fire. Flowering Fern Reverie. Flowering Reed Confidence in Heaven* Flower-of-an-Hour Delicate beauty. Fly Orchis Error. Flytrap Deceit, Fool's Parsley Silliness. Forget-Me-Not True love. Foxglove Insincerity. Foxtail Grass Sporting. Franciscea Latifolia Beware of false friends* French Honeysuckle Rustic beauty. French Marigold Jealousy. French Willow Bravery and humanity. Frog Ophrys Disgust. Fuller's Teasel Misanthropy Fumitory Spleen. Fuchsia, Scarlet Taste. Furze, or Gorse Love for all seasons. Garden Anemone Forsaken. Garden Chervil Sincerity. Garden Daisy 1 partake your senti* ments. Garden Mari gold Uneasiness. Garden Ranunculus You are rich in altrac* tions. Garden Sage Esteem. Garland of Roses Reward of virtue. Gardenia Refinement. Germander Speedwell Facility. Gera n i uni , Dark Mela ncholy. Geranium , Horse-shoe-leaf Stupidity. Geranium Ivy Bridal favor. Geranium , Lemon Unexpected meeting. Geranium , Nutmeg Expected meeting. Geranium, Oak-leaved True Friendship Geranium, Pencilled Ingenuity. Geranium, Rose-scented Preference. Geranium , Scarlet Comforting. Geranium , Silver-leaved Recall. Geranium, Wild Steadfast Piety. Gillyflower Bonds of affection* Gladioli... Ready armed. THE LANGUAGE AND SENTIMENT OF FLOWERS. 505 Glory Flower Glorious beauty. Goat's Rue Reason. Golden Rod Precaution. Gooseberry Anticipation. Gourd Extent. Bulk. Grammanthus Chloraflora Your temper is too hasty. Grape, Wild Charity. Grass Submission. Utility. Guelder Rose Winter. Age. Hand Flower Tree Warning. Harebell Submission. Grief. Hawkweed Quicksightedness. Hawthorn.. Hope. Hazel Reconciliation. Heartsease, or Pansy Thoughts. Heath Solitude. Helenium Tears. Heliotrope Devotion, or I turn thee. Hellebore Scandal. Calumny. Helmet Flower (Monkshood).. Knight-errantry. Hemlock You will be my death. Hemp Fate. Henbane Imperfection. Hepatica Confidence. Hibiscus Delicate Flower. Holly Foresight. Holly Herb Enchantment. Hollyhock Ambition. Fecundity. Honesty Honesty. Fascination. Honey Flower Love sweet and secret. Honeysuckle Devoted. Affection. Honeysuckle (Coral) The color of my fate. Rr ;ysuckle (French). Rustic beauty. Hop Injustice. Hornbeam Ornament. Horse Chestnut ..Luxury. Hortensia You are cold. Houseleek Vivacity. Domestic In dustry. Houstonia Content. Hoya Sculpture. Hoyabella Contentment. Humble Plant Despondency. Hundred-leaved Rose Dignity of mind. Hyacinth Sport. Game. Play. Hyacinth, Purple Sorrowful. Hyacinth, White Unobtrusive lovliness. Hydrangea A boaster. Hyssop Cleanliness. Iceland Moss Health. Ice Plant Your looks freeze me. Imbricate Uprightness. Senti ments of honro. Imperial Montague Power. Indian Cress Warlike Trophy. Indian Jesmine (Ipomcea) Attachment. Indian Pink (Double) Always Lovely. Indian Plum Privation. Iris Message. Iris, German Flame. Ivy Friendship. Fidelity* Marriage Ivy, Sprig of, with Tendrils Assiduous to please. Jacob's Ladder Come down. Japan Rose Beauty is your only at traction. Jasmine Amiability. Jasmine, Cape Transport of joy. Jasmine, Carolina Separation. Jasmine, Indian I attach myself to you. Jasmine , Spanish Sensuality. Jasmine, Yellow Grace and elegance. Jonquil / desire a return of af fection. Judas Tree Unbelief. Betrayal. Juniper Succor. Protection. Justicia The perfection of female loveliness. Kennedia Mental beauty. King-cups Desire of riches. Laburnum Forsaken. Pe nsive beauty. Lady's Slipper Capricious beauty . Win me and wear me. Lagerstraemia, Indian Eloquence. Lantana Rigor. Lapageria Rosea There is no unalloyed good. Larch Audacity. Boldness. Larkspur Lightness. Levity. Larkspur, Pink Fickleness. Larkspur, Purple Haughtiness. Laurel Glory. Laurel, Common, in flower Perfidy. Laurel, Ground Perseverance. Laurel, Mountain Ambition. Laurel-leaved Magnolia Dign ity. Laurestina A token. Lavender Distrust. Leaves (dead) Melancholy. Lemon Zest. Lemon Blossoms Fidelity in love. , Leschenaultia Splendens You are charming. Lettuce Cold-hear tedness. Lichen Dejection. Solitude. Lilac, Field Humility. Lilac, Purple First emotions of love* 506 MANUAL OF KK.ACTICAL SUGGESTIONS. Lilac, White Youthful innocence. Lily, Day Coquetry. Lily. Imperial ...Majesty. Lily, White Purity. Sweetness. Lily, Yellow Falsehood. Gayety. Lily of the Valley Return of happiness. Unconscious sweet ness. Linden or Lime Trees Conjugal love. Lint I feel my obligations. ive Oak Liberty. ^iverwort Confidence. Liquorice, Wild..., I declare against you. Lobelia Malevolence. Locust Tree Elegance. Locust Tree (Green) Affection beyond the grave. London Pride Frivolity. Lote Tree Concord. Lotus , Eloquence. Lotus Flower. Estranged love. Lotus Leaf. Recantation. Love in a Mist Perplexity. Love lies Bleeding Hopeless, not heartless. Lucern Life. Lupine Voraciousness. Madder Calumny Magnolia Love of nature. Magnolia, Swamp Perseverance. Mallow Mildness Mallow, Marsh Beneficence. Mallow, Syrian Consumed by love. Mallow, Venetian Delicate beauty. Mallow Creeana Will you share my for tunes ? Manchineal Tree Falsehood. Mandrake Horror. Maple Reserve. Marianthus Hope for better days. Marigold Grief. Marigold , African Vuigar Minds. Marigold. French Jealousy. Marigold, Prophetic Prediction. Marigold and Cypress Despair. Marjoram Blushes. Marvel of Peru Timidity. Meadow Lychnis Wit. Meadow Saffron My best days are past. Meadowsweet Uselessness. Mercury Goodness. Mesembryaiithemum Idleness. Mezereon Desire to please. Michaelmas Daisy Afterthought. Mignonette Your qualities surpass vour charms. Milfoil War. Milkvetch Your presence softm* my pains. Milkwort Hermitage. Mimosa (Sensitive Plant) Sensitiveness. Mint Virtue. Mistletoe I surmount difficulties. Mitraria Coccinea Indolence. Dulness. Mock Orange Counterfeit Monarda Amplexicaulis Your whims are quite unbearable. Monkshood A deadly foe is near. Monkshood (Helmet Flower). .Chivalry. Moonwort Forgetfulness. Morning Glory Affectation. Moschatel Weakness. Moss Maternal love. Mosses Ennui Mossy Saxifrage Affection . Motherwort Concealed love. Mountain Ash Prudence. Mournin? Bride Unfortunate a ttach- ment. I have lost all. Mouse-eared Chickweed Ingenuous simplicity. Mouse-eared Scorpion grass Forget me not. Moving Plant Agitation. ' Mudwort Happiness. Tranquil- ity. Mulberry Tree (Black) I shall not survive you. Mulberry Tree (White) Wisdom, . Mushroom Suspicion, or I can't entirely trust you. Musk Plant Weakness. Mustard Seed Indifference. Myrobalan Privation. Myrrh Gladness. Myrtle Love. Narcissus Egotism. Nasturtium Patriotism Nemophila Success everywhere. Nettle, Common Stinging You are spiteful. Nettle, Burning Slander. Nettle Tree Conceit. Night- blooming Cereus Transient beauty. Night Convolvulus Night. Nightshade Falsehood. Oak Leaves Bravery. Oak Tree Hospitality. Oak (White) Independence. Oats The witching soul oj music. Oleander Beware. Olive Peace. Orange Blossoms Your purity equals youl loveliness THE LANGUAGE AND SENTIMENT OF FLOWERS. 507 Orange Flowers Chastity. Bridal fes tivities. Orange Tree Generosity. Orchis A belle. Osier Frankness. Osmunda Dreams. Ox eye Patience. Palm Victory. Pansy Thoughts. (Parsley Festivity. Pasque Flower You have no claims. Passion Flower ..Religious snperstition, When the flower is reversed, or Faith if erect. Patience Dock Patience. Pea. Everlasting An appointed meeting. Lasting pleasure. Pea, Sweet Departure. Peach Your qualities, hke your charms, are unequalled. Peach Blossom I am your captive. Pear Affection. Pear Tree Comfort. Penstemon Azureum High-bred. Pennyroyal Flee away. Peony .., Shame. Bashfulness. Peppermint Warmth of feeling. Periwinkle, Blue Early friendship . Periwinkle, White Pleasures of memory. Persicaria Restoration. Persimmon ...... Bury me amid Na ture's beauties. Peruvian Heliotrope Devotion. Petunia Your presence soothes me. Pheasant's Eye Remembrance. Phlox Unanimity. Pigeon Berry Indifference. Pimpernel Change. Assignation. Pine Pity. Pine-apple You are perfect. Pine, Pitch Philosophy. Pine, Spruce....: Hope in adversity. Pink Boldness. Pink, Carnation Woman's love. Pink, Indian, Double Always lovely. Pink, Indian, Single Aversion. Pink, Mountain Aspiring. Pink, Red, Double Pure and ardent love. Pink, Single Pure love. Pink, Variegated Refusal. Pink. White Ingenious ness. Talent. Plantain White man's footsteps. Plane Tree Genius. Plum, Indian Privation. Plum Tree ...Fidelity. Plum, Wild Independence. Plumbago Larpenta Holy wishes. Polyanthus Pride of riches. Polyanthus, Crimson The heart's mystery. Polyanthus, Lilac Confidence. Pomegranate Foolishness. Pomegranate Flower Mature elegance. Poor Robin Compensation, or its equivalent. Poplar, Black Courage. Poplar, White Time. Poppy, Red .Consolation. Poppy, Scarlet Fantastic extrava gance. Poppy, White Sleep. My bane. Potato Benevolence. Potentilla / claim, at least, your esteem. Prickly Pear Satire. Pride of China Dissension. Primrose Early youth and sad ness. Primrose, Evening Inconstancy. Primrose, Red Unpatronized merit. Privet Prohibition. Purple Clover Provident. Pyrus Japonica Fairies' fire. Quaking-grass Agitation. Quamoclit Busybody. Queen's Rocket You are the queen of coquettes, fashion. Quince Temptation. Ragged-robin Wit. Ranunculus You are radiant with charms. Ranunculus, Garden You are rich in at tractions. Ranunculus, Wild Ingratitude. Raspberry Remorse. Ray Grass Vice. Red Catchfly.... Youthful love. Reed Complaisance. Music. Reed, Split Indiscretion. Rhododendron (Rosebay) Danger. Beware. Rhubarb Advice. Rocket. Rivalry. Rose Love. Rose, Austrian Thou art all that is lovely. Rose, Bridal Happy love. Rose, Burgundy Unconscious beauty. MANUAL OF PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS. Rose, Cabbage Ambassador of love. Rose, Campion Only deserve my love. Rose, Carolina Love is dangerous. Rose, China Beauty always new. Rose, Christmas Tranquillize my anx iety. Rose, Daily Thy smile I aspire to. Rose, Damask Brilliant Complexion. Rose, Deep Red Bashful shame. Rose, Dog Pleasure and Pain. Rose, Guelder Winter. Age. Rose, Hundred-leaved Pride. Rose, Japan Beauty is your only at traction. Rose, Maiden Blush If you love me you will find it out. Rose, Montiflora Grace. Rose Mundi Variety. Rose, Musk Capricious beauty. Rose Musk, Cluster Charming. Rose, Single Simplicity. Rose, Thornless Early attachment. Rose, Unique Call me not beautiful. Rose, White I am worthy of you. Rose, White (withered) Transient impressions. Rose, Yellow Decrease of love. Jeal ousy. Rose, York and Lancaster War. Rose, Full-blown placed over two Buds Secrecy. Rose, White and Red together. Unity. Roses, Crownof. Reward of virtue. Rosebud, Red Pure and lovely. Rosebud, White Girlhood. Rosebud, Moss Confession of love. Rosebud, (Rhododendron) Beware. Danger. Rosemary Remembrance. Rudbackia Justice. Rue Disdain. Rush Docility. Rye Grass Changeable disposition. Saffron Beware of excess. Saffron Crocus Mirth. Saffron, Meadow My happiest days are past. Sage Domestic virtue. Sage, Garden Esteem. Sainfoin Agitation. Saint John's Wort Animosity. Salvia, Blue , Wisdom. jalvia, Red Energy. Saxifrage, Mossy Affection. Scabious Unfortunate love. Scabious, Sweet Widowhood. Scarlet Lychnis. ., , Sunbeaming eyes. Schinus Religious enthusiasm. Scotch Fir. Elevation. Sensitive Plant Sensibility. Senvy Indifference. Shamrock Light-heartedness. Shepherd's Purse I offer you my all. Siphocampylos Resolved to be noticed. Snakesfoot Horror. Snapdragon Presumption, alstl "No." Snowball Bound. Snowdrop Hope. Sorrel Affection. Sorrel, Wild Wit ill-timed. Sorrel, Wood Joy. Southernwood Jest. Bantering. Spanish Jasmine Sensuality. Spearmint Warmth of sentiment. Speedwell Female fidelity. Speedwell, Germander.. Facility. Speedwell, Spiked Semblance. Spider Ophrys..... Adroitness. Spiderwort Esteem, not love. Spiked Willow Herb Pretension. Spindle Tres Your charms are en graven on my heart. Star of Bethlehem Purity. Starwort Afterthought. Starwort, American Cheerfulness in old age. Stephanotis Will you accompany me to the East? Stock Lasting beauty. Stock, Ten Week Promptness. Stonecrop Tranquillity. Straw, Broken Rupture of a contract. Straw, Whole ,. Union. Strawberry Blossoms ..Foresight. Strawberry Tree Esteem, not love. Sultan Lilac I forgive you. Sultan, White Sweetness. Sultan, Yellow Contempt. Sumach, Venice... * Splendor. Sunflower, Dwarf , Adoration. Sunflower, Tall Haughtiness. Swallow-wort Cure for heartache. Sweet Basil Good wishes. Sweetbriar , American Simplicity. Sweetbriar, European I wound to heal. Sweetbriar, Yellow Decrease of love. Sweet Pea Delicate pleasures. Sweet Sultan Felicity. Sweet William Gallantry. Sycamore Curiosity. Syringa Memory. Syringa, Carolina Disappointment. THE LANGUAGE AND SENTIMENT OF FLOWERS. 509 Tamarisk Crime. Tansy (Wild) I declare war against you. Teasel Misanthropy. Tendrils of Climbing Plants....7Yx: general food. Gravel and water trs-.y must have, as they are very quarrelsci'j^ little fellows. If two males are put into one cage they will fight like the Kilkenny cats, or until there is nothing left but their tails. This sltows that male creatures should ue^irr be without re fining female society CARE OF BIRDS AND OTHER PETS. 533 THE JAPANESE ROBIN. This lovely bird is now coming into gen eral favor, as well lie should, for his elegant form and beautiful plumage, which is of many distinct colors. As his name implies he comes to us from Japan. He is a very good songster, and might be called a mocker of birds. Hearing another bird sing he will listen, and apparently record the tune and notes, and, to your suprise, in a day or two he will come out with his new song almost as perfect as the bird he is imitating. He should be fed and treated the same as the mocking bird, and when so treated he will live many years, and sing nine or ten months in the year. THE TROOPIAL,. This very beautiful bird comes to us from South America, where it is tolerably plenti ful, but on account of its great beauty, hearty constitution, and excellence of song, he is such a favorite where known that the market is large for him, and the price, consequently, high. A more lovely pet cannot be gotten from a naturalist than this one. Food and general treatment the same as the mocking bird. THE PARROTS. Now we come to a family of birds which is large and beautiful, with but very few exceptions, and a number of them have the power of learning to talk. As a general thing, however, the most beautiful of them are not what can be called talkers, and in a work of this kind it will bean impossibility to give a description of many of them. The Gray Parrot. This kind comes to us from Africa, and is an ashen-gray color, with the end of the tail red and a black beak, and is one of the best talkers and will whistle like a good fel low, and may be considered one of the best- natured of the Polly family, but in this country he is usually not a hardy bird, espec ially for the first year or or two. The Double Yellow-Head. This is a South American bird ana an equal in every respect to the gray parrot above described, and much hardier in this climate, and if one wing is clipped and the bird allowed to run around the house, plac ing a perch on a stand, which the bird wi?.l get onto whenever it is going to drop, keep ing it in a clean and healthy condition, and. never soiling the carpet or anything else. Cuban Parrot. This is the general favorite on account of its aptness in learning almost anything it hears and the low price at which it sells. It readily learns to sing, whistle, and say a great many words and sentences, and per forms a great many amusing tricks, such as hanging by one and then by two feet, and then by the bill alone to a perch, turning over and over on the perch, flapping his wings, at the same time yelling like a Com- anche Indian. One three years old owned by the writet will talk and act as follows: Keep your weather-eye open, he, hi, ho ; your other eye to the wind and Cuty will get hurt ; up, up, oh, 'tis so nice ; Nellie, oh, 'tis so nice; hur rah, oh hurrah, boys ; rats, rats, shut up, what you doing ; kiss Nellie ; stick a feather in your nose ; oh, it hurts ; which it learned from having the caked food removed from its nostrils by the use of the stem end of a/ feather; and to the dog: Oh, Prince, kiss Nellie, kiss Nellie ; for all that is good, kiss Nellie. He will run after a cat or bird, yeL ling ketch the catee, or ketch the doggee, at every few steps ; will sing when told to do so, and when done singing will say that is the way to do it, and laugh like a lady a 534 MANUAL OF PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS. the very idea of singing and talking, and it is as much opposed to profanity as a sincere church deacon. When it hears an oath or profane expres sion it will say, " Ah, ah," and walk back Wards as quick as it can to get away. And I am sorry to say that many of our profess ing Christian brethren would be put to ;hame by the true Christian spirit shown by the beautiful bird called a Parrot when pro perly trained. The Blue Front Amazon. This is a very fine bird, and will make a good pet, but not much of a talker in the English or German language, but in Spanish it will excel most other birds, both in sing ing and talking. The Bed Front Parrot is a South American bird, very hardy, and a very good cheap bivd and amusing pet The Shell Parakeet. This beautiful bird conies to us from Australia, and are often called love birds, their habits resembling the true love bird so much in the affection they show for each other. That and their beautiful plumage and form of the bird makes it a great favorite. Their food should be rape and canary, and in addition some fruit, a little maw seed once a week ; gravel and water the same as all other birds must be given to them. There are a great variety of Parakeets, and all should be treated the same way. A few of them can be taught to say words, but none of them make good talkers. The Jjoreys are the handsomest of the Parrot family, but few of them talk, and none excel in talking. Treat them the same as the Parakeets. They will whistle and sing and perform all kinds of amusing tricks, and have often been taught to waltz to music of the violin and piano. They are tolerably hardy, and if kept in health will live long in confinement. The Cockatoos are a very handsome branch of the Parrot family, and all are very handsomely crested, birds, but not good talkers, but very apt at learning other things, and become very tame and playful, it being very amusing to watch them playing with a stick, taking it in their bills and reaching with onefoot for it, then rolling over on their back, and screaming, while they toss the stick about in their claws. If you have one of these beautiful birds feed it on canary, hemp and sunflower, and wild rice. The seed should be placed where the bird can always get it, but crackers and coffee, or tea with sugar and milk in it ought to be given ; plenty of gravel and water and some fruit is about all that is required to keep your bird in health. The Macaws are very long and beautiful birds, but should not be kept in a cage, as they are apt to get their beautiful long tail soiled, which mars the splendid appearance of the bird. The aviary is the proper place foi this bird, in which his lovely plumage is shown to ad vantage. When taken young they can be taught to speak well, but when old they rarely accomplish much in talking. Their food should be wild rice, oats, corn, crackers, and plenty of fruit, such as mel low apples, bananas, pairs, etc., which they are very fond of, and is necessary to keep the bird in health. The entire Parrot family is very long lived, it being a recorded fact that they live ninety years in confinement, but the aver age of a healthy, well-kept bird is twenty- five years. CARE OF BIRDS AND OTHER PETS. 535 Teaching- to Talk. A parrot will pick up very readily from any one it hears talking, but, like a child, it is apt to learn what is not desirable, but this can be overcome by the owner of the ,pet taking it into a room that is quiet for naif an hour twice a day, and teaching by "* repeating to it in the same tone of voice three or four words day after day until learned, always using the same words. It will soon commence to answer, and make use of other words that it has heard cas ually spoken, and if such words are not de- sited, they should be frowned on at once, and the bird scolded. If he is encouraged or laughed at, and he repeats the objection - abe words several times, it will be hard to break him of saying them in future. Never feed parrots meat. If lean it will leat the blood, and cause the bird to pull out its feathers ; if fat meat is given it will give the bird the diarrhoea, as in their nat ural state they live altogether on fruit, seeds, roots and nuts. PIGEONS. Most boys love to have pets outside the house, and many prefer the Pigeon to any other. The first thing to be done when you desire to have Pigeons is to prepare a roost or cot, which may be made in any barn, shed, or outhouse, or a large box may be put up sufficiently high to prevent cats or other animals from getting to it. Pigeons must be fed and confined to their cots till they have young, or they will be apt to find other quarters which they may prefer. Then choose your Pigeons, if common ones, which are the best in cities, as they are less liable to be decoyed away, and as they can be had for from forty to fifty cents a pair. A pair of fancy ones will cost you all the way from one t twenty dollars. Beautiful Varieties. There are very many beautiful breeds of Pigeons. The Blue Rock Dove is a very handsome bird ; also the Pouter, which has the power of inflating its chest to such an extent that they appear to be double the size of the original bird, this quality being greatly admired by boys ; the Carrier, on account of its homely head, but good birds to raise ycung, and as they are used for carrying messages are very amusing ; but the Tumbler is the boys' delight as he usually flies high and comes tumbling over and over in the air down to his cot. The Fantails are very beau tiful, having many of the characteristics of the peacock. It is really the proudest and prettiest of the Pigeon family. The Trumpeter is an old and very nice bird, making a noise like a trumpet as he brings his wings to the ground, and should be kept by every one laying claim to keeping a collection. Pigeon? very seldom lav more than two eggs, and rhe period of incubation is eigh teen days. Both tne male and female assist in the hatching and feeding the young. When first hatched the young feed for about ten days from a food disgorged from the crop of its parents, and after with grain carried in the crop of the old birds. Pigeons and Doves differ from most birds in their mode of feeding their young, and the observation of this will be very interesting to boys, the young thrusting their bill into the open bill of the old Dove, and the food is actually pumped from the old bird's crop iiito the young bird's. CHICKENS. These are also the boys' delight Like the pigeon fowl have all descended from the one source or specimen, the wild Jungle Fowl of India, a great number of varieties of them existing in the domesticated state, amongst 536 MANUAL OF PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS. the best known are the Spanish, the Polish, the Brainas, the Cochins, the Hou- dans, the Game, the Bantams, the Malay, the Sikey, the Hamburgs, the Dorkins, and too many other kinds to mentivn. Chickens re quire grain, vegetables, meat, water and gravel, when in confinement, bnt when al- iowed to run at large they get along nicely when given some grain alone, but in dry weather they should have a good supply of clean water at their roosting-place. Boxes should be placed up from the floor of the lien-house and straw placed in them for nests, and a decoy egg, which should be made of opal glass or china, put in each nest, and the hens will be much more apt to lay in them than elsewhere, and thereby save you the trouble of going under the house or barn to hunt for eggs. Breeding 1 . When a hen has laid from fifteen to twen ty eggs she will usually show a desire to set ; then if from ten to fourteen eggs are placed under her, which should be from different hens, especially if it is summer-time, so as to make sure of their being fresh, a larger number will hatch out, and in three weeks from the time she commences to set the young should be hatched out, and lovely little balls of down they will be. Crumbled bread soaked in milk and hard-boiled yolk of egg must be in readiness for them to eat, for in a few hours after they are hatched the'< will begin to pick for themselves. They rery little trouble to keep, and raise luemselves if kept out of the way of rats ; the old hen will generally keep cats and dogs from them. Bird Seed. There are but few persons who consider how much their birds' health depends upon the quality of the seed given to the bird. They think because it is bird-seed it must be all right. What would you think of a house wife that would go and bin- a barrel of poor, musty flour to make bread for her children, because it was got nearer home, at the corner grocery, or it cost a few cents less? This holds good in bird-seed, only to a greater ex tent, and there is even still more danger if you buy the seed done up in fancy packages, which is generally the poorest that can be had in the market. Go to any bird store with a regular established trade, and you can rely upon getting good seed. GENERAL DISEASES OF BIRDS ANI> THE PROPER REMEDIES THEREFOR. Asthma. This is a disease that all birds are liable to,. but the German Canaries more so than any- other. It is generally caused from a cold neglected, and sometimes from improper food. Hemp seed should not be given to- the German Imported Canaries, except when breeding, and then fed plenty of hard-boiled egg witTi their other food, they will be better- without it. When the bird is attacked with this disease he must be kept on low diet, such as cracker soaked in milk. Rape and maw seed, also a little lettuce r will be good for him ; a little bird tonic in his drinking water, and hang a piece of fat pork well rubbed into pure red pepper in the cage for him to bite on when he desires. When taken in time it can be cured, but when once a bird has had it he will be very liable to get it again. Want of Appetite. When this occurs give your bird a small piece of garden sod, so that he can pick the earth and grass both, and any other delicacy that can be thought of, even if it be a little sweet cake. CARK OF BIRDS AND OTHKR PETS. 537 The Oil Gland. This is a small round lump on the back of the bird, and above the tail, and its use is to supply the bird with the oil necessary to plume its feathers. When this becomes ob structed, as it will sometimes, it gets gorged with oil, and causes the bird much suffering. The bird will appear to be puffed and un easy, and every once in a while be seen pick ing at it. Take the bird gently but firmly and pass the point of a fine needle into it in two or three places, and annoint it with a little butter to prevent the perforations from scabbing over, and the bird will do the rest itself. Moulting:. This is an annual occurrence with birds, and if the feathers come off freely aR that is required is to keep the bird warm and out of drafts, which may be easily done, as the usual time for birds to moult is August and Sep tember. It is good to give your bird an ex tra quantity of nourishing food at this period, as the new feathers which take the place of the old ones cause a great strain on the sys tem of the bird. When the bird does not cast its feathers freely, a small quantity of saffron put into the drinking water, will generally afford relief. Keep the bird warm, covering the cage at night, and hang it in the sun in day, watch for diarrhoea at this time as it is very liable to occur. Dysentery. This is often a fatal disease with all birds. The bird affected with it voids a white milky matter, which causes a great deal of pain and inflammation of the intestines, but is gener ally easily cured, if it is attended to in its early stages, but if allowed to run for twenty- four hours the case is generally hopeless. As soon as detected, which may easily be done, for the bird will generally show a disposition to sit still with its head resting on its wing, this is a notification that your bird feels bad. Look in the bottom of the cage, if the droppings of the bird are white and thin like chalk and water, he has the diarrhoea. Now put some red pepper into his food, a piece of very rusty iron into his water, and cover the cage up. Set it in a warm place. If the droppings are not thicker in about four hours, add eight or ten drops of brandy, which has laid on blackberries for some time and do not remove the iron. Cover again as before. If seed-eating birds, remove any hemp-seed that may be in the cage and give a little maw-seed in its place with other seed. If soft-feed bird, give more pure mocking bird food and less vegetable matter, and during the attack no vegetable or fruit should be given to any bird. Broken Limbs. When this misfortune is met with the limb must be put into the natural position as nearly as possible, and then secured by splints, or otherwise placed in a low cage without perches, with straw on the bottom, to keep the plumage of the bird from getting soiled ; food and water placed in convenient reach of it, and the cage covered up and put in a quiet place, it will usually be as well as ever in a week or ten days. Constipation. This is of common occurrence with seed- eating birds. The remedies are vegetable matter, such as lettuce, grass, etc., and in urgent cases a few drops of castor oil should be given, which may readily be done by holding the bird in the left hand, and with a stick brought to a point the oil can be run down its throat. Be careful not to get it on the bird's plumage, and a dose is from three to eight drops, according to the size of the bird. 538 MANUAL OF PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS. Egg- Bound is a frequent occurrence with young birds, and they will brood upon an empty nest. The remedy is to annoint the vent of the bird with a little sweet oil, and to administer a dose of castor oil through the bill. Handle gently, for if you break the egg it will likely be the end of all. Sneezing. aally caused by cold, and may be re- FISH GLOBES. lieved by passing a small straw through the nostrils of the bird. Keep the bird out of drafts and keep it warm. Hiiskiness and L,oss of Voice. Usually caused from cold. Never purchase a husky bird, but when he gets so you will have to do the best you can for him, his voice is often restored ; but if he lives long he is almost sure to lose it again. Keep the bird in a warm place, give it, if a seed-eating biro., flaxseed and ripe plantain, crackers and milk with a little red pepper on it, and sweet cake with a little sherry wine on it, and a piece oi fat pork smoked and rubbed well in red pepper, should be hung in the cage, and a few drops of good tonic should be put into the drinking water. Long- Claws and *5eak. Though not diseases, they will oring them on, when the beak is too long. It prevents the bird from getting its food. When the claws are too long it prevents the bird, through fear of hanging, from getting on or off its perches. This is easily remedied, all that is required is to hold the bird firmly and place its foot on a block ; with a sharp knife cut off the surplus growth of the nail, being careful not to cut into the quick, which runs about one-fourth of an inch into the nail from the toe. The surplus beak may be re moved in the same way. The Scab cometimes makes its appearance about the head and eyes of a bird, and often there is a small ulcer. When so, it should be removed "with a sharp knife and the place anointed with fresh butter or sweet oil, and fresh ^nourishing food, including fruit and veget- * ables should be given. Fits or Epilepsy or fits ofdizziness. Birds attacked with this fall from their perches and struggle. The best remedy is to souse them into a bucket of cold water quickly and place the bird gently down. He will most probably soon recover. When he does put him where he will get perfectly dry, and put a little sherry wine and spirts of nitre in his drinking water to prevent its return, and, in addition, give it more nourishing food. Soon he will appear like a new bird. CARE OF AND OTHER PETS. 531* Cancer. Sometimes this makes itself felt to tlie grief of the canary breeder, as it is conta gious, and before it is known what is the matter several birds are affected with it. It is best to destroy a bird so affected. A cure is sometimes effected by bathing the parts frequently with warm water and milk, and anointing with olive oil or butter. Vermin sometimes come to birds, but may be easily destroyed, if of the body kind, by anointing th bird under the wings with lard, and placing a clean cloth over the cage at night for a week or ten days. But the red mites are the plague of all bird-fan ciers, their habits being the same as the house or bedbug, which trouble all dirty house keepers. They live in the crev ices of the cage, and come out only at night to feed and an noy the bird. They breed so fast that the supply continually increases as long as their food lasts, and their food is the blood of the bird ; the only true rem edy is to detach the perch that the bird sleeps on from the rest of the cage. As this cannot be done we have now to do the next best thing, and that is to obstruct the passage from the cage to the bird by the use of insecticide. This may easily be done by putting a piece of felt or cloth secured to the ends of the perches by wrapping with wire and saturating it with lard and kerosene oil twice a week. THE PERC1I. The suspended bird perch, whicK can be bought at bird stores, is a great ornament to a cage ; it is really a set of perches or eight AQUARIUM. small arms secured to a centre spindle, and hung by a spring from the hook that the swing is usually secured to. In the centre of 540 MANUAL OF PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS. the coiled spring is a piece of felt which, when saturated with kerosene oil, forms a sure barrier against their getting to the bird, so the bird getting rested at night is in better condition and spirits and more in the humor for singing next day. GRAVEL must be given to all birds, and if it is spread freely upon the bottom of the cage so much the better. WATER. Above everything do not give the bird stale water to drink unless you desire it to die ; and if that is your desire you had best kill it, to save it the suffering it will have to endure by being compelled to use impure or rotten water. AQUARIA. Gold and Silver fish have been known in this country since the days of Washington. They abound in the fresh, clear waters of China, and are now quite common in cur artificial ponds, lakes in parks, etc. ; and who has not seen them in glass globes and tanks in the dining-room and parlors of the most refined and better class of citizens, the man agement and care being so little that it is a surprise that a fish globe is not to be found in every house in the land. The most indo lent lady can attend to a fish globe with pleasure. Globes for fish are best set on a stand, and can be placed on the table, mantel or bracket. Chains are very often used, but should not be. Fish should be kept in a cool place, and the sun never allowed to shine on a globe containing fish or on a tank except in winter time, and then not on all the tank and only for a short time. Globes should not be more than three-fourths filled with water. The water should be partially changed twice a week, and before filling the globe cover the bottom of it with clean gravel. FOOD. Fish do not require much fooa, but food they must have. There is a prepared food kept at all aquaria goods stores, which is gen erally good, but fish will do well on a little sweet cracker or bread crumbled into the water, but it must be given in small quanti ties, for if not eaten it sours in the water, and is injurious to the fish. Earth worms are the very best of food, and can be kept ai winter if put into a box of moist earth, which must be kept moist and out of the way of frost. The worms should be cut into small pieces before being given to the fish. More amusement can be had from the in vestment of two or three dollars in a globe and fish than in a hundred dollars in theatre tickets, and it will be an interesting orna ment to any room, whether poorly or ele gantly furnished. The gold, silver and pearl fish are certainly gems, and there are hun dreds of others that you can choose at any aquaria goods store, and if the reader be a man or lad, there are many beautiful fish in our own creeks that, with a small net, can be had for the catching of them. Diseases of fish are not many, but if you have many fish in one tank, and you see one sick, which can be easily told by the dull appearance of the fish and his coming to the top of the water to get air, remove it from the tank and place it in a large dish or small tank, and if it does not get better in a day or two it is best to destroy it, as it will not be worth the trouble of trying to cure. RABBITS. This is another favorite with the boys, and the common Rabbit is the one most often met with, but the Rabbit is not by any means neglected. There are many kinds of fancy Rabbits, viz. : The Perfect lop-eared, the Oar lop-eared, the Horn Rabbit, the Angora CARE OF BIRDS AND OTHER PETS. 54i Rabbit, and the Maltese Rabbit, all of which are very odd- looking, but none as handsome as the pure white with pink eyes. Rabbits are very prolific, usually having eight or ten young four times a year ; they are amusing and profitable pets, as the young may readily be sold, are easily kept, living upon grass, iiay, vegetables, fruit, such as apple parrings, scraps of bread, or any vegetable matter that is not decayed. The young should not be taken from their parents until they are six weeks old. DOGS. There being so many different kinds of these kind, affectionate and serviceable ani mals, a general description of them cannot be given. A puppy under six months old should never have meat given to it, and until a year old no raw meat should be given. Young puppies, bread and milk alone, (which would be go'xi food for some puppies in hu man form), when older, bread and milk varied with soup and bread, and then some cooked meat, and they must have a good warm bed in a dry place. When so fed and kept they can be generally raised without having the distemper or other sickness. WHITE MICE. Another children's pet, which are very pretty, with their lovely pink eyes. They can be trained to do many amusing tricks, and are very tame and hardy ; will live upon anything a person can, but corn-meal is their favorite. They are very prolific, having *young from four to six times a year, and trom five to twelve each time. WHITE BATS come to us from China, and are very similar to white mice. When kept clean they rnake very nice pets. Can be fed on most any refuse from the table, but in addition must 1 have fresh meat twice a week. They are even more prolific than the mice, having usually from eight to fourteen at a litter. The young are very pretty after they are two weeks old; before that time they have no hair on their bodies, the head being as large as the rest of the body, eyes not open. CATS AND MONKEYS are pets for the ladies, and as there is such a variety of them, and so few of the latter kept, a description in a work of this kind would be superfluous. If you want a Monkey go to a store of a naturalist and make your selection. If he has not got the kind you want he can show you the pictures and de scription of so many that it will not be any easier for you to make your selection than than to buy a calico dress when the obliging dry-goods clerk has shown you over one hundred pieces, but after you have made up your mind and give the order for him to get you one, do not go back the next day to try to obtain another kind that you think you might like better, for if he is a prompt and reliable man he will have already sent his order off, and even if you do not hear him, he is very apt to swear at the fickle-minded- ness of some people. Most ladies would call them ugly, but mice and rabbits are born without hair on their skin, so why make all this fuss about Rats? CHAPTER XLVIII. Encyclopedia of Valuable Information. ONEY is first mentioned as a medium of commerce in the twenty-third chapter of Genesis, when Abraham purchased a field as a sepulcher for Sarah, in the year of the world 2139; first made at Argos, 894 before Christ. Silver has increased 30 times its value since the Nor man conquest, viz. : a pound in that age was three times the quantity what it is at present, and ten times its value in purchasing any commodity ; first coined in the United States, 1652; first paper Money, 1690. Foundations of Fortunes. Senator Farwell began 1 ife as a surveyoi Cornelius Vanderbilt began life as a farmer. Wanamaker's first salary was $1.25 a week. A. T. Stewart made his start as a school-teacher. Jim Keene drove a milk-wagon in a California town. Cyrus Field began life as a clerk in a New England store. Pulitzer oncv acted as stoker on a Mississippi steamboat. Moses Taylor clerked in Water street, New York, at $2 a week. Geo W. Childs was an errand boy for a bookseller at $4 a month. P. T. Barnum earned a salary as bartender in Niblo's Theatre, New York. Jay Gould canvassed Delaware County, New York, selling maps at $1.50 apiece. Andrew Carnegie did his first work in a Pittsburgh telegraph office at $3 a week. Whitelaw Reid did work as correspondent of a Cin cinnati newspaper for $5 a week. Adam Forepaugh was a butcher in Philadelphia when he decided to go into the show business. Senator Brown made his first money by plowing his neighbor's fields with a pair of bull calves. A Business Lesson. Peter Cooper was one of the most successful, care ful, and prudent business men of his time. He was strongly opposed to the methods of many merchants who launched out into extravagant enterprises on borrowed money, for which they paid exorbitant rate of interest. The following anecdote illustrates this point very forcibly : Once, while talking about a project with an acquaint ance, the latter said he would have to borrow the 542 money for six months, paying interest at the rate or j. per cent, per month. "Why do you borrow for so short a time?" Mr* Cooper asked. "Because the brokers will not negotiate bills for longer." " Well, if you wish," said Mr. Cooper, " I 'vill di count your note at that rate for three years." "Are you in earnest?" asked the would-be bor rower. " Certainly, I am. I will discount your note foi $10,000 for three years at that rate. Will you do it? " " Of course I will," said the merchant. " Very well," said Mr. Cooper ; "just sign this note for $10,000 payable in three years, and give your check for $800, and the transaction will be complete." " But where is the money for me ? " asked the aston ished merchant. " You don't get any money," was the reply. " Your interest for thirty-six months at three per centum pe* month amounts to 108 per centum, or $ 10,800 , there fore your check for $800 just makes us even." The force of this practical illustration of the folly of paying such an exorbitant price for the use of money was such that the merchant determined nevei to bor row at such ruinous rates, and he frequently used to say that nothing could have so fully convinced him ag this rather humorous proposal by Mr. Cooper. Avoid Debt. Every man who would get on in the world should, as far as possible, avoid debt. From the very outset of his career he should resolve to live within his income, however paltry it may be. The art of living easily as to money is very simple pitch, your scale of living one degree below your means. All the world's wisdom on the subject is most tersely epitomized in the words of Dicken's Micawber: ''Annual income, twenty pounds; annual expendi ture, nineteen six ; result, happiness. Annual incomCi twenty pounds; annual expenditure, twenty pounds naught and six ; result, misery." Many a IT j an dates his downfall from the day when he began borrowing mcney. Avoid the first obligation, for, that incurred, others follow, one necessitating the other ; every day the victim will get more entangled ; then follow pre texts, excuses, lies, till all sense of shame is lost,, the whole life becomes a makeshift, and the debtoi IMPORTANT FACTS FOR REFERENCE. 543 in despair finally resolves to live by indirect robbery and falsehood. Getting- Rich by Small Inventions. The New Jersey man who hit upon the idea of attach ing a rubber erasing tip to the end of the lead pencil is worth $200,000. The miner who invented a metal rivet or eyelet at each end of the mouth of coat and trowsers pockets, to icsist the strain caused by the carriage of pieces of Ore and heavy tools, has made more money from his tetters patent than he would have made had he struck a good vein of gold-bearing quartz. Bvery one has seen the metal plates that are used to protect the heels and soles of rough shoes, but every one doesn 't know that within ten years the man who hit tipon the idea has made 1250,000. As large a sum as was ever obtained for any inven tion was enjoyed by the Yankee who invented the invented glass bell to hang over gas-jets to protect ceilings from being blackened by smoke. The inventor of the roller skate has made $1,000,000, notwithstanding the fact that his patent had nearly ex pired before the value of it was ascertained in the craze for roller skating that spread over the country a few years ago. The gimlet-pointed screw has produced more wealth than most silver mines, and the Connecticut man who first thought of putting copper tips on the toes of children's shoes is as well off as if he had inherited $1,000,000, for that's the amount his idea has realized for htm. The common needle threader which every one has seen for sale, and which every woman owns, was a boon to needle users. The man who invented it has an income of $10,000 a year from his invention. A minister in England made $50,000 by inventing an odd toy that danced by winding it with a string. The man who invented the return ball, an ordinary wooden ball with a rubber string attached to pull it back, made $1,000,000 from it. Results of Saving- Small Amounts of Money. The following shows how easy it is to accumulate a fortune, provided proper steps are taken. The table shows what would be the result at the end of fifty years by saving a certain amount each day and putting it at interest at the rate of six per cent.: Daily Savings. The result. One cent $ 950 Ten cents 9*504 Twenty cents 19,006 Thirty cents 28,512 Forty cents 38,015 Fifty cents 47,520 Daily Savings. The result. Sixty cents $57,024 Seventy cents 66,528 Eighty cents 76,032 Ninety cents 85,537 One dollar 95,041 Five dollars 475,208 ciple of small savings has been lost sight of in th* general desire to become wealthy. What a Dollar Saved Each Day Will Earn. One dollar per day saved in the cost of fuel amounts, with interest, on basis of 312 working days in a yeat to following : Six Eight Per Cent. Per Cent. $330 72 $336 96 1,864 20 4,359 14 7,697 82 Four Per Cent One Year $32448 Five Years 1,757 5 Tea Years Fifteen Years. Ten, 3895 76 6,479 2 4 1,97680 4,881 40 9,149 18 I5,4i9 94 $343 ?o 2,095 26 5-469 75 10,904 $c 19,656 ?S Nearly every person wastes enough in twenty or thirty years, which, if saved and carefully invested, would make a family quite independent ; but the priu- Twenty Years.. 9,662 39 12,165 7 2 Value of Metals. Fully ninety-nine persons in every hundred, if asked to name the most precious metals, would mention gold as first, platinum as second, silver as third. If asked to name others a few might add nickel, and a very few aluminum to the list. Let us see how near the truth they would be. Gold is worth about $240 per pound, troy ; platinum $130, and silver about $12. Nickel would be quoted atabout 60 cents and pure aluminum $8 to $9 to the troy pound. We will now compare these prices with those of the rarer and less well known of the metals. To take them in alphabetical order, barium sells for $975 a pound, when it is sold at all, and calcium is worth $1,800 a pound, while cerium is a shade higher its cost is $160 an ounce, or $1,920 a pound. Chromium brings $200 ; cobalt falls to about half the price of silver, while didymium is the same price as cerium, and cerium $10 cheaper on the ounce than calcium, or just $1,680 per pound. If the wealth of the Vanderbilts be not overestimat ed, it amounts to nearly $200,000,000. With this sum they could purchase 312 tons of gold and have some thing left over, but they couldn't buy two tons of gal lium, that rare metal being worth $4,250 an ounce. With this metal the highest price is reached, and it may well be called the rarest and most precious of metals. Glucinum is worth $250 per ounce ; indium, $158; irinium, $658 per pound ; lanthanium, $175, and lin- thium, $160 per ounce. Niobium costs$i28perounce; asmium, paladium, platinum, potassium and rhodium bring respectively, $640, $400, $39, $32 and $512 pet pound. Strontium costs $128 an ounce ; tantium, $144 ; tellurium, $9 ; athorium, $272 ; vanadium, $320; vitrium, $144, and ziconium, $250 an ounce. Barium is more than four times as valuable as gold, and gallium more than 162 times as costly, while many of the metals are twice and thrice as valuable. Aluminum, which now costs $8 to $9 a pound, will eventually be produced as cheap as steel. When thte can be done it will push the latter metal out of a 544 ENCYCLOPEDIA OF VALUABLE INFORMATION. many of its present uses, as it possesses great strength, toughness and elasticity, with extreme lightness of weight. Its sources of supply are inexhaustible, and its present high cost arises from the difficulty of its extraction in a metallic form. Iridium seems to be chiefly used for pointing gold pens, and many of the metals mentioned have but a united sphere of usefulness. Value of a Bar of Iron for Various Purposes. A bar of iron worth five dollars, worked inio horse shoes, is worth ten dollars and fifty cents ; made into needles, it is worth three hundred and fifty-five dollars ; made into penknife-blades, it is worth three thousand two hundred and eighty-five dollars ; made into bal- auce-springs of watches, it is worth two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Great Mines. The most extensive mines in the world are those of Freyburg, Saxony. They were begun in the twelfth century, and in 1835 the galleries, taken collectively, =aad reached the unprecedented length of 123 miles. A new gallery, begun in 1838, had reached a length of "eight miles at the time of the census of 1878. The deepest perpendicular mining shaft in the world |S located at Prizilram, Bohemia. It is a lead mine ; it was begun in 1832. In January, 1880, it was 3,280 feet deep. The deepest coal mine in the world is near Tourney, Belgium ; it is 3,542 feet in depth, but, unlike the lead -mine mentioned above, it is not perpendicular. The deepest rock salt bore in the world is near Ber lin, Prussia ; it is 4,185 feet deep. The deepest hole ever bored into the earth is the ar tesian well at Pottsdam, which is 5,500 feet deep. The deepest coal mines in England are the Dunkirk collieries of Lancashire, which are 2,824 feet in depth. Mining in the United States. The last Census report shows that the total value of the mineral products of the United States amounted to 1556,988,450, the greatest total ever reported for any country. It far outstrips the product of Great Britain. The total number of industi ial mining establishments is given at 30,000. The number of persons who find employment in mining industry is 512,114. The annual wages paid them aggregated $212,409,809. The capital employed in actual mining operations amounts +.0 $1,173,000,000. Greatest On Earth. A block of coal exhibited at the Iowa State Fair is thought to be the largest ever mined ; it weighed J,ooo pounds. Queen Victoria has ';he largest bound book ever made. It is eighteen inches thick and weighs sixty- three pounds. It contains the jubilee addresses ot congratulation. The largest coal breaker in the world is in operation at Edwardsville colliery, Luzerne County, Pennsyl vania. It prepares for market 4,000 mine cars of coal eveiy ten hours. A single sheet of paper 6 feet wide and 7^ miles in length has been made at the Watertown, N. Y., papei works. It weighed 2,207 pounds, and was made and rolled entire without a single break. The greatest elevation ever attained by balloonists was 37,000 feet about seven miles. The aeronauts were James Glaisher, F. R. S., and Mr. Coxwell. The ascent was made September 5, 1862, at Wolver hampton, England. The longest single span of wire in the world is used for a telegraph in India. It is stretched over the River Kistuah, between Bezorah and Sectauagrum. It is over 6,000 feet long, and is stretched from the top of one mountain to the top of another, each mountain being nearly 2,000 feet high. The two largest castings in the world are in Japan, one at Nara and the other at Kamakura. Both are statues. The one at Nara is 53 feet and 9 inches from the base to the crown of the head. It was first cast in the eighth century, but was afterward destroyed and recast in year 1223. The Kamakura statue is 47 feet high. The Sydney (Australia) lighthouse is provided with the largest electric light in the world. It has a power of 180,000 candles and may be seen from ships fifty miles at sea. The next largest is in the Palais d'Industrie and has a power of 150,000 candles. Sao Jose, California, has the most powerful electric light in the United States, one of 24,000 candle power. The stone pavement in front of the residence of the late William H. Vanderbilt, in New York city, is made up of the largest slabs of flagging stone ever put in a single pavement. The stones were taken from quar ries in Pike County, Pennsylvania, west of Port Jervis, N. Y., and from the Bigelow quarries in Ulster County, N. Y. The large slab immediately in front of the residence is the largest slab of its kind ever transported from any quarry and cost the millionaire $9,200 ; the entire cost of the pavement was $47,000. Wilson Waddingham who in 1887 purchased 163,000 acres of land in San Miguel Count)', New Mexico, id the greatest individual land proprietor in the world His present landed interests amount to 1,500,000 acres, about 500,000 acres more than are claimed for the- Duke of Westminster. A year ago the largest produc ing farm in the world was one of the same number of acres (1,500,000) situated in the southwest corner ol Louisiana. This immense farm is operated by a northern syndicate, with J. B. Watkins as IMPORTANT FACTS FOR REFERENCE. 545 The fencing alone cost over $50,000 ; enough to buy half the farms in a common county. The Largest Hanging- Bell in the World. The largest hanging bell in the world is in a Bud dhist monastery, near Canton, China. It is eighteen feet high and forty-five feet in circumference, and is of solid bronze. It is one of eight great bells which were cast by command of the Emperor Yung-lo about A. D. 1400, and is said to have cost the lives of eight men, who were killed during the process of casting. The whole bell, both inside and out, is covered with an inscription in embossed Chinese characters about half an inch long, covering even the handle, the total number being 84,000. The characters tell a single gtory one of the Chinese classics. The Largest Stationary Engine in the World. The" largest stationary engine in the world is at the famous zinc mines at Friedensville, Pa. It is known as the " President," and there is no pumping engine in the world that can be compared with the monster. The number of gallons of water raised every minute is 17,500. The driving wheels are thirty-five feet in diameter and weigh forty tons each. The sweep rod is forty feet long, the cylinder no inches in diameter, and the piston-rod eighteen inches in diameter, with a ten-foot stroke. f he Largest Gun in the United States. The largest mounted gun in the United States, is the 20 inch Rodman, smooth bore, at Fort Hamilton, New York Harbor. Its dimensions are as follows : extreme length, 243^$ inches ; maximum diameter, 64 inches ; minimum diameter, 34 inches ; length of bore in calibers, 10.50 inches. The service charge is 200 pounds of powder, and the weight of the projectile is 2,000 pounds. There is also a wrought iron lined rifled 12 J4 inch gun at Sandy Hook. Its weight is 89,350 pounds ; extreme length, 262^ inches ; maximum diameter, 55 inches; minimum diameter, 27.55 inches; length of the bore in calibers, 18.53 inches. This gun is used fcr experimental purposes, in testing powder. The Longest Tunnels in the World. The Mount St. Gothard Tunnel, Italy, is 48,840 feet long, or nearly 10 miles long, and the longest in the world. Mount Cenis Tunnel, Italy, is 39,840 feet long, or ?bout seven miles long. Hoosac Tunnel, Mass., 1325,080 feet long, or about 4> miles. The Nochistongo Tunnel is 21,659 feet long or about four miles. The Sutro Tannel is 21,120 feet long, or four miles. Thames and Medway, Eng., is 11,880 feet long : or About two miles. 35 Largest Steam Hammer in the World. The greatest steam hammer in the world, constructed at the Bethlehem Iron Company's works for the man ufacture of armor plate, was designed after the hammec of Schneider & Co. , of Le Crusot, France, which, next to this one, is the largest hammer in the world. It has a stroke of 125 tons, while the Schneider hammer ia only capable of striking a loo-ton blow. The hammer is used for forging ingots into armor plates. These ingots are cast of metal weighing from 100 to 150 tons, and by this stupendous piece of mechanism are forged into the desired sizes by 125-ton blows. The hammer stands in the centre of a very large building and over a year was spent in its construction. A pit 58 by 62 feet was dug for the foundation and on walls 30 feet high the anvil stands. To give the found ation a certain elasticity, a layer of 20 steel slabs on top of Ohio white oak timbers was made and the sur face was rendered perfectly smooth. It was of course entirely out of the question to cast in a single piece the iron required and the anvil was built by depositing on top of the steel slabs and their timbers 22 blocks of solid cast iron. The average weight of these blocks is 70 tons, and the entire weight of the mass of iron and steel forming the anvil and foundation is nearly 1800 tons. The anvil foundation and the hammer founda^ tion are entirely separate and independent of eact other, and in no way interlaced. The hammer itself is a majestic looking structure, superimposed over the cyclopean mass of iron, forming the anvil huge, substantial and powerful, rising to a height of 90 feet. The housings, composing the first section, form a large arch, curving gracefully over the anvil. These housings are each composed of a single 120-ton casting. The longitudinal width of the ham mer (that is, looking at it from either the east or wesO is 42 feet. The housings whose bases are 10 feet by 8 are firmly clamped into the foundation walls at each side, and are fastened to washers lying beneath the walls a depth of 33 feet. Around the entire periphery of the hammer, to the height of the first section, 15 feet, is a platform of levers controlling the working of the machine. Above is another arch of housings, which weigh 80 tons apiece. This arch is capped by a steam chest, a cast ing ef 65 tons. Here, at the height of some 70 feet, is another platform. On the top of this steam chest, and in the centre of this platform, is super-added the huge cylinder, 24 feet high, with an internal diameter of 76 inches. In the exact zenith of the arch is the large tup or ram of the hammer, an enormous piece of metal about 19^ feet long, 10 feet wide and four feet thick, the weight of which is almost 1000 tons. It is this which forms the principal bulk of the enormous weight of the hammer and gives power to its heavy blows, Connected to this is the piston rod, a splendid specft 546 ENCYCLOPEDIA OF VALUABLE INFORMATION. men of perfectly wrought steel, 40 feet long ana 10 inches diameter. At the bottom of the trip and keyed to it is the die hammer. This is a large square block of iron, faced with steel, and is the piece which will strike the metal that is being forged. The piston-rod has a play of 16^ feet, and the weight of trip, piston- rod and piston aggregates 125 tons, which, multiplied by the full stroke, is the power of the hammer's stu pendous blows. The whole thing is indeed a contriv ance unparalleled in the history of mechanism. Most Notable Bridges of the World. Brooklyn bridge was commenced, under the direc- 'don of J. Roebling, in 1870, and completed in about thirteen years. It is 3,475 feet long and 135 feet high. The cost of building was nearly $15,000,000. The Canti-lever bridge, over the Niagara, is built almost entirely of steel. Its length is 910 feet, the total weight is 3,000 tons, and the cost was $900,000. The Niagara Suspension bridge was built by Roeb ling, in 1852-55, at a cost of $400,000 It is 245 feet above water, 821 feet long, and the strength is esti mated at 1,200 tons. The bridge at Havre de Grace, over the Susquehanna, is 3,271 feet long, and is divided into twelve wooden spans, resting on granite piers. The Britannia bridge crosses the Menai strait, Wales, at an elevation of 103 feet above high water. It is of wrought iron, 1,511 feet long, and was finished in 1850. Cost, $3,008,000. The new London bridge is constructed of granite, from the designs of L- Rennier. It was commenced n 1824, and completed in about seven years, at a cost of $7, 291, ocx). The old London bridge was the first stone bridge. It was commenced in 1176, and completed in 1209. Its founder, Peter of Colechurch, was buried in the crypt of the chapel erected on the centre pier. Coalbrookdale Bridge, England, is the first cast-iron bridge. It was built over the Severn in 1779. The bridge at Burton, over the Trent, was formerly the longest bridge in England, being i ,545 feet. It is QOW partly removed. Built in the twelfth century. The Rialto, at Venice, is said to have been built from the designs of Michael Angelo. It is a single marble arch, 98^ feet long, and was completed in 1591. The Bridge of Sighs, at Venice, over which con demned prisoners were transported from the hall of judgment to the place of execution, was built in 1589. The bridge of the Holy Trinity, at Florence, was built in 1569. It is 322 feet long, constructed of white marble, and stands unrivaled as a work ot art. The covered bridge at Pavia, over the Ticino, was built in the fourteenth century. The roof is held by loo granite columns. The St. Louis bridge, over the Mississippi, is 1,524 feet long, exclusive of approaches. There are three arched spans of cast steei, me centre arch being ,c feet, with a rise of 47^ feet ; and the side spans 502 feet each, with a rise of 46 feet. The width on top, between rails, is 50 feet. The piers re.-ton the bed-rock of the river, 136 feet below high water mark. Captain James B. Eads was the engineer. Rush street bridge, Chicago, 111., erected in 1884, at a cost of $132,000, is the largest general traffic draw bridge in the world. Its roadway will accommodate four teams abreast, and its footways are seven feet wide. The Victoria Bridge, Montreal, one ol the most fr- mous in the world, is nearly two miles in length. The Cleveland (O.) viaduct is 3,211 feet in length, 64 feet wide, 42 feet of which is roadway ; the drawbridge is 332 feet in length, 46 feet wide, nnd is 68 feet above ordinary stage of water. The Greatest City iii the World. London, England, is the greatest city the world eveJ saw. It covers within the fifteen miles' radius of Charing Cross (Strand) 700 square miles. It numbers within these boundaries 5,656,000 of inhabitants. It comprises over 2,000,000 foreigners from every quarter of the globe. It contains more Roman Catholics than Rome itself; more Jews than the whole of Palestine ; more Irish than Dublin ; more Scotchmen than Edin burgh ; more Welshmen than Cardiff; more country- raised persons than the counties of Devon, Warwick shire and Durham combined. Has a birth every five minutes, has a death in it every eight minutes; has seven accidents every day in its 8,000 miles of streets ; has on an average 40 miles of streets opened and 15,000 new houses built in every year. London has 46,000 persons added annually (by birth) to its population ; has over 1,000 ships and 10,000 sailors in its port every day ; has as many beer shops and gin palaces as would, if placed side by side, stretch from Charing Cross to Portsmouth, a distance of seventy-eight miles ; has 38,000 drunkards annually brought before its magis trates ; has seventy miles of open shops every Sunday; has influence with all parts of the world represented by a yearly delivery in its postal districts of 298,000,000 of letters. Eight hundred and fifty trains pass Clap- ham junction every day, and the transportation (under ground) railroad runs 1,211 trains every day. The London Omnibus Company have over 700 'busses, which carry 56,000,000 passengers annually. It is more dangerous to walk the streets of London than to travel by railroad or to cross the Atlantic from New York to Liverpool. In 1886, 130 persons were killed and 2,000 injured by vehicles in the streets. There are in London 15,000 police, 15,000 cabmen, 15,000 persons connected with the post-office. The cost of gas for lighting London annually is $3,000,000. London has 400 daily and weekly newspapers. The ancient city of London was first founded by Brute, the Trojan, in the IMPORTANT FACTS FOR REFERENCE. 547 year of the world 2832, so that since the first building it is 3,007 years old. The drainage system of London is superb, and the death rate very low. The Largest Trees in the World. The big trees of Calaveras and Mariposa Counties, in California, belong to the same genus as the common redwood. This giant of the Sierras is not a handsome tree, either when young or aged ; the branches are short, the spray less graceful than the coast redwood, the leaves small and awl-shaped, but the cones are several times larger, and the wood is of a duller reddish hue. The forests were first seen by white men in the spring of 1852, when a hunter named Dowd conducted a party of miners to the locality where the big trees grew. In the several groves where they have been found, f here are many bees from 275 to 335 feet high, and from 25 to 34 feet in diameter. The area of Mari posa Grove is two miles square, and it contains 427 of the monster trees. The largest in the Calaveras Grove is "The Keystone State," and is 325 feet high, and its girth six feet from the ground is 45 feet. There are some in the Mariposa Grove which are not so high, but which have a greater circumference. "The Griz zly Giant," for example, being 93 feet at the ground, and over 64 eleven feet above. Some dozen miles south of the Mariposa Grove is the Fresno Grove, which is said to contain about 600 trees, the largest 81 feet in circumference ; while about fifty miles north of the Calaveras, in Placer County, a small grove has been discovered. Careful computations have been made of the ages of these trees, and some cautious scientists admit, in regard to one of them, that "its age cannot have exceeded 1,300 years !" The Largest Park in the World. The Yellowstone National Park extends sixty-five miles north and south and fifty-five miles east and west, comprising 3,575 square miles, and is 6,000 feet or more above sea-level. Yellowstone lake, twenty miles by fifteen, has an altitude of 7,788 feet. The mountain ranges which hem in the valleys on every side rise to the height of 10,000 to 12,000 feet, and are always covered with snow. This great park contains the most striking of all the mountains, gorges, falls, rivers, and lakes in the whole Yellowstone region. The springs on Gardiner's River cover an area of about one square mile, and three or four square miles there about are occupied by the remains of springs which have ceased to flow. The natural basins into which these springs flow are from four to six feet in diameter and from one to four feet in depth. The principal ones are located upon terraces midway up the sides of the mountain. The banks of the Yellowstone River abound with ravines and canons, which are carved out of the heart of the mountains through the hardest rocks. The most remarkable of these is the c; ,on of Towes Creek and Column Mountain. The latter, which ex tends along the eastern bank of the river for upward of two miles, is said to resemble the Giant's Causeway., The canon of Tower Creek is about ten miles in length, and is sc deep and gloomy that it is called "The Devil's Den." Where Tower Creek ends the Grand Canon begins. It is twenty miles in length, im passable throughout, and inaccessible at the water's edge, except at a few points. Its rugged edges are from 200 to 500 yards apart, and its depth is so pro found that no sound ever reaches the ear from the bottom. The Grand Canon contains a great multitude of hot springs of sulphur, sulphate of copper, alum, etc. In the number and magnitude of its hot springs and geysers, the Yellowstone Park surpasses all the rest of the world. There are probably fifty gey sera that throw a column of water to the height of from 50 to 200 feet, and it is stated that there are not fewe* than 5,000 springs; there are two kinds, those de positing lime and those depositing silica. The teffi" perature of the calcareous springs is from 160 to lye degrees, while that of the others rises to 200 or more! The principal collections are the upper and lower gey ser basins of the Madison River and the calcareous springs on Gardiner's River. The great falls are mar vels to which adventurous travelers have gone only ttf return and report that they are parts of the wonders of this new American wonderland. f The Washington Monument. The corner-stone was laid by President Polk, July 4th, 1848, and December 6, 1884, the cap-stone was set in position. The foundations are 126^ feet square and 36 feet, 8 inches deep. The base of the monument is 55 feet, \y 2 inches square, and the walls 15 feet, $ inch thick. At the soo-foot mark, where the pyram idal top begins, the shaft is 34 feet, 5^ inches square and the walls are 18 inches thick. The monument is made of block? of marble 2 feet thick, and it is said there are over 18,000 of them. The height above tht ground is 555 i'eet. The pyramidal top terminates io an aluminum tip, which is 9 inches high and weighs 100 ounces. The mean pressure of the monument is > tons per square foot, and the total weight, foundation and all, is nearly 81,000 tons. The door at the base, facing the capitol, is 8 feet wide and 16 feet high, and enters a room 25 feet square. An immense iron frame' work supports the machinery of the elevator, which is hoisted with steel wire ropes two inches thick. Atone side begin the stairs, of which there are fifty flights, containing eighteen steps each. Five hundred and twenty feet from the base there are eight windows, 18x24 inches, two on each face. The area at the base of the pyramidal top is 1,187^ feet, space enough for a six-room house, each room to be 12x16 feet. Thvi Cologne Cathedral is 525 feet high -, the pyramid o* ENCYCLOPEDIA OF VALUABLE INFORMATION. Cheops, 486 ; Strasburg Cathedral, 474 ; St. Peter's at Rome, 448 ; the Capitol at Washington, 306, and Bun ker Hill monument, 221 feet. The Washington monument, therefore, is the highest structure in the world except the temporary Eiffel Tower. Exter nally the monument is complete, but to complete the interior will be the work of time. When done the total cost will aggregate not far from f i, 500, coo. Height of Principal Monuments and Buildings. Places. Names. Feet. Paris Eiffel 1,000 Wash., D. C Washington Monument.. 555 Philadelphia Public Buildings 535 Egypt Pyramid of Cheops 486 Belgium Antwerp Cathedral 476 France Strasburg Cathedral 474 Egypt Pyramid of Cephrenes 456 Rome St. Peter's Church 448 Germany St. Martin's Church, atLandshut 411 England Salisbury Cathedral 400 England St. Paul's Church, London 365 Italy Cathedral at Florence 386 Lombardy Cathedral at Cremona 397 Germany Church at Fribourg 386 Spain Cathedral of Seville 360 I/ombardy Cathedral of Milan 355 Holland Cathedral of Utrecht 356 Egypt Pyramid of Sakkarah 356 Bavaria Cathedral of Notre Dame, Munich 348 Venice St. Mark's Church ... 328 Italy Assinelli Tower, Bologna 272 New York Trinity Church 284 Hindostan Column at Delhi 262 China Porcelain Tower, Nankin 260 Paris Church of Notre Dame 224 Massachusetts... Bunker Hill Monument 221 Italy Leaning Tower of Pisa 179 Baltimore Washington Monument 175 Paris Monument, Place Vendome 153 Italy Trojan's Pillar, Rome 151 Paris Obelisk of Luxor no P Capacity of the Largest Churches and Halls. St. Peter's Cathedral Rome 54,ooo Cathedral of Milan Milan ; 37,000 St. Paul's Church Rome 32,000 St. Paul's Cathedral London 25,000 Church of St. Petronio.. Bologna 24,000 Cathedral of Florence... Florence 24,000 Cathedral of Antwerp. ..Antwerp 24,000 Mosque of St. Sophia... Constantinople 23,000 St. John's Lateran Rome 22,000 Cathedral of Notre ) paris Uame > Cathedral of Pisa Pisa 13,000 Church of St. Stephen.. .Vienna 12,000 Church of St. Dominic.. Bologna 12,000 Church of St. Peter Bologna 11,400 Cathedral of Vienna Vienna 11,000 St. Peter's Cathedral Montreal 10,000 Gilmore's Garden New York 8,433 Auditorium Chicago 8,000 Academy of Music Philadelphia 2,865 Theatre Carlo Felice Genoa 2,560 Boston Theatre Boston 2,972 Covent Garden London 2,684 Academy of Music New York 2,526 Music Hall Boston 2,585 Alexander Theatre St. Petersburg 2,332 Opera House Munich 2,307 San Carlos Theatre Naples 2,240 Imperial Theatre St. Petersburg 2,160 Grand Opera Paris 2,090 La Scala Milan 2,113 St. Charles Theatre New Orleans 2,178 Opera House New Orleans 2,052 Grand Opera House New York 1,883 Booth's Theatre New York 1,807 McVickar's Theatre Chicago i>79 Ford's Opera House Baltimore 1,720 * Opera House Berlin 1)636 The Highest Mountains. Feet. Kunchainyunga, Himalayas 28,170 Sorata, Andes 25,380 Illimani, Bolivia 21,780- Chimborazo, Ecuador 21,444 Hindoo-Koosh, Afghanistan 20,600 Cotopaxi, Ecuador !9,4o8 Antisana, Ecuador !9,I5O St. EHas, British America 18.000 Popocatapetl, Mexico i?,735 , Mt. Roa, Hawaii 16,000 Mt. Brown 15,900 Mont Blanc 15,776 ; Mowna Roas, Owhyhee 15,700 Mt. Rosa, Alps, Sardinia 15,550 Pinchinca, Ecuador 15,200 Mt. Whitney, Cal 15,000 Mt. Fairweather, Alaska J 4>796 Mt. Shasta, Cal I4,45o Pike's Peak, Colorado , 14,320 Mt. Ophir, Sumatra 13,800 Fremont's Peak, Wyoming 13, 57 j Long's Peak, Cal 13,400 1 Mt. Ranier, Washington 13,000 Mt. Ararat, Armenia 12,700 Peak of Teneriffe, Canaries 12,236 Miltsin, Morocco 12,000 Mt. Hood, Oregon n,57O IMPORTANT FACTS FOR REFERENCE. 549 Feet. Simplon, Alps n>542 Mt. Lebanon, Syria 11,000 Mt. Perdu, France 10,950 Mt. St. Helen's, Oregon 10,158 Mt. Etna, Sicily 10,050 Olympus, Greece 9754 St, Gothard, Alps 9. 8 Pilate, Alps 9.5 Mt. Sinai, Arabia 8,000 Pindus, Greece 7,^77 Black Mountain, New Caledonia 6,467 Mt. Washington, New Hampshire 6,234 Mt. Marcy, New York 5.4^7 Mt. Hecla, Iceland 5. 000 Ben Nevis, Scotland 4,4o Mansfield, Vermont 4,280 Peaks of Otter, Virginia 4,260 Ben Lawers, Scotland 4>O3o Parnassus, Greece 3,95 Vesuvius, Naples 3>93 2 Snowdon, England 3,5 Stromboli 3,850 Ben Lomond 3,280 Mt. Carmel 2,000 Gibraltar 1,470 Height of Twenty-four of the Loftiest Vol canoes of the World. Height Name of Volcano. in feet. Where Located. Sahama 23,000 Peru. Llullaillac 21,000 Chili. Arequipa 20,500 Peru. Cayambi 19,813 Ecuador. Cotopaxi 19,500 Peru. Antisana 19,200 Ecuador. San Jose 18,150 Chili. Mt. St. Elias 17,900 Alaska. Popocatepetl 17,884 Mexico. Orizaba 17,370 Mexico. Altar 17,126 Ecuador. Sangai 17,120 Ecuador. Klintcheoskaia 16,512 Kamtschatka. Iztacihuatl 15,700 Mexico. Toluco 15,500 Mexico. Shasta 14,400 United States. Fujiyama 14,000 Japan. Mauna Kea I 3,953 Sandwich Islands. 'Mauna Loa 13,760 Sandwich Islands. Teneriffe 12,236 Canary Islands. Mt. St. Helens 12,000 United States. Mt. Hood 11,225 United States. Peak of Tahiti 10,895 Friendly Islands. Mt. Etna 10.874 Sicily. Three of the best known volcanoes of the world, Vesuvius, 3,978 feet; Hecla, 3,970 feet, and Stromboli, 3,000 feet, are of much less elevation than many other* altogether unfamiliar. Greatest Known Depth of the Ocean. The greatest depth which has been ascertained by sounding is five miles and a quarter (25,720 feet, or 4,620 fathoms), not quite equal to the height of the highest known mountain. The average depth between 60 degrees north and 60 degrees south, is nearly three miles. Deepest Lake in the "World. In the Cascade Mountains, about seventy-five miles? northeast of Jacksonville, Ore., the seeker for the curious will find the Great Sunken Lake, the deepest lake in the world. This lake rivals the famous valley of Sinbad the Sailor. It is said to average 2,000 feet down to the water on all its sides. The depth of the water is unknown, and its surface is as smooth and unruffled as a mammoth sheet of glass, it being so far below the mountain rim as to be unaffected by the strongest winds. It is about 15 miles in length, and about 4% wide. For unknown ages it has lain still, silent, and mysterious in the bosom of the great moun tain range, like a gigantic trench, scooped out by the hands of a giant genie. A hunting and surveying party recently left Jacksonville with the intention of ascertaining the exact depth of this mysterious body of water, and to find out, if possible, whether or not fish are to be found within its ghostly precincts. The Longest Rivers in the World. EUROPE;. Name. Miles. Volga, Russia 2,500 Danube 1,800 Rhine 84* Vistula 700 ASIA. Yeneisy and Selenga 3,580 Kiang 3,290 Hoang Ho 3,040 Amoor 2,500 Euphrates 1,900 Ganges ,. 1,850 Tigris 1,160 AFRICA. Nile 3,240 Niger 2,400 Gambia 1,000 SOUTH AMERICA. Amazon and Beni 4,000 Platte 2.700 Rio Madeira 2,300 Rio Negro 1,650 Orinoco 1, 600 Uruguay I,ioo Magdalena dost 55 ENCYCLOPEDIA OF VALUABLE INFORMATION. NORTH AMERICA. Name. Miles. Mississippi and Missouri 4,300 Mackenzie... 2,800 Rio Bravo 2,300 Arkansas 2,070 Red River 1,520 Ohio and Allegheny 1,480 St. Lawrence 1,450 Size of Lakes, Seas and Oceans. Miles Lakes. Long. Superior 380 Michigan 330 Ontario 180 Champlain 123 Brie 270 Huron 250 Cayuga 36 George 36 Baikal 360 Great Slave 300 Winnipeg 240 Athabasca 200 Maracaybo 150 Great Bear 150 Ladoga 125 Constance 45 Geneva 50 Lake of the Woods 70 rivers had made beds for themselves with alluviaa banks higher than the plains across which they flowed. But aside from these the colossal calamity at Johns town, Pa., in June, 1889, and through the fated Cone- maugh valley, leads all disasters in this country in the appalling muster roll of the dead. In past centuries the greatest loss of life has been by earthquake, and the following list embraces the loss w. historic calami' ties : Miles Wide. 120 60 40 12 50 90 4 3 35 45 40 20 60 40 75 10 10 25 Miles Seas. Long. Mediterranean 2,000 Caribbean 1,800 China 1,700 Red 1,400 Japan 1,000 iBlack 932 Caspian 640 Baltic, 600 Okhotsk 600 White 450 Aral 250 Miles -Oceans. Square. Pacific 80,000,000 Atlantic 40,000,000 Indian 20,000,000 Southern 10,000,000 Arctic 5,000,000 The Great Catastrophes of History. In China, where some of the greatest rivers in the world flovv between artificial banks at an elevation considerably above the surrounding country, there have been overflows that caused the destruction of hundreds of thousands of lives. There have been similar disasters in India, where, as in China, the Persons Killed. Year. Place. Persons Killed. 1137 Sicily 15,000 1158 Syria 20,000 1268 Cilicia 50,001- 1456 Naples 40,000 1531 Lisbon 40,000 1626 Naples 70,000 1667 Schamaki 80,000 1692 Jamaica 3,ooo 1693 Sicily 100,000 1703 Aquila, Italy.. 4,000 1703 Yeddo, Japan. 200,000 1706 The Abruzzi... 15.000 1716 Algiers 20,000 1726 Palermo 6,000 1731 Pekin 100,000 1746 Lima and Cal- loa 18.000 1754 Grand Cairo... 40,000 1755 Kashan, Per sia 40,000 1759 Syria 20,000 1784 E z inghian, Asia Minor... 5,000 One instance shows how the human race has been depleted from this cause. In the Kingdom of Naples, from 1783 to 1857, a period of 75 years, the loss of life by earthquakes was 1 1 1 ,000 or at the rate of more that 1500 a year, out of a population of 6,000,000. The country surrounding the Mediterranean and the inter' tropical area from which the American Cordilleras spring, may be regarded as the centers of earthquake activity, though some of the greatest earthquakes of all time have occurred in Eastern Asia and the East Indies. The list of losses by great floods and freshets in history is as follows : Year. 1 lace. 1792 Country be tween Santa Fe and Pana ma 1805 Naples 1822 Aleppo 1829 Murcia 1830 Canton 1842 Cape Haytien 1857 Calabria 1859 Quito 1860 M e n d o z i , South A m- erica 1868 Towns in; Peru and Ecuador 1875 San Jose de Cucuta, Co lombia 1881 Scio 1886 Charleston... 40,000 6,500 20,000 5.000 6,000 4,000 10,000 5,000 7,000 25,000 14,000 4,000 96 Year. Place. Lives Lost. 1871 China 3,000 1874 Mill River, Mass 150 1878 Egypt, the Nile 250 Year. Place. Lives Lost 1879 Marcia, Spain 1,000 1887 Yellow River, China 100,000 1889 Johnstown, Pa 6,m Great Conflagrations of the Present Century. But the greatest destruction of life and property by conflagrations, of which the world has anything like accurate records, must be looked for within the current century. Of these the following is a partial list of in stances in which the loss of prot>eity amounted to $3, 000,000 and upward: IMPORTANT FACTS FOR REFERENCE. 55' Dates. Cities. 1802 Liverpool ; 1803 Bombay 1805 St. Thomas 1808 Spanish Town 1812 Moscow, burned five days; 30,800 houses destroyed 1816 Constantinople, 12,000 dwellings, 3000 shops 1820 Savannah 1822 Canton, nearly destroyed 1828 Havana, 350 houses 3835 New York ("Great Fire") 1837 St. John, N. B 1838 Charleston, 1158 buildings 1841 Smyrna, 12,000 houses 1842 Hamburg, 4219 buildings, 100 lives lost 1845 New York, 35 persons killed 1845 Pittsburgh, noo buildings 1845 Quebec, May 28, 1650 dwellings 1845 Quebec, June 28, 1300 dwellings 1846 St. Johns, Newfoundland 1848 Constantinople, 2500 buildings 1848 Albany, N. Y., 600 houses 1849 St. Louis 1851 St. Louis, 2500 buildings 1851 St. Louis, 500 buildings 1851 San Francisco, May 4 and 5, many lives lost 1851 San Francisco, June 1852 Montreal, 1200 buildings 1861 Mendoza, destroyed by earthquake and fire, 10,000 lives lost 1862 St. Petersburg 1862 Troy, N. Y., nearly destroyed 1862 Valparaiso, almost destroyed 1864 Novgorod, immense destruction of property 1865 Constantinople, 2800 buildings burned. 1866 Yokohama, nearly destroyed 1865 Carlstadt, Sweden, all consumed but Bishop's residence, hospital, and jail; 10 lives lost 1866 Portland, Me., half the city 1866 Quebec, 2500 dwellings and 17 churches 1870 Constantinople, Pera suburb 1871 Chicago, 250 lives lost, 17,430 build ings burned, on 2124 acres 1871 Paris, fired by the Commune 1872 Boston 1873 Yeddo, 10,000 houses 1877 Pittsburgh, caused by riot 187? St. Johns, N. B., 1650 dwellings, 18 lives lost Property Destroyed 5,000,000 3,000,000 30,000,000 7,500,000 150,000,000 4,000,000 15,000,000 5,000,000 3,000,000 35,000,000 7,500,000 10,000,000 3,750,000 5,000,000 15,000,000 3,000,000 3.000,000 11,000,000 3,000,000 10,000,000 3,000,000 5,000,000 5,000,000 11,000,000 26,000,000 192,000,000 160,000,000 75,000,000 3,260,000 12,500,000 Property Dates. Cities. Destroyed 1889 Seattle, Wash 20,060,000 From the above it appears that the five greatest fires on record, reckoned by destruction of property, are : Chicago fire, of Oct. 8 and 9, 1871 $192,000,000 Paris fires, of May, 1871 160,000,000 Moscow fire, of Sept. 14-19, 1812 150,000,000 Boston fire, Nov. 9-10, 1872 75,000,009 London fire, Sept. 2-6, 1666 53, 652,500 Hamburg fire, May 5-7, 1842 35,000,000 Taking into account, with the fires of Paris and Chicago, the great Wisconsin and Michigan forest fires of 1871, in which it is estimated that 1000 human beings perished and property to the amount of over $3,000,000 was consumed, it is plain that in the annals of confla* grations th^'.year stands forth in gloomy pre-eminence Chicago's Great Fires. There were 2,100 acres of land burned over, nearly all of which area was thickly covered with buildings. There were nearly 18,000 buildings destroyed, of which about 2, 400 were stores andfactories ; and. there were but few short of 100,000 people rendered homeless by the calamity. The extreme length of the burnt district was 3^ miles, and its greatest width a little over a mile. The fire of July, 1874, originated on South Clark street, between Taylor and Twelfth, and spread north east to Michigan avenue. It was estimated that in this fire about fifty acres were burned over, many of the the new buildings which had been erected after the great fire of 1871 having been leveled. The loss of property in the great fire of 1871 was $192,000,000, after allowing $4,000,000 for salvage on foundations of build ings. This estimate does not include the shrinkage of real estate values, or the large loss to mercantile inter= ests by the interruption of trade consequent upon the destruction of stocks and business facilities. Mr. Col- bert estimated the grand aggregate not very much below $290,000,000. The loss occasioned by the fire of 1874 was estimated as follows : The net loss to insur ance companies was officially placed at $2,244,970, or 40 per cent, of the entire loss, making an estimated total loss of $5,612,425. The cash contributions to Chi cago within three months after t'ie fire amounted to $4,200,000. Most Noted Facts m Turf History. The richest stake ever run in America was the Fu turity stake of 1890, run at Sheepshead Bay, L. I.. August 30, and won by August Belmont's ch. c. Potomac (2) by St. Blaise, dam Susquehanna, by Leamington. The value of the stake was $77,700, at which $68,450 went to the winner, and $4500 to the second horse, Masher, b. c., by 111 Used, also owned by Mr.. Belmont, who in addition received $2500 for breeding first and second, making his winnings $75, 450. Strathmeath, the third horse, received $2250. 552 ENCYCLOPEDIA OF VALUABLE INFORMATION. The Lancashire plate run at the Manchester, Eng. , September meeting of 1889, and won by the Duke of Portland's b. c. Donovan, was -worth nearly $80,000 to the winner. Largest amount ever won by an American two-year old, $78,650, Potomac, b. c., by St. Blaise, 1890. The greatest winning three-year-old was Hanover, by Hindoo. He won twenty races and $89,827. Miss Woodford, br. m., foaled 1880, by imported Bil let, darn Fanny Jane, by Neil Robinson, won more money than any animal that ever ran on the American turf, winning in five years forty-eight races, worth $118,970. In 1886 the stable of Dwyer Brothers won $208,549.16 in purses and stakes more money than was ever won by any other single racing establishment in America. The greatest sale of thoroughbreds ever had in this country was that of P. Lorillard in 1886, at which twenty-seven head sold for $149,050, the highest price being $29,000, the lowest $300. The Kentucky-bred horse Abbotsford, formerly Mis take, is the only horse that has ever won races in Eng land, France and America. King Thomas, by King Ban, was the highest priced yearling ever sold at auction, L. O. Appleby paying $38,000 for him at the Haggin sale in New York, June 25, 1888. The following day Mr. Appleby sold the colt to Senator Hearst, of California, for $40,000. Highest price ever paid for a horse, $105,000, for Axtell, br. s. , record, 2.12, three years old, by William L. (son of George Wilkes), dam Lou, by Mambrino Boy. Purchased from C. W. Williams, of Independ ence, Iowa, by John W. Oonley, of Chicago, and oth ers. Dimensions of Bartholdi's Statue of Liberty. The figure of this statue, which is made of repousse, or hammered work that is, thin sheets of copper beat en into shape and fastened about an iron skeleton is 1 10% feet high and weighs 100,000 pounds. The up lifted torch, however, is raised 26 feet, and adding to this the pedestal, the tip of the torch is raised 220 feet from the ground. The pedestal is of stone, 82 feet high. Some idea of the enormous proportions of the statue may be given from the fact that the forefinger is 8 feet long, and 4 feet in circumference at the second joint. The head is 14 feet high and 40 persons can in it. The Dimensions of the Great Wall of China, and of What It Is Built. It runs from a point on the Gulf of Liantung, an arm of the Gulf of Pechili in North-eastern China, westerly to the Yellow River, thence makes a great bend to the south for nearly 100 miles, and then runs to the north west for several hundred miles to the Desert of Gobi. Its length is 1,500 miles. For the mostof this distance it runs through a mountainous country, keeping on the ridges, and winding over many of the highest peaks. In some places it is only a formidable ram part, but most of the way it is composed of lofty walls of masonry and concrete, or impacted lime and clay, from 12 to 16 feet in thickness, and from 15 to 30 or 35 feet in height. The top of this wall is paved for hun dreds ot miles, and crowned with crenelated batcle- ments, and towers 30 to 40 feet high. In numerous places the wall climbs such steep declivities that its top ascends from height to height in flights of granite steps. An army could march on the top of the wall for weeks and even months, moving in some places ten men abreast. The History of Plymouth Rock. A flat rock near the vicinity of New Plymouth is said to have been the one on which the great body of the Pilgrims landed from the Mayflower. The many members of the colony, who died in the winter of 1620-21, were buried near this rock. About 1738 it was proposed to build a wharf along the shore there. At this time there lived in New Plymouth an old man over 90 years of age named Thomas Faunce, who had known some of the Mayflower's passengers when a lad, and by them had been shown the rock on which they had landed. On hearing that it was to be covered with a wharf the old man wept, and it has been said that his tears probably saved Plymouth Rock from ob livion. After the Revolution, it was found that the rock was quite hidden by the sand washed upon ft by the sea. The sand was cleared away, but in attempt ing to take up the rock it was split in two. The upper half was taken to the village and placed in the town square. In 1834 it was removed to a position in front of Pilgrim Hall and inclosed in an iron railing. In September, 1880, this half of the stone was taken back to the shore and reunited to the other portion. A handsome archway was then built over the rock, to protect it in part from the depredations of relic hunters. Most Northern Point Reached by Arctic Explorers. The following table shows the furthest points of north latitude reached by Artie explorers up to and including the Greely expedition : Year. Explorers. North Latitude. 1607 Hudson Sod 23m oos 1 773 Phipps (Lord Musgrove) Sod 48in oos 1806 Scoresby Sid i2tn 42$ 1827 Parry 82d 45m 305 1874 Meyer (on land) Sad O9in oos 1875 Markham (Nare's expedition) 83d 2om 263 1876 Payer 83d O7m oos 1884 Lockwood (Greely 's party) 83d 24m oos The distance from the farthest point of polar discov ery to the pole itself is 6 deg. /l6 min., or in round IMPORTANT FACTS FOR REFERENCE. 553 Cumbers, 460 miles. It is thirty miles less than from Chicago to Omaha, by the lines of the Chicago, Milwaukee and St. Paul railway, over which the traveller rides in 24 hours. But this polar radius, though only 460 miles in extent, is covered by ice gorges and precipices of incredible difficulty ; and frost is so severe that no instrument of human inven tion can measure its intensity, and it blisters the skin like extreme heat. The greatest progress that has ever been made across these wildernesses of storm, of fury and desolation, was at the rate of five or six miles in a day, the explorers often necessarily resting as many days as they had before travelled miles in a single day, debarred by the obstacles that they had encountered. The Coal Area of the World. The coal area of the world is distributed as follows : Sq. Miles. Sq. Miles. United States 192,000 British America 18,000 Great Britain 12,000 Spain 4,000 France 2,000 Germany 1,800 Belgium 518 Rest of Europe 100,000 China 2,000 Japan 5,000 Railroad Facts. The cost of railroads in the United States has been nine billion dollars. One million oersons are employed by the railroads of the United States. The cost of r high-class eight-wheel passenger loco motive is about $8,500. The cost of a palace sleeping-car is $15,000, or if " vestibuled," $17,000. The average cost of constructing a mile of railroad in the United States at the present time is about $30,000. The average daily earning of an American locomo tive is about $100. The "consolidation" locomotive weighs about 50 tons, and is able to draw on a level over 2,400 tons. The longest mileage operated by a single system is that of the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe about 8,000 miles. The line of railroad which extends farthest east and west is the Canadian Pacific, running from Quebec to the Pacific ocean. There are sixty miles of snow-sheds on the Central Pacific Railroad. The highest railroad in the United States is the Denver and Rio Grande at Marshall Pass 10,852 feet. The longest American railroad tunnel is the Hoosac Tunnel on the Fitchburg Railroad four and three- ' quarter miles. (The St. Gothard Tunnel in Europe is over nine miles in length.) There are 208,749 railroad bridges in the United States, spanning 3,213 miles. The longest railroad bridge span In the United States is the Cantilever span in the Poughkeepsie bridge over the Hudson river 548 feet. The highest railroad bridge in the United States is the Kinzua Viaduct on the Erie road 305 feet high. The Manhattan Elevated Railroad, of New York carried the largest number of passengers of any American road last year 525,000 daily, or 191,625,000 yearly. The Illinois Central carried the largest number of commuters 4, 828,128 in 1887. A steel rail lasts, with average wear, about eighteen years. The Fastest Locomotive Ever Built. The largest and fastest passenger engine ever built, was by the Rhode Island Locomotive Works, for the New York, Providence and Boston Railroad Company. The main driving wheels are six feet in diameter, and set but seven feet six inches apart. This arrangement makes her run easily on curves. The cylinders are eighteen inches in diameter, with twenty-four-inch stroke. The boiler is fifty-four inches in diameter at the smoke-stack, with a wagon top. It extends to the very end of the cab, and necessitates the elevation of the engineer's seat to a height far above the fire door. The fire requires three tons of coal before the engine pulls out of the round-house to make her trips, and four tons will be carried on the tender. The tank of the latter will hold 4,000 gallons of water, and the total weight of the engine proper is 93,000 to 95,000 pounds. The weight on the driving wheel will be 66,000 pounds, or 4,800 more than the Connecticut. She looks to be enormously high as she sets up well in the air, and her short smoke-stack adds to her appar ent height. Everything about her is steel. There is not a particle of brass or bright work about her. She will make the run from Providence to Groton, Conn., a distance of 62.5 miles, including a dead stop at Mystic drawbridge, as required by the statutes of Connecticut, in just 62.5 minutes, pulling at the same time eight cars, four of which are Pullmans. The Seven Wonders of the World. The "pyramids " first, which in Egypt were laid: Next " Babylon's garden," for Amytis made ; Then " Mausolo's tomb " of affection and guilt ; Fourth, the "temple of Dian," in Ephesus built; The "colossus of Rhodes," cast in brass, to the suaf Sixth, "Jupiter's statue," by Phidias done: The " pharos of Egypt " comes last, we are told, Or the " palace of Cyrus," cemented with gold. The Wonders of the New World. The group of natural objects that have been classed as the seven wonders of the new world are, Niagara Falls, Yellowstone Park, the Mammoth Cave, the 554 ENCYCLOPEDIA OF VALUABLE INFORMATION. Canons and Garden of the Gods, Colorado, the Giant Trees, California, the Natural Bridge, Virginia, and the Yoseniite Valley. Dates of First Occurrences. Postoffices were first established in 1464. Printed musical notes were first used in 1473. The first watches were made at Nuremberg in 1477. America was discovered in 1492. The first printing press was set up at Copenhagen in 1493- Durer gave the world a prophecy of future wood- cngraving in 1527. Jergens set the spinning wheel in motion in 1530. Modern needles first came into use in 1545. The first knives were used in England, and the first wheeled carriages in France, in 1559. Religious liberty was granted to the Huguenots in France in 1562, and was followed by the massacre of St. Bartholomew in 1572. Cervantes wrote Don Quixote in 1573. The first newspaper was published in England in 1588. Telescopes were invented in 1590. The first printing press in the United States was in troduced in 1629. The first air-pump was made in 1650. The first newspaper advertisement appeared in 1652. The first copper cent was coined in New Haven in 1687. The first steam-engine on this continent came from England in 1753. The first balloon ascent was made in 1783. The first society for the Promotion of Christian Knowledge was organized in 1698. The first attempt to manufacture pins in this country was made soon after the war of 1812. The first prayer-book of Edward VI came into use by authority of Parliament on Whit-Sunday, 1549. Glass windows first introduced into England in the eighth century. The first steamboat plied the Hudson in 1807. The first sawmakers' anvil was brought to America in 1819. The first use of a locomotive in this country was in 1820. Kerosene was first used for lighting purposes in 1826. The first horse railroad was built in 1826-7. The first lucifer match was made in 1829, The first iron steamship was built in 1830. The first steel pen was made in 1830. Omnibuses were introduced in New York in 1830. Ships were first " copper-bottomed" in 1837. 1 Envelopes were first used in 1839. Anaesthesia was discovered in 1844. Coaches were first used in England in 1569. The first steel-plate was discovered in 1830. The Franciscans arrived in England in 1224. The entire Hebrew Bible was printed in 1488. Gold was first discovered in California in 1848. The first telescope was used in England in 1608. Christianity was introduced into Japan in 1549. First almanac printed by George Von Furbach in 1460. Percussion arms were used in the United States Army in 1830. The first glass factory in the United States was built, in 1780. The first complete sewing-machine was patented by Elias Howe, Jr., in 1846. The first temperance society in this country was organized in Saratoga County, N. Y., in March, 1808. The first coach in Scotland was brought thither in 1501, when Queen Mary came from France. It be longed to Alexander Lord Seaton. The first daily newspaper appeared in 1702. The first newspaper printed in the United States was pub lished in Boston on September 25, 1790. The first telegraphic instrument was successfully operated by S. F. B. Morse, the inventor, in 1835, though its utility was not demonstrated to the world until 1842. The first Union flag was unfurled on the ist of Janu ary > J??^) over the camp at Cambridge. It had thirteen stripes of white and red, and retained the English cross in one corner. When Captain Cook first visited Tahiti, the natives were using nails of wood, bone, shell, and stone. When they saw iron nails, they fancied them to be shoots of some very hard wood, and, desirous of secur ing such a valuable commodity, they planted them in t 1 .eir gardens. At first the watc..i was about the size of a dessert- plate. It had weights, and was used as a " pocket clock." The first great improvement, the substitution of sprngs for weights, was in 1540. The earliest springs were not coiled, but only straight pieces of steel. Early watches had only one hand, and being wound up twice a day, they could not be expected to keep the time nearer than fifteen or twenty minutes in the twelve hours. The dials were of silver or brass, the cases had no crystals, but opened at the back and front, and were four or five inches in diameter. A p^-ain watch cost the equivalent of $ 1600 in our cur rency, and after one was ordered, it took a year to make it. Origin of Vegetation. Spinach is a Persian plant. Horseradish is a native of England. Melons were found originally in Asia. Filberts originally came from Greece. Quinces originally came from Corinth. The turnip originally came from Rome. IMPORTANT FACTS FOR REFERENCE. 555 The peach originally came from Persia. Sage is a native of the south of Europe. Sweet marjoram is a native of Portugal. The bean is said to be a native of Egypt. Damsons originally came from Damascus. The nasturtium came originally from Peru. The pea is a native of the south of Europe. Ginger is a native of the East and West Indies, The gooseberry is indigenous to Great Britain. Coriander seed came originally from the East. Apricots are indigenous to the plains of America. The cucumber was originally a tropical vegetable. The walnut is a native of Persia, the Caucasus, and China. Capers originally grew wild in Greece and northern Africa. Pears were originally brought from the East by the Romans. The clove is a native of the Malacca Islands, as is also the nutmeg. Cherries were known in Asia as far back as the seventeenth century. Garlic came to us first from Sicily and the shores of the Mediterranean. Asparagus was originally a wild sea-coast plant, and is a native of Great Britain. The tomato is a native of South America, and it takes its name from a Portugese word. Parsley is said to have come from Egypt, and mythology tells us it was used to adorn the head of Hercules. Apples were originally brought from the East by the Romans. The crab apple is indigenous to Great Britain. The onion was almost an object of worship with the "Egyptians 2000 years before the Christian era. It first came from India. Cloves came to us from the Indies, and take their name from the Latin clauvis, meaning a nail, to which they have a resemblance. The cantaloupe is a native of America, and so called from the name of a place near Rome, where it was first .cultivated in Europe. Lemons were used by the Romans to keep moths from their garments, arid in the time of Pliny they were considered an excellent poison. They are natives of Asia. Philosophical Facts. The greatest height at which visible clouds ever exist tees not exceed ten miles. Air is about eight hundred and fifteen times lighter than water. The pressure of the atmosphere upon every square foot of the earth amounts to two thousand one hundred and sixty pounds. An ordinary sized man, supposing his surface to be fourteen square feet, sustains the enormous pressure of thirty thousand two hundred and forty pounds. The barometer falls one-tenth of an inch for every seventy-eight feet of elevation. The violence of the expansion of water when freez ing is sufficient to cleave a globe of copper of such thickness as to require a force of 27,000 pounds to produce the same effect. During the conversion of ice into water one hundred and forty degrees of heat are absorbed. Water, when converted into steam, increases in bulk eighteen hun dred times. In one second of time in one beat of the pendulum of a clock, light travels two hundred thousand miles. Were a cannon ball shot toward the sun, and were it to maintain full speed, it would be twenty years in reach ing it and yet light travels through this space in seven or eight minutes. Strange as it may appear, a ball of a ton weight and another of the same material of an ounce weight, fall ing from any height will reach the ground at the same time. The heat does not increase as we rise above the earth nearer to the sun, but decreases rapidly until, beyond the regions of the atmosphere, in void, it is estimated that the cold is about seventy degrees below zero. The line of perpetual frost at the equator is 15,000 feet alti tude ; 13, ooo feet bet ween the tropics; and 9000 to 4000 between the latitudes of forty degrees and forty-nine degrees. At a depth of forty-five feet under ground, the tem perature of the earth is uniform throughout the year. In svimmer time, the season of ripening moves northward at the rate of about twenty miles a day. The human ear is so extremely sensitive that it can hear a sound that lasts only the twenty- four thousandth part of a second. Deaf persons have sometimes con versed together through rods of wood held between their teeth, or held to their throat or breast. The ordinary pressure of the atmosphere on the sur face of the earth is two thousand one hundred and sixty-eight pounds to each square foot, or fifteen pounds to each square inch ; equal to thirty perpen dicular inches of mercury, or thirty-four and a half feet of water. Sound travels at the rate of one thousand one hun dred and forty-two feet per second about thirteen miles in a minute. So that if we hear a clap of thunder half a minute after the flash, we may calcu late that the discharge of electricity is six and a half miles off. Lightning can be seen by reflection at the distance of two hundred miles. The explosive force of closely confined gunpowder is six and a half tons to the square inch. 556 ENCYCLOPEDIA OF VALUABLE INFORMATION. Electricity. As far back as 321 B. C., the ancient philosopher Theophrastus mentions the power of amber to attract straws and dry leaves. Pliny in 70 A. D., writes con cerning the same phenomenon, and it is from the Greek name of "amber," pronounced "elecktron," that we call this phenomenon "electricity." Dr. Gil bert, of Colchester, may be considered the founder of the science of electricity, for it was he that carefully repeated the observations of the ancients, and experi mented in various ways and published these experi ments in a book during the period between 1540 and 1603. Sir Wm. Watson (1715 to 1807) distinctly an nounced the theory of positive and negative electric ity, which was afterwards elaborated by Dr. Benjamin Franklin. Dr. Franklin also established the fact that the lightning was an electrical spark, similar to that made by an electric machine or Leyden jar. In 1790, Galvani discovered that the contact of metals produced muscular contraction in the legs of a dead frog, and in 1800, Volta discovered the art of generating electricity by contact of metals with damp cloths. From these we obtained the galvanic battery and the voltaic pile. It remained with Prof. H. C. Oersted, of Copen hagen, however, to bring forward the most important fact, viz : the magnetic action of the electrical current. This was in 1820. As soon as the discovery reached France, the eminent French philosopher Ampere set to work to develop the important consequences it in volved. Faraday in 1820, discovered electric-magnetic rotation. From this time up, experimentists and the orists were busy searching for ways and means by which the electrical energy could be utilized as a me chanical power, and to-day the galvanic battery and electric dynamo are rapidly ousting steam, and in a thousand ways doing its work with less noise, expense end better results. Electrical lighting is done by means of the arc and incandescent systems. The Phonograph. The Phonograph is a machine for recording and then transmitting sounds ; speech, music, etc. It is the in vention of Thos. A. Edison, the most noted electrician of this age. The phonograph was accidentally discov ered. Mr. Edison was at work on an apparatus for recording a telegraphic message, by having an arma- titnre (with a needle fastened in one end) of the sounder indentations on a piece of tin foil wrapped I firound a cylinder. The message would thus be punc tured or indented on this tin foil, then, by substituting another needle blunt for the sharp one and turning the cylinder, the armature would be vibrated as the needle entered into and passed out of the indentations. While experimenting, he turned the cylinder very tapidly, And instead of a succession of "clicks," a | musical sound was produced. He seized the idest, A*d the Edison phonograph is the result. The perfected phonograph of to-day consists of 6 cylinder of wax, or other plastic material, which is re- volved either by hand, foot power or an electric motor. This cylinder, called the phonogram, is used for re cording the sound. This is done by a diaphragm such as is used in a telephone into the centre of which is fastened a sharp needle, which rests upon and just touches the phonogram. When the words are spoken the diaphragm vibrates, moving this needle up and down, and a series of indentations are made in a spiral line on the phonogram, which is turning around about eighty-five times a minute. To make the phonograph speak, or repeat the words, another diaphragm, similar to the first or recorder, but having a blunt instead of a sharp needle, is placed at the starting point and th phonogram made to revolve ; of course, as the needle passes over the indentations it vibrate? the diaphragm and the words are reproduced as in a telephone. The phonograph faithfully reproduces music, whis tling, singing, speech, or any sounds, and the phono grams can be packed into a mailing tube and sent all over the world to be used as often as desired. The Telephone. In 1831, Wheatstone showed that when the sounding boards of two musical instruments were connected to gether by a rod of pine wood, a tune played ou one will be faithfully reproduced by the other. Somewhat latet a toy, called the Lovers' String, was made, and is the simplest form of a mechanical telephone. The toy consisted o/ two tin cups, the bottoms made of parch ment or cat-gut tightly stretched like a drum head, and connected, one with tlie other, by a string or cord* When the string was drawn taut, sounds, such as those of ordinary speech, produced in front of one of the cups were transmitted along the string to the other cup and reproduced there. This was the first telephone. At various times between 1831 and 1876, electricians and scientists had experimented with electro-magnets as a means of transmitting sounds a long distance. Charles Bourseul, in 1854, published an article on the electrical transmission of speech, and recommended the use of a flexible plate at the source of sound, which would vibrate in response to the atmospheric pulsations* and thus open and shut an electrical circuit, and would thus operate, by an electro-magnet, upon a similar plat* at a distance connected by wire with the first, causing it to give out as many pulsations as there were breakc in the circuit. In 1876, Alexander Graham Bell first exhibited th* speaking telephone at the Philadelphia Centennial Ex hibition. It is this telephone, greatly improved how* ever, which is now in common use. This telephone consists of a compound permanent magnet fitted into the centre of a brd "ubber tube and carrying, at otfc* IMPORTANT FACTS FOR REFERENCE. 557 nd, a shore electro-magnet. In front of this electro magnet is fixed a thin, soft iron disk, about one and three-fourths inches in diameter. This disk lies at the end of the rubber tube, where the tube is formed into a mouth piece. The action of telephoning with this telephone is very simple. The sound, as ordinary .speech, is made in the mouth piece. The atmosphere conveys the sound vibrations against the thin, iron lisk (commonly called the diaphragm). The disk vibrates in sympathy, aud coming against the electro magnet, breaks and opens the electric circuit with every vibration. By means of the connecting wire, the electro-magnet in the distant telephone causes the diaphragm to vibrate corresponding to the breaks in the current. This of course vibrates the atmosphere and the pulsations are conveyed to the ear. The tele phone thus described is how used as a receiver. The transmitter, invented and improved by Edison and Blake, is combined with the Bell telephone, and makes the telephone of general use. Telephonic communications have been held between Chicago and New York, but not with overwhelming success. Edison's Mimeograph. The Mimeograph was designed and patented by Mr. Thomas A. Edison. In designing the mimeo graph, Mr. Edison took as his fundamental principle, the stylus or point, the writing impliment of man since the art was first invented. It is the natural tool by which the hand can trace characters, and it is this stylus or point peculiar to the mimeograph in the line of duplicating machines, which created for it such a decided and permanent popularity. With the stylus as first principle, Mr. Edison built the mimeograph, with reference to the stylus as the writing instrument, designing the other parts to meet its requirements. The mimeograph belongs to the stencil class of duplicating machines, which, as is well known, is the best type of such devices. The stencil is made on a sheet of fine specially manufactured tissue paper, which is coated on one side with a film of sensitive material. The cutting agent of the mimeograph is a plate of fine tool steel, upon which are cut intersecting corru gations, numbering 200 to the inch, thus making on the plate a surface of small sharp points, so fine and minute that a magnifying glass is required to bring them distinctly to the eye, upon this steel plate, which is imbedded in a table or plate of polished slate, the svieet of sensitive paper is placed, and the stencil is f1 jrmed by writing on the paper over the steel plate with the stylus, which is made of tempered steel and nickel plated. As the steel point of the stylus ( which is ground to a round or smooth point) passes over the sensitive paper, it presses the paper against and upon the steel plate, and the fine sharp points puncture it from the under side making a series of orifices or holes, each one a two-hundredth part of an inch from the next, in the lines of the writing. The point of the stylus, although tapered to the size of a nicely sharpened lead pencil, really rests on three of the cutting points of the writing plate (as the corrugated steel is termed) at one time. It thus glides easily and smoothly over the rough ened surface without tearing the paper, but still with just enough friction to make the act of writing a pleasant operation, almost identical to that done by a medium hard lead pencil. After the stencil is made, the next operation is to prepare the stencil sheet ( as the sensitive paper is now called) for the purpose of printing copies of which it is the original. The table or plate of slate which embodies the steel writing plate, is known as the base-board of the mimeograph. Connected with this base-board, work ing on pivots, but easily separated from it is a frame of wood, which holds in it a brass frame kept in place by tightening catches. The stencil sheet is placed in the wooden frame, and the brass frame placed over it, and pressed into its slot and then held tht.-e by the tightening catches. This serves to stretch the stencil sheet tight and smooth like a drum head. When this is done, the frame is attached to the base-board, and the mimeo graph is ready for work. The ink is squeezed from its collapsible tube upon a slate used for that purpose and a hand roller made of a peculiar composition is passed over it, spreading the ink evenly over the slate, and at the same time charging the roller. The sheet of paper upon which the copy is to be printed, is placed upon a blotter resting on the base board beneath the stencil sheet, and the ink roller is passed over the stencil sheet, forcing the ink through the perforations and upon the impression paper, thus making a print. This last operation is repeated until the required number of copies are obtained. The modus operandi just described, is for the pur pose of reduplicating autographic matter. Edison's Kinetoscope. Perhaps the simplest statement of the principle, upon which this instrument is constructed, would be to call it the reproduction of motion. The observer looks through a glass into a small cabinet aud appears to see living figures. These may be men, or animals, and they are in action. Just as the phonograph makes a faithful record of sounds, so the kinetoscope gives us a reproduction of the actions of living creatures. The following is what Mr. Edison himself says ot/ the subject: " In the year 1887 the idea occurred to 558 ENCYCLOPEDIA OF VALUABLE INFORMATION. me that it was possible to devise an instrument which should do for the eye what the phonograph does for the ear, and that by a combination of the cwo ali motion and sound could be recorded and reproduced simultaneously. This idea, the germ of which came from the little toy called the zoetrope, and the work of Muybridge, Marie and others, has now been accom plished, so that every change of facial expression can be recorded and reproduced life size. The kinetscope is only a small model illustrating the present stage of progress, but with each succeeding month new possi bilities are brought into view. "I believe that in coming years by my own work and that of others, who will doubtless enter the field, grand opera c.. - be given at the Metropolitan Opera House at New York, without any material change from the original, and with artists and musicians long since dead." After the instrument was perfected the succession of pictures was found to be rapid, and those instru ments exhibited in nearly all our towns are found to work most satisfactorily. Facts About the Sun. THE SUN'S UGHT fo equal to 5,563 wax-candles held at a distance of one foot from the c-o. It would require 800,000 full moons to produce a day as brilliant as one of cloudless Sunshine. THE SUN'S HEAT. The amount of heat we receive annually is sufficient fCr melt a layer of ice thirty-eight yards in thickness, extending over the whole earth. Yet the sunbeam is only 1-300,000 part as intense as it is at the surface of the sun. Moreover, the heat and light stream off into space equally in every direction. Of this vast flood only one twenty-three hundred millionth part reaches the earth. It is said that if the heat of the sun were produced by the burning of coal, it would require a layer ten feet in thickness, extending over the whole sun, to feed the flame a single hour. Were the sun a solid body of coal, it would burn up at this rate in forty-six centuries. Sir John Herschel says that if a solid cylinder of ice forty-five miles in diameter and 200,000 miles long were plunged, end first, into the sun, it would melt in a second of time. THE SUN'S DIMENSIONS. Tts diameter is about 850,000 miles. Let us try to understand this amount by comparison. A mountain upon the surface of the sun, to bear the same proportion to the globe itself as the Dhawalaghiri of the Himalayas does the earth, would have to be about bix hundred miles high. Again : suppose the sun were hollow, and the earth placed at the center, not only would there be room for \'he moon to revolve in its regular orbit within the shell, but that would stretch off in every direction 200,000 miles beyond. Its volume is 1,245 ,000 times that of the earth, that is itwouldtake 1,245,000 earths to make a globe the size of the sun. Its mass is 674 times that of all the rest of the solar system. Its weight may be expressed io tons thus, 1,910,278,070,000,000,0 00,000,000,000, a number which is meaningless to our imagination but yet represents a force of attraction which holds out own earth and all the planets steadily in their places r while it fills the mind with an indescribable awe as we think of that Being w r ho made the sun, and holds it in the very palm of his hand. Facts as to Sound. In air, sound travels from 1,130 to 1,140 feet pel second. In water it passes at the rate of 4,700 feet per second. A bell sounded under water may be heard, under water at 1,200 feet distance. Sounds are distinct at twice the distance on water that they are on land. On Table Mountain, a mile above Cape Town, every- noise in it, and even words may be heard distinctly. Dr. Jatnieson says that in calm weather he heard' every word of a sermon at the distance of two miles.. The sound of a tuning fork may be distinctly heard at a distance of 200 yards, by connecting the stem by- pack-threads with the ear. Type-Writers. Perhaps the earliest form of a type-writer is a rude machine invented in England in 1714, without any, practical fruits. M. Foucault sent to the Paris Exposi tion of 1855, a writing machine for the blind t but the first of what are now popularly known as tvpe-writers, was patented in 1868 by C. L,. Sholcs, of Wisconsin. This has been improved until now it is possible to attain a speed of seventy-five to eighty words a minute in writing with this machine, which is fast enough for reporting speeches. The principal advantages gained are rapidity of execution and legibility. A type-writer can write with both hands and several fingers in instant succession, every letter being made with a single light touch instead of requiring from three to seven distinct strokes and dots, as in ordinary script. Lightning- Conductors. Copper is the best material for conductors. When circumstances are not such as to promote corrosion, iron may be used, but of larger dimensions. Its con ductivity is about one-fifth that of copper. Copper lightning conductors should be of the follow ing dimensions : Rods j4 an inch in diameter; tubes $i of an inch in diameter, *4 of an inch thick, or bands i}4 inches wide, % of an inch thick. Iron lightning conductors should be either solid rods i inch in diameter, or bands * inches wide, ^i of an inch think. IMPORTANT FACTS FOR REFERENCE. 559 Lightning conductors afford protection over a circle tvhose radius equals their height from the ground ; formerly considered twice. Average Annual Rainfall in the United States. Inches. PLACE. Neah Bay, Wash. Ter...i23 Sitka, Alaska 83 Ft. Haskins, Oregon... 66 Mt. Vernon, Alabama.. 66 Baton Rouge, La 60 Meadow Valley, Cal.... 57 Ft. Tonson, Indian Ter. 57 Ft. Myers, Florida 56 Washington, Arkansas. 54 Huntsville, Alabama... 54 Natchez, Mississippi.... 53 New Orleans, La 51 Savannah, Georgia 48 Springdale, Kentucky.. 48 Fortress Monroe, Va... 47 Memphis, Tennessee... 45 Newark, New Jersey... 44 Boston, Massachusetts.. 44 Brunswick, Maine 44 Cincinnati, Ohio 44 New Haven, Conn 44 Philadelphia, Pa 44 Charleston, S. Carolina 43 New York City, N. Y.. 43 Gaston, N. Carolina 43 Richmond, Indiana 43 Marietta, Ohio 43 St. Louis, Mis. iri 43 Muscatine, Iowa 42 Baltimore, Maryland... 41 New Bedford, Mass 41 Providence, R. 1 41 Ft. Smith, Arkansas 40 Inches. Hanover, N. H 40 Ft. Vancouver 38 Cleveland, Ohio 37 Pittsburgh, Pa 37 Washington, D. C 37 White Sulph'r Spgs.,Va.37 Ft. Gibson, Indian Ter._36 Key West, Florida 36 Peoria, Illinois 35 Burlington, Vermont.... 34 Buffalo, New York 33 Ft. Brown, Texas 33 Ft. Leavenworth, Kan... 31 Detroit, Michigan 30 Milwaukee, Wisconsin..3o Penn Yan, New York... 28 Ft. Kearney 25 Ft. Suelling, Minnesota25 SaltLa spoonful of each; follow ARSENIC, with Sweet Oil, Butter or J Milk. " Drink warm water to en- in water. Qpium FOR OIL VITRIOL, ] AQUA FORTIS, I Magnesia or Soap, dio- BI-CARBONATE POTASSA, f- solved in water, every MURIATIC ACID, two minutes. OXALIC ACID J FOR CAUSTIC SODA, CAUSTIC POTASH, VOLATILE ALKALI, ~\ Drink freely of water with > Vinegar or Lemon Juice in Jit- FOR CARBOLIC ACID } %%* Wat 1 Pour cold water over the FOR CHLORAL HYDRATE, ! head and face, with arti- CHLOROFORM, [ ficial respiration, Galvanic J Battery. FOR CARBONATE OF SODA, "| . ^, , . COPPERAS I prom P t Emetic ; Soap or COBALT, ' j Mucilaginous drinks. WrD T iTTT>AxrrTi- 1 Strong Coffee, followed by Ground MORPHJNE Mustard . Gr ^ in warm water w *" f to produce vomiting. Keep in mo- J tion. FOR NITRITE oF SILVER Give common Salt in water. FOR STRYCHNINE, \ Emetic of Mustard or Sulphate of TINCT. NUX VOMICA j Zinc, aided by warm water. Powers of Locomotion of Animals, and Average Velocities of Various Bodies. A man walks A horse trots A horse runs Steamboat runs Sailing vessel runs Slow rivers flow Rapid rivers flow A moderate wind blows A storm moves A hurricane moves A rifle ball moves 1,000 Sound moves 743 Light moves 192,000 miles per second. Electricity moves 288,000 miles per second, Per hour Per Sec. 3 miles, or 4feet 7 or 10 20 18 or or 29 26 10 or H 3 or 4 7 or 10 36 80 IOO or or or or 10 52 117 1,466 43 or 1,142 IMPORTANT FACTS FOR REFERENCE. 563 The Pulse. The natural rate of the pulse varies at different ages as follows : Beats per Minute. At birth 130 140 One year 115 130 Two years 100 115 Three years 95 105 Pour to seven years 85 95 Seven to fourteen years 80 90 Fourteen to twenty-one years 75-- 85 Twenty-one to sixty years 70 75 Old age 75 85 Periods of Digestion. SUBSTANCE. H. M. Rice, boiled I Eggs, whipped, raw i 30 Trout, fresh, fried I 30 Soup, barley, boiled I 30 Apples, sweet, mellow, raw i 30 Venison steak, broiled i 45 Sago, boiled I 45 Tapioca, boiled 2 Barley, boiled 2 Milk, boiled 2 T^iver, beef, fresh, broiled 2 ;,3ggs, fresh, raw ' 2 Apples, sour, mellow, raw 2 Cabbage, with vinegar, raw 2 Milk, raw 2 15 Eggs, fresh, roasted 2 15 Turkey, domestic, roasted 2 30 Goose, wild, roasted 2 30 Cake, sponge, baked 2 30 Hash, warmed 2 30 Beans, pod, boiled 2 30 Parsnips, boiled 2 30 Potatoes, Irish, baked 2 30 Cabbage, head, raw 2 30 Custard, baked 2 45 Apples, sour, hard, raw 2 50 Oysters, fresh, raw 2 55 Eggs, fresh, soft boiled 3 Beefsteak, broiled 3 Mutton, fresh, broiled 3 Mutton, fresh, boiled 3 Soup, bean, boiled 3 Chicken soup, boiled 3 Dumpling, apple, boiled 3 Oysters, fresh, roasted 3 15 Pork, salted, broiled 3 15 Porksteak, broiled 3 15 Mutton, fresh, roasted 3 15 Bread, corn, baked 3 15 Carrot, orange, boiled 3 15 Sausage, fresh, broiled 3 20 Oysters, fresh, stewed 3 30 Butter, melted 3 30 Cheese, old, raw 3 30 Oyster soup, boiled 3 30 Bread, wheat, fresh, baked 3 30 Turnips, flat, boiled 3 30 Potatoes, Irish, boiled 3 30 Eggs, fresh, hard boiled 3 30 Eggs, fresh, fried 3 30 Green corn and beans, boiled 3 45 Beets, boiled 3 45 Salmon, salted, boiled 4 Beef, fried 4 Veal, fresh, broiled 4 Fowls, domestic, boiled 4 Beef, old, salted, boiled 4 i^ Pork, salted, fried 4 15 Pork, salted, boiled 4 30 Veal, fresh, fried 4 30 Cabbage, boiled 4 30 Pork, roasted 5 15 Suet, beef, boiled 5 30 Percentage of Nutrition in Various Articles of Food. Raw Cucumbers 2 Raw Melons 3 Boiled Turnips 4 Milk 7 Cabbage 7 Apples 10 Currants 10 Whipped Eggs 13 Beets 14 Apples 16 Peaches 20 Boiled Codfish 21 Broiled Venison 22 Potatoes 22 Fried Veal 24 Roast Pork 24 Roast Poultry. 26 Raw Beef. 26 Raw Grapes 27 Raw Plums 29 Broiled Mutton 30 Oatmeal Porridge 75 Rye Bread 79 Boiled Beans 87 Boiled Rice 88 Barley Bread 88 Wheat Bread 90 Baked Corn Bread 91 Boiled Barley 92 Butter 92 Boiled Peas 93 Raw Oils 95 Percentage of Alcohol in Various Liquors. Scotch Whisky 54-53 Irish Whisky 53.9 Rum 53-68 Gin 51.6 Brandy 53.39 Burgundy 14-57 Cape Muscat 18.25 Champagne (still) 13.80 Champagne (sp'rkl'g) 12.61 Cider 5.2 109.8 Constantia 19.75 Gooseberry Wine 11.48 Currant Wine 20.50 Port 22.90 Madeira 22.27 Teneriffe T 9-79 Sherry 19-1? Claret 15.1 Elder 8.79 Ale 6.87 Porter 4.02 Malaga 17.26 Rhenish 12.8 Small Beer 1.28 Weight of Eggs. The following table of the weight of eggs per pound of various breeds of fowls and the number of eggs laid in a year is approximately fair, though it may vary under exceptionally adverse or favorable conditions: 5 6 4 ENCYCLOPEDIA OF VALUABLE INFORMATION. Varieties Eggs No ' Eggs Perlb. Per Year. Light Brahmas 7 130 Dark Brahmas 8 130 Partridge Cochins 7 130 Black, White, Buff Cochins 7 120 Plymouth Rocks 8 150 Houdans 8 155 La Fleche 7 135 Creve Cceurs 8 145 Black Spanish 8 155 Leghorns 8 160 Hatnburgs 9 150 Dominiques 8 135 Games , 9 140 Bantams 16 90 Food in an Egg. An egg contains as much nourishment as a pound and an ounce of cherries, a pound and a quarter of grapes, a pound and a half of russet apples, two pounds of gooseberries and four pounds of pears; and 114 pounds of grapes, 127 pounds of russet apples, 192 pounds of pears, and 327 pounds of plums are equal in nourishment to 100 pounds of potatoes. Rules for the Management of Poultry. 1. Good dry houses, well ventilated but void of drafts. 2. Keep your hen houses clean and the floor covered 4'th ashes. 3. Whitewash inside monthly from March ist to October ist. 4. Feed regularly, but never overfeed ; cease feeding when the fowls cease to run for it. 5. Scatter the food on the ground when the weather will permit. 6. Feed mixed grain, or alternate, as corn one day, oats aexl, wheat next, etc. 7. Allow adult fowls freedom as early in the morn ing as they desire. 8. Keep hens with chicks in small coops (well cov ered and dry) until the chicks are three weeks old. 9. Feed chicks morning, noon and afternoon. 10. Mix ground black pepper with the morning food. n. Grease the hens well under the wings, breast and fluff feathers as soon as the chicks are taken off, with ointment made of lard and carbolic acid ; one table- spoonful of lard to ten drops of acid. Box Measures. Farmers and market gardeners will find a series of box measures very useful, and they can readily be made by anyone who understands the two-foot rule and can handle the saw and hammer. The following measure ments, it will be seen, vary slightly from the United States bushel adopted by some of the States, but are ufficiently accurate for a/1 ordinary purposes : A box 16 by i6 l /$ inches square and 8 inches deep will contain a bushel, or 2150.4 cubic inches, each inch in depth holding one gallon. A box 24 by 11.2 inches square and 8 inches deep will also contain a bushel, or 2150.4 cubic inches, each in depth holding i gallon. A box 12 by 11.2 inches square and 8 inches deep will contain half a bushel, or 1075.2 cubic inches, each inch in depth holding half a gallon. A box 8 by 8.4 inches square and 8 inches deep will contain half a peck, or 298.8 cubic inches. The gal lon, dry measure. A box 4 by 4 inches square and 4.2 inches deep will contain I quart, or 67.2 cubic inches. How to Drive Flies from Stables. Scatter chloride of lime on a board in a stable, to remove all kinds of flies, but more especially biting flies. Sprinkling beds of vegetables with even a weak solution, effectually preserves them from caterpillars, slugs, etc. A paste of one part powdered chloride of lime, and a half part of some fatty matter placed in a narrow band round the trunk of the tree, prevents insects from creeping up it. Even rats, mice, cock roaches and crickets flee from it. How to Keep Flies from Horses. Procure a bunch of smartweed and bruise it to cause the juice to exude. Rub the animal thoroughly with the bunch of bruised weed, especially on the legs, neck and ears. Neither flies or other insects will trouble him for twenty-four hours. The process should be repeated every day. A very convenient way of using it is, to make a strong infusion by boiling the weed a few minutes in water. When cold it can be conveni ently applied with a sponge or brush. Smartweed is found growing in every section of the country, usually on wet ground near highways. A Rule for Determining the Weight of Live Cattle by Measurement. There are many rules for estimating the weight of cattle by measurement, but one of the authorities on the subject says that "There is no rule that comes nearer than good guessing," and that no two animals will weigh alike according to measurement. The same authority further remarks that a rule, as good as any, is to find the superficial feet by multiplying the girth, just behind the shoulder-blade, by the length from the fore part of the shoulder blade to the root of the tail. Thus an ox girthing seven feet nine inches, and measuring six feet in length, would contain seven and three-fourths times six or 46^ superficial feet. For cattle, grass fed, the following is given as the weight per superficial foot : Girth less than 3 feet n pounds, Girth 3 to 5 feet .16 pounds. IMPORTANT FACTS FOR REFERENCE. 565 Cow Bear 20 2O Deer 2O Pie's ... 2O Cat ..I 1 ? Fox .. I"? DOS'... 2O Sheep 10 Rabbit 7 Snuirrel... , 8 Girth 5 to 7 feet 23 pounds. Girth 7 to 9 feet 31 pounds. Thus the steer, as per above measurements, should weigh 46.50 by 31, or 1,441 pounds, gross. Under this rule it is usual to deduct one pound in twenty on half- fatted cattle, from fifteen to twenty pounds on a cow having had calves, and if not fat an equal amount. The author of this rule suggests its use only when the scale is wanting, as the scale is the only true standard. Years of Age which various Animals Attain. Whale 1,000 Elephant 400 Swan 300 Tortoise loo Eagle loo Raven loo Camel loo Lion 70 Porpoise 30 Horse 25 to 30 How to Tell the Age of a Horse by his Teeth. At three years old the horse should have the central permanent nippers growing, the other two pairs wast ing, six grinders in each jaw above and below, the first and fifth level, the others and the sixth protruding. The sharp edges of the new incisors will be very evi dent, compared with the old teeth. As the permanent nippers wear and continue to grow, a narrow portion of the cone-shaped tooth is exposed by the attrition of the teeth on each other. The mark will be wearing out, and the crowns of the teeth will be sensibly smaller than at two years. Between three and a half and four years the next pair of nippers will be changed, the central nippers will have attained nearly their full growth, a vacuity will be left where the second stood, and the corner teeth will be diminished in breadth, worn down, and the mark in the centre of the tooth will become faint. The second pair of grinders will be shed. At four years the central nippers will be fully developed, the sharp edge somewhat worn off, and the mark somewhat wider and fainter. The next pair will be up, but they will be small, with a mark deep and extending quite across them. The corner nippers will be larger than the inside ones, but smaller than before and flat, and the mark nearly effaced. The sixth grinders will have risen to a level with the others, and the tushes will begin to appear. At five the horse's mouth is almost perfect. The corner nippers are quite up, the long, deep mark irregular in the inside, and the other nippers will bear evident tokens of increased wear. The tushes are nearly grown, the sixth molar is up, and the third molar is wanting. This last circumstance will prevent the deception of attempting to pass a late four-year old as a five-year-old. At six the uark on the central nippers is worn out. At seven the mark is worn out in the four central nippers, and fast wearing way in the corner teeth. The tushes are rounded at the points and edges, and beginning to get round inside. At eight years old the tushes are rounded in every way, the mark is gone from all the bottom nippers. There is nothing remaining in them that can afterward clearly show the age of a horse. After this the only guides are the nippers in the upper jaw. At nine the mark will be worn from the middle nippers, from the next pair at ten, and from all the upper nippers at eleven. At nine the centre nippers are round instead of oval. At ten the others begin to become rounded, at eleven the second pair are much rounded, at thirteen the cor ner ones have the same appearance, at fourteen the faces of the centre nippers become somewhat triangu lar, at seventeen they are all so. Food for Stock. The following table shows the number of pounds of various products, used as food for stock, which are equivalent in value to 10 pounds of good hay : FOOD. POUNDS. Barley 5 to 6 Cabbage 20 to 30 Carrots, red 25 to 30 Carrots, white 40 to 45 Clover, green 45 to 50 Indian corn 5 to 7 Mangel-wurzel 301035 Oats 4 to 7 Oil Cake 2 to 4 FOOD. POUNDS. Peas and Beans 3 to 5 Potatoes 20 to 25 Straw, barley 20 to 40 Straw, oat 20 to 40 Straw, pea 10 to 15 Straw, wheat 40 to 50 Turnips 45 to 50 Wheat 5 to 7 Vitality of Seeds. The table shows the limit of time beyond which the seeda of the common garden vegetables become useless for sowing. Beans 2 years Onion i year Beets 7 years Parsnip i year Cabbage 4 years Peas 2 years Carrot. . . 2 years Radish 3 years Celery 2 years Squash 10 years Cucumber 10 years Sweet Corn 2 years Lettuce 3 years Tomato 7 years IVtelon 10 vears Tnrnir> .. A vpara Quantity of Seeds Required per Acre. Wheat i l /2 to 2 bu ] "Rppf-s 7 lb Rve i V-> Carrots 2 Oats 3 Rutabaga ^ " Millet Y* be Barley 2 Peas 2 to 3 Clover, white.4 qts Clover, red 8 Timothy 6 Orchard grass 2 bu Red top i to 2 pks White beans.... i ^ Buckwheat Y* Corn, bro'dc'st 4 Corn, in drills..2 to 3 Corn, in hills. ..4 to 8 qts Broom corn Y* bu Potatoes 10 to is " Blue grass 2 bu Mix'dlawngri to 2 " Tobacco 2 oz 566 ENCYCLOPEDIA OF VALUABLE INFORMATION. Hills in an Acre of Ground. 40 feet apart. 27 hills 8 feet apart 35 30 35 20 15 12 10 35 . 48 69 .108 193 .302 435 ... 680 hills ... 1,210 1,732 - 3,556 ... 4,840 ... 6,969 ...10,890 ...43,560 Comparative Yield of Various Grains, Vegetables and Fruits. Lbs. per acre 442 Lbs. per acre Grass 7,000 Carrots 6,800 Potatoes 7,500 Apples 8,000 Turnips 8,420 Cinque foil grass 9,600 Vetches, green 9,800 Cabbage 10,900 Parsnips 11,200 Mangel Wurzel 22,000 Hops ... Wheat 1,260 Barley 1,600 Oats 1,840 Peas 1,920 Beans 2,000 Plums 2,000 Cherries 2,000 Onions 2,800 Hay 4,000 fears 5,ooo Hay Measure. About 500 cubic feet of well-settled hay, or about 700 of new mown hay, will make a ton. To estimate mount of hay in s, mow Ten cubic yards of meadow hay weigh a ton. When the hay is taken out of old Stacks, 8 or 9 yards will make a ton. Eleven or twelve cubic yards of clover, when dry, will make a ton. How Grain will Shrink. Farmers rarely gain by holding on to their grain after it is fit for market, when the shrinkage is taken into account. Wheat, from the time it is threshed, will shrink two quarts to the bushel, or 6 per cent, in six months, in the most favorable circumstances. Hence, it follows that 94 cents a bushel for wheat when first threshed in August, is as good, taking into account the shrinkage alone, as $i in the following February. Corn shrinks much more from the time it is first husked. One hundred bushels of ears, as they come from the fields in November, will be reduced to not far from eighty. So that forty cents a bushel for corn in the ear, as it comes from the field, is as good as fifty in March, shrinkage only being taken into account. In the case of potatoes taking those that rot and are otherwise lost together with the shrinkage, there is but little doubt that between October and June the loss to the owner who holds them is not less than 33 per cent. This estimate is taken on the basis of interest at 7 per cent., and takes no account of loss by vermin. Weight of Men and Animals. The average weight of 20,000 men and women, weighed at Boston, Mass., in 1864, was men 141^ Ibs; women, 124^ Ibs. Acrowdof people closely packed = 85 Ibs. per sup. ft. The average weight of a man = 140 Ibs. 6 oz., 01 about fifteen men to a ton. A strong cart horse = 14 cwt., and a cavalry horse = 11 cwt. An ox = 7 to 8 cwt. Cow, 6% to 8 cwt. A pig = i to 1)4 cwt., and a sheep = $ to iX cwt. The Proportion of Good Meat in a Weil-Fed Beef Animal Compared with Its Live Weight. Sixty pounds of dressed beef for each 100 pounds of live weight is considered a fair average, and indi cates that the animal was a good stock in first-rate marketable condition. Of course the choice cuts, con sisting of ribs, sirloin, and rump steaks, constitute only about half of this. So that an animal which weighs i ,000 pounds live weight will produce but about 600 pounds of dressed meat, of which the choice cuts will amount to about 310 pounds and the " coarse meat " to 290 pounds. Contents of Cisterns. To find the number of gallons contained in a cistern, multiply the length, width and depth together, all in feet. This will give the contents in cube feet, which multiply by 6.24, and the product will be the number of gallons. If the dimensions are in inches, use .003607 in place of 6.24. Two dimensions of a cistern being given to find the third, to contain a given number of gallons, multiply the required number of gallons by .16046, if the dimen sions are in feet, or by 277,274, if the dimensions are in inches, and divide the result by the product of the two given dimensions. The quotient will be the third dimension required. Wood Measure. To find the contents of cord wood. Multiply the length, width and height together and divide the pro duct by 128. Wood for Fuel. In regard to the relative values of wood as heat pro ducers, different woods vary some by different meth ods of experimenting. The most accurate would be their value as steam producers. The following test was made from a fire tubular, horizontal boiler: Shellbark Hickory 100 Pignut Hickory 95 White Oak 84 White Ash 77 Dogwood 75 Shrub Oak 73 White Hazel 72 Apple Tree 70 Red Oak 67 White Beech 65 Yellow Oak 60 Hard Maple 59 White Elm 58 Red Cedar 56 Wild Cherry 55 Yellow Pine 54 Chestnut 52 Yellow Poplar 51 Butternut 43 White Birch 43 White Pine 39 These figures are from air-dried wood. No accurate result could be obtained from green wood, as it is not IMPORTANT FACTS FOR REFERENCE. 567 to a proper condition, and would vary considerably from any figures that might be made. How to Measure Circles and Globes. To find the circumference of a circle, multiply the iiameter by 3. 1416. To find the area of a circle, multiply the square of he diameter by .7854. To find the surface of a globe, multiply the square of he diameter by 3.1416. To find the solidity of a globe, multiply the cube of (he diameter by .5236. Seasoning and Preserving Timber. For the purpose of seasoning, timber should be piled under shelter, where it may be kept dry, but not exposed to a strong current of air. At the same time, there should be a free circulation of air about the tim ber, with which a few slats or blocks of wood should be placed between the pieces that lie over each other, near enough to prevent the timber from bending. In the sheds the pieces of timber should be piled in fhis way or in square piles, and classed according to age and kind. Each pile should be distinctly marked with the number and kind of pieces and the age or the date of receiving them. The piles should betaken down and made over again at intervals, varying with the length of time which the timber has been cut. The seasoning of timber requires from two to four years, according to its size. Gradual drying and seasoning in this manner is con sidered the most favorable to the durability and strength of timber, but various methods have been prepared for hastening the process. For this purpose , steaming and boiling timber has been applied with success. Kiln drying is serviceable only for boards and pieces of small dimensions, and is apt to cause cracks and to impair the strength of wood, unless performed very slowly. Timber of large dimension is improved by immer sion in water for some weeks, according to its size, after which it is less subject to warp and crack in steam ing. Oak timber loses about one-fifth of its weight in seasoning, and about one-third of its weight in be coming dry. Grain Measure. To find the capacity of a bin or wagon bed, multiply the cubic feet by .8 (tenths). For great accuracy, add y$ of a bushel for every 100 cubic feet. Ear Corn Measure. To find the contents of a corn crib, multiply the cnbic feet by 4 and divide the product by 9. Land Measure. To find the number of acres in a body of land, mul tiply the length by the width (in rods) and divide the aroduct by 160. When the opposite sides are unequal, add them and take half the sum for the mean length width. Wells. To ascertain the quantity of water in a well, take hal: the circumference and multiply by half the diameter ; multiply the result by the depth, which gives the cubic measures, then reckon 6 gal. and i pt. to the cube foot* How to Mix Paints for Colors. Buff. Mix together- Chestnut " Chocolate " Claret... " Copper.. " Dove " Drab " Fawn " Flesh " Freestone " French Gray " Gray " Gold " Green Bronze'* Lemon .. " Limestone " Olive.... " Orange.. " Peach ... " Pearl Purple... " Rose " Sandstone " Snuff..... Violet... -White, Yellow Ochre, Red. Red, Black, Yellow. Raw Umber, Red, Black. Red, Umber, Black, Red, Yellow, Black. White, Vermilion, Blue, Yel. White, Yel. Ochre, Red, Black, White, Yellow, Red. White, Yel. Ochre, Vermilion. Red, Black, Yel. Ochre, Verm^ White, Prussian Blue, Lake. White Lead, Black. White, Stone Ochre, Red. Chrome Green, Black, Yellow, White, Chrome Yellow. White, Yel. Ochre, Black, Red Yellow, Blue, Black, White. Yellow and Red. White and Vermilion. White, Black, Blue. Violet, with more Red & White White, Madder Lake. White, Yel. Ochre, Black, Red Yellow, Vandyke Brown. Red, Blue and White. EXCELLENT INTEREST RULES. For finding the interest on any principal for any number of days. The answer in each case being in cents, separate the two right-hand figures of answer to express in dollars and cents : Four per cent. Multiply the principal by the num ber of days to run ; separate right-hand figure frott product, and divide by 9. Five per cent. Multiply by number of days, and di vide by 72. Six per cent. Multiply by number of days, separate right-hand figure, and divide by 6. Eight per cent. Multiply by number of days, and divide by 45. Nine per cent. Multiply by number of days, sepa rate right-hand figure, and divide by 4. Ten per cent. Multiply by number of days, and di vide by 36. Twelve per cent. Multiply by number of days, sep arate right-hand figure, and divide by 3. 568 ENCYCLOPEDIA OF VALUABLE INFORMATION. Fifteen per cent. Multiply by number of days, and divide by 44. Eighteen per cent. Multiply by number of days, separate right-hand figure, and divide by 2, Twenty per cent. Multiply by number oi days, and divide by 18. Twenty-four per cent. Multiply by number of days, and divide by 15. The Best Interest Rule Extant. To find the interest on any amount, at any rate per cent., for any length of time : 1st. Reduce time to run en interest to months and tenths of a month. To find the number of tenths of a month divide the number of days over a month by three and add to the number of months the tenths in decimal form. 2d. Move the decimal point between dollars and cents in the principal two places to the left, divide this amount by twelve and multiply by the rate per cent.; multiply this amount by the number of months, as found above, and the product will be the answer. EXAMPLE. $144.00 @ 4% per cent., for I year, 7 months and 21 days. I year, 7 months and 21 days equals 19.7 months. At 4-K Per Cent. ^2)1. 44 .12 4 ^ rate of interest. .54 rate for I month. 19.7 months. 378 486 54 $10.63. 8=Ans. $10.63.8, At 5 Per Cent. 12)1.44 .12 5 rate of interest, .60 rate for I month, 19.7 months. 420 540 60 $u.82.o=Ans. $11.82. Interest Tables. I PER CENT. $ i.oo 0000277 .0001939 lo.oo 000277 OOI 939 100.00 00277 OI 939 1,000 oo 0277 .1939 5 PER CENT. $ i.oo 0001385 .00097 10.00 001385 .0097 loo.oo... .o 01385 .097 1,000.00...., 1385 .97 6 PER CENT. I i.oo 0001662 .001163 10.00 001662 .01163 loo.oo 01662 .1163 1,000.00 1662 1.163 One One Month. Year, .000833 .01 .00833 .IO .0833 $ I.OO .833 IO.OO .00416 05 .0416 50 .416 $ 5.00 4.l6 50.00 .005 .06 05 .60 .50 $ 6.00 5-00 60.00 Short Method to Calculate Interest RULE. Multiply the principal by half the number of days ', that product divided by 30 will give the answer in cents. EXAMPLE. What is the interest on $165 for 16 days at 6 pe* cent.? 165 dollars, 8 half the number of days. 3.0) 132.0 44 cents. Divisors for Different Rates per cent Any amount multiplied by the time in days, as pet example : $200 for 19 days, and divide by 72, will give you the interest at 5 per cent, per annum. Answer, $.52.7 At 6 per cent, as above, divide by 60 9 10 12 15 20 24 40 52 45 40 36 30 24 18 15 09 A Period of Heavy Interest. When Franklin Pierce became President the public debt aggregated $69,129,937.27, and later was increased by $2,500,000 to liquidate the debt of Texas. In No vember, 1856, this had been reduced to $30,963,909.64. There was a considerable sum due to the Indian tribes, growing out of the extinction of their title to the public lands. In 1856 this amounted to $21,066,501.36, and was payable at different times. The reduction oi the public debt was so rapid that the Government parted the next year with a portion of its revenue. Then came the financial crisis of 1857. The national income speedily decreased, and the public credit like wise declined. After much trouble and great financial distress, money had to be borrowed to meet current obligations. The $20,000,000 Treasury notes issued *n December, 1857, payable in a year, could not be me: when they matured. The Government tried to float enough of the stock to meet the Treasury notes that would fall due in January, 1861. Finally, Congress authorized the issue of $10,000,000 of Treasury notes in lieu of $11,000,000, redeemable at the end of one year, and bearing 6 per cent, interest until called foi redemption. The Secretary of the Treasury, was, how ever, authorized to issue them, after advertisement, at such rates of interest as might be offered by the lowest responsible bidders. Notes were soon afterward issued under this act. IMPORTANT FACTS FOR REFERENCE. 569 Interest Tames. Table Showing- How Many Days a Note lias to 1 J im. The following table will be found very useful to book keepers in calculating the number of days a note has to run ~% $T $ $3 $4 $5 $6 $7 $8 $9 $10 $100 $1000 12 '' 16 " 20 ' ',3 I MO. 2 " 3 " 6 " I YR. O O O o I 2 4 o o o o o o o 2 2 J o o o I X X 2 3 6 12 o o o I X X 2 3 i 16 o I X 2 2 2 4 5 IO 20 o o X X a 2 2 2 12 24 o o X I 2 2 2 3 5 7 M 28 o I 3 2 2 3 1 8 16 32 o X X 2 2 3 3 1 36 o X 2 2 2 3 3 4 7 10 20 40 5 9 J 4 i3 22 27 31 I 4 6 7 I.OO 2.00 4.00 n 1.34 1.78 2.22 2.67 i'l 4 6.67 10. OO 20.00 40.00 FROM C-, p I sj p f I - T( JB ) s I o p 8 f F January 365 334 306 275 31 365 59 90 59 31 12(1 89 151 120 181 150 212 181 243 212 273 242 304 273 334 306 February 2S March 337 306 365 61 92 122 153 122 184 214 245 275 244 April 334 365 30 61 91 153 183 214 May 245 214 276 304 335 304 2T4 365 31 61 92 123 153 184 214 245 273 334 365 30 61 92 122 153 183 5% $1 $3 $3 $4 $5 $6 $7 $8 $9 XO $100 $1000 July 184 215 243 304 335 365 334 31 02 93 123 153 153 122 92 184 212 MS 273 304 365 31 61 92 122 91 4 DAY 8 " 12 " 16 20'" 24 ' 1 MO. 2 | K YR. o o o o I 2 3 5 o o o o X X 2 3 s 10 o o X X X 2 3 i is o o o X X 2 2 2 4 5 IO 20 o o X X 2 2 2 a t 13 25 o I a 2 2 3 3 S 7 15 30 X X 2 2 3 3 I 35 o I 2 2 2 3 3 4 7 10 20 40 o X 2 2 3 3 4 XI 23 45 O X 2 2 3 4 4 4 9 13 25 5 6 II 17 22 28 34 39 42 84 t.2 5 2.50 5 oo 56 X.IX 1.67 2.22 2.28 3-34 3-39 4.17 8-34 12.50 25.00 50.00 September 153 181 212 242 272 303 334 365 30 61 31 October 123 151 182 212 243 273 304 335 365 61 November 61 92 120 151 181 212 242 273 304 334 365 335 30 365 December 31 62 90 121 15? 182 212 243 274 304 The above table g tween any day in a month. To ascert along the line deslg hand, until It reach at the top, by the m figures at the angle of the respective m the note matures, a month from which Example. A not count on March lot Ing before maturity The figures at t Add date of not Deduct date Days to run Coining 1 Press The/e are ten ives the n ly nxmth ain these na ted by t es Its inter onth in w denote th jntbs. To nd from th t is reckon 3 falling di a ; wanted tie angle g e's maturtt of dlscoui imber of days Intervening be- to a similar date in any other Intervening days, run the eye tie of the month on the left section by the column headed. iich the note matures, and the ; number of days from the first this add the day upon which, e sum substract the date of the ed. le June 26th is offered for dla- the number of days Intervtn- ve ... .. 92 6% $1 $2 $3 $4 $5 $6 $7 $8 $9 $10 $100 $1000 4 DAY 8 " K " 16 " X MO. 2 " 1- X V?*" o I I 2 O O o X X 2 12 o o X X 2 3 5 o o X X X 7 13 20 27 50 I.OO 1.50- t.oo .00 67 1.33 2-00 9.67 5 oo IO OO 15.00 30.00 6000 X X 2 12 24 X X 3 IS 30 X 2 1 36 X 2 4 7 IX 21 2 2 i 12 2 4 48 2 2 5 9 27 54 2 3 5 10 15 3 60 it . 118 10 108 ses at the Philadelphia Mint. Coining presses, each one capable o Money at the Philadelphia Mint. The first money coined by the authority of the United States was in 1793. The coins first made were copper cents. In the following year (1794) silver dol lars were made. Gold eagles were made in 1795. The machinery as well as the metal first used was imported, and great trouble was experienced in procuring a supply of copper. The first copper used by the Mint came from England. On December 8, 1848, the first deposit of gold from California was received. The largest nugget of gold ever brought to the Mint came from California in 1852, and was worth nearly six thousand dollars in gold. The sweepings of the rooms in the Mint have some times proved to be worth $50,000 in one year. Up to the year 1857, the base coin of the United \States was exclusively copper. In this year the coin age of what was called the nickel cents was commenced. These pieces, although called nickel, were composed of one-eighth nickel, the balance being copper. Since the first coinage of nickel money, the pieces have changed two or three times, both in design and mixture. making from seventy to one hundred and twenty coins per minute. They are seldom run at a greater speed than eighty per minute. If each press in the room was run at its greatest capacity, and engaged in making double eagles ($20), in the short space of one minute we should have the astonishing sum of $34,000 manu factured. Only the largest presses are used in making coins of large denomination. The small presses are used for base coins and the smaller denominations of silver pieces. The amount of pressure necessary to making a perfect coin is from twenty to eighty tons, The larger the piece the more pressure is required. The deviation of a hair's breadth would spoil the coin. The impressions on both sides of the coin are made with one motion of the press. A steel die, whereon the characters to be placed en the coin have been en graved or dug out, is fastened by means of screws, on to what is called a " stake," and placed below or on the bed of the press. It is set about the thickness of the coin below the surface, and is surrounded by a "collar." It makes no material difference whether the obverse or reverse of the coin is below, although the latter is generally placed there. On a portion of the machine made to receive it, working directly over the lower die, the obverse die is fixed, and on this portion the pressure is regulated. ENCYLOPEDIA OF VALUABLE INFORMATION. A TABLE OF WAGES, Showing Amounts from One Hour to One Week, $2 to $25. BAYS $2, $3.50 $3. $3.60 $4, $4.50 $5. $5.50 $8, $6.50 $7. |$7.60 $8, $8.50 $9. $9.50 $1& "~T 8 11 13 15 17 19 21 23 25 27 29 31 33 35 88 40 42 1 17 21 25 29 33 38 42 46 60 54 58 63 67 71 75 79 83 i 25 31 38 44 60 56 63 69, 75 81 88 94 1.00 1.06 1.13 1.19 1.25 i 33 42 50 68 67 75 83 92 1.00 1.08 1.17 1.25 1.33 1.42 1.50 1.58 1.67 u 42 52 63 73 83 94 1.04 1.15 1.25 1.35 1.46 1.56 1.67 1.87 1.88 1.98 2.08 n 50 63 75 88 1.00 1.13 1.25 1.38 1.50 1.63 1.75 1.88 2.00 2.18 2.25 2.38 2.50 i* 68 73 88 1.02 1.17 1.31 1.46 1.60 1.75 1.90 2.04 2.19 2.33 2.48 2.63 2.77 2.92 2 67 83 1.00 1.17 1.33 1.50 1.67 1.83 2.00 2.17 2.33 2.50 2.67 2.83 8.00 3.17 3.33 2* 75 94 1.13 1.31 1.50 1.69 1.87 2.06 2.25 2.44 2.63 2.81 3.00 3.19 3.37 3.56 3.75 2i 83 1.04 1.25 1.46 1.67 1.87 2.08 2.29 2.50 2.71 2.92 3.13 3.33 3.54 3.75 3.96 4.17 2* 92 1.15 1.38 1.60 1.83 2.06 2.29 2.52 2.75 2.98 3.21 3.44 3.67 3.90 4.13 4.35 4.58 3 1.00 1.25 1.60 1.75 2.00 2.25 2.50 2.75 3.00 3.25 3.50 3.75 4.00 4.25 4.50 4.75 5.00 8* 1.08 1.35 1.62 1.90 2.17 2.44 2.71 2.98 3.25 3.62 3.79 4.06 4.33 4.60 4.88 5.15 5.42 8i 1.17 1.46 1.75 2.04 2.33 2.63 2.92 3.21 3.50 3.79 4.08 438 4.67 4.96 5.25 5.54 2.83 8* 1.25 1.56 1.88 2.19 2,50 2.81 3.13 3.44 3.75 4.06 4.37 4.69 5.00 5.31 5.62 5.94 6.25 4 1.33 1.67 2.00 2.33 2.67 3.00 3.33 3.67 4.00 4.33 4.67 5.00 5.33 5.67 6.00 6.33 6.67 4* 1.42 1.77 2.13 2.48 2.83 3.19 3.54 3.90 4.25 4.60 4.96 6,31 5.67 6.02 6.37 6.73 7.08 4* 1.50 L87 2.25 2.63 3.00 3.27 3.75 4.13 4.50 4.88 5.25 5.63 6.00 6.37 6.75 7.13 7.49 4* 1.58 1.98 2.37 2.77 3.17 3.56 3.96 4.35 4.75 5.15 5.54 5.94 6.33 6.73 7.13 7.53 7.92 5 1.67 2.08 2.50 2.92 3.33 3.75 4.17 4.58 5.00 5.42 5.83 6.25 6.67 7.08 7.50 7.92 8.33 6* 1.75 2.19 2.63 3.06 3.50 3.94 4.38 4.81 5.25 5.68 6.13 6.56 7.00 7.44 7.88 8.31 8.76 6i 1.83 2.29 2.75 3.21 3.67 4.13 4.58 5.04 5.50 5.95 6.42 6.88 7.33 7.79 8.25 8.71 9.17, 6* 1.92 2.40 2.88 3.35 3.83 4.31 4.79 5.27 5.75 6.22 6.71 7.19 7.67 8.15 8.63 ^.10 9.63 6 2.00 2.50 3.00 3.50 4.00 4.50 5.00 5.50 6.00 6.50 7.00 7.50 8.00 8.50 9.00 6.50 10.0 nour 3 4 6 6 7 7 8 9 10 11 12 12 13 14 15 16 IT DAYS. $11 $12 $13 $14 $15 | $16 $17 $18 $19 $20 $21 $22 $23 $25 !i 46 60 64 68 63 67 71 75 79 84 88 92 96 1.06 92 1.00 1.08 1.17 1.25 1.33 1.42 1.50 1.57 1.67 1.75 1.83 1.92 2.13 1.37 1.60 1.62 1.78 1.88 2.00 2.12 2.25 2.36 2.41 2.63 2.75 2.88 3.19 1 1.83 2.00 2.17 2.33 2.50 2.67 2.83 3.00 3.17 3.33 3.50 3.67 3.83 4.17 It 2.29 2.50 2.71 2.92 3.13 3.33 3.54 3.75 3.96 4.17 4.37 4.58 4.79 5.21 a i 2.75 3.00 3.25 3.50 3.75 4.00 4.25 4.50 4.75 5.00 5.25 5.50 5.75 6.25 if 3.21 3.50 3.79 4.08 4.38 4.67 4.96 5.25 5.54 6.83 6.13 6.42 6.71 7.29 2 3.67 4.00 4.33 4.67 6.00 5.33 6.67 6.00 6.33 6.67 7.00 7.33 7.67 8.33 2* 4.13 4.50 4.87 6.25 6.63 6.00 6.38 6.75 7.12 7.60 7.87 8.25 8.62 9.37 *i 4.58 6.00 5.42 5.83 6.25 6.67 7.08 7.50 7.92 8.33 8.75 9.17 9.58 10.42 2J 5.04 5.50 6.96 6.42 6.88 7.33 7.79 8.25 8.71 9.17 9.63 10.08 10.54 11.46 8 5.50 6.00 6.50 7.00 7.50 8.00 8.50 9.00 9.50 10.00 10.50 11.00 11.50 12.50 Si SI 6.96 6.42 6.50 7.00 7.04 7.68 7.58 8.17 8.13 8.75 8.67 9.33 9.21 9.92 9.75 10.50 10.29 11.08 10.83 11.67 11.37 12.25 11.92 12.83 12.46 13.42 13.54 14.58 8* 6.88 7.50 8.13 8.75 9.38 10.00 10.63 11.25 11.88 12.50 13.13 13.75 14.37 15.62 4 7.33 8.00 8.67 9.33 10.00 10.67 11.33 12.00 12.67 13.33 14.00 14.67 15.33 16.67 4* 7.79 8.50 9.21 9.92 10.63 11.33 12.04 12.75 13.46 14.17 14,87 15.58 16.29 17.71 4i 8.25 9.00 9.75 10.60 11.25 12.00 12.75 13.50 14.25 15.00 15.75 16.50 17.25 18.75 4* 8.71 9.50 10.29 11.08 11.88 12.67 13.46 14.25 15.04 15.83 16.63 17.42 18.21 19.79 5 9.f7 10.00 10.83 11.67 12.60 13.33 14.17 15.00 15.83 16.67 17.50 18.33 19.17 20.83 6* 9.63 10.50 11.37 12.25 13.13 14.00 14.88 15.75 16.62 17.50 18.37 19.25 20.12 21.87 6i 10.08 11.00 11.92 12.83 13.75 14.67 15.58 16.50 17.42 18.33 19.25 20.17 21.08 22.92 61 10.54 11.50 12.46 13.42 14.38 15.33 16.29 17.25 18.21 19.17 20.13 21.08 22.04 23.96 6 11.00 12.00 13.00 14.00 15.00 16.00 17.00 18.00 19.00 20.00 21.00 22.00 23.00 25.00 Psr Hour 18 20 22 23 25 27 28 30 32 33 35 37 38 42 IMPORTANT FACTS FOR REFERENCE. BOARD BY THE WEEK. Showing the rates per day from two dollars to twelve dollars per week. 571 &. $2 $2.50 $3 $3.50 $4 $4.50 $5 $550 $6 *$8.BO 1 29 36 43 50 57 64 71 79 86 93 2 67 71 86 1.00 1.14 1.29 1.43 1.57 1.71 1.86 3 86 1.07 1.29 1.50 1.71 1.93 2.14 2.36 2.57 2.79 4 1.14 1.43 1.71 2.00 2.29 2.57 2.86 3.14 3.43 3.71 6 1.43 1.79 2.14 2.50 2.86 3.21 3.57 3.93 4.29 4.64 6 1.71 2.14 2.57 3.00 3.43 3.86 4.29 4.71 5.14 5.57 7 2.00 2.50 3.00 3.50 4.00 4.50 5.00 5.50 6.00 6.50 \0ays $7 $7.60 $8 $8.50 $9 $9.50 $10 $10,50 $11 $12 1 1.00 1.07 1.14 1.21 1.29 1.36 1.43 1.50 1.57 1.71 2 2.00 2.14 2.29 2.43 2.57 2.71 2.86 3.00 3.14 3.43 3 3.00 3.21 3.43 3.64 3.86 4.07 4.29 4.50 4.71 5.14 4 4.00 4.29 4.57 4.86 5.14 5.43 5.71 6.00 6.29 6.8ft 6 5.00 5.36 5.71 6.07 6.43 6.79 7.14 7.50 7.86 8.57 6 6.00 6.43 6.86 7.29 7.71 8.14 8.57 9.00 9.43 10.29 7 7.00 7.50 8.00 8.50 9.00 9.50 10.00 10.50 11.00 12.00 LEGAL, WEIGHT OF A BUSHEL, IN DIFFERENT STATES.* Arkansas ..... Arizona California .... Colorado TTonncctlcut ...... Dakota Delaware . District Columbia Georgia Illinois Indiana........... . Iowa ! 'Kansas Kentucky 'Louisiana (Maine Maryland Massachusetts ... Michigan _...... Minnesota ........ Missouri 1 Montana.... Nebraska Nevada. ._ New Hampshire- New Jersey... INewYork North Carolina ... Ohio Oregon .. Pennsylvania Rhode Island South Carolina . 'Tennessee ........ Vermont ..< 'Virginia "Washington Ter. . West Virginia. "Wisconsin .60. .80. .60. -50.. 60- Tur- nip. .-.60- .60. -46 Dried apple.. Drtod peach- Iba. ..58.. Blue. grass Med. ItM. ..14.. ..60- cite. lb*. .80- .60. ..60. ..60. .60. .46. ..58- .JSO.. -46II -57- -50- .00. .60- 60- -60- -60- .60- ..60- .60- ,-60.. ..60- -60- -58 .-60. .60. ..60. ..60. ..60. ..60. ..60. .60. ..60.. ..60- .-60.. ..60.. ..60- ,.60. ..60. ,.60. .60. .32. 70- -50.. ..50 -46- -60.. -00.. -.80.. .00. .48. .48. .48. -48- -42-, -52- -62- ..53 -40- .30. 32. -48- -50 ..50.. -48- .-58- 5tJ- -58- -5- -54- -58- -58- -56- .70. ITO". .70. .70. .TO. '.m. TO -50 . -48- -50- -50- -50- IIsoII ."50- ..60- ..80. .60. ..60. .60. ..60. ..60. .60. ..60. ..60. !Ie6I .60. ..58. ,.60. ..60. ..60. ..60. ..60. ..50. .-60. ..60. 54.. 50- .50. Is. .50. -60.. -60- .60- leo- -25. -24. -24. ,.38. ..33. -58- -58- -56- -14.. -14- ..14- ..14.. -60- ..60. -60. -60.. -60.. -60.. .50- -50- -50.. -50- -50- -60 ..60.. -60.. -60- -60- .eo- -60.. .60- .60- .60.. .60- .50-. .60- .60- -60- -60- .60.. -28- -26- 128- -28 ..28. .28. .33.. -28- ae. -68.. '.&.'. 44- 66- .45. .40. -14- -14- -14- -14.. -'14.. ..14. . -14..- -64- -66".. ."leo" -60.. ..60.. -64. -60. -64. ..60. -60. ..60- -60" -60- ..60- -60- -60- -80 Some States, not here mentioned, only legalize and recognize. the Standard United States bushel, without reference to weight. Value of Rare American Coins. Dollar The rarest of all is that of 1804, price $400 to $500, according to condition. Half-dollar That of 1796, with sixteen stars, price $20 to $27.50, although thai of 1796, with only fifteen stars, and that of 1797, each command nearly the same premium, $20 to $25. Quarter-dollar Those of 1823 and 1827, each quoted at $15 to $25. Dime That of 1804, quoted at $4 to $6. Half-dime That of 1802, worth $25 to $40. The rarest of all the cents is that of 1799, quoted at $4 to $6, Half- cent 1796, worth $5 to $8, or from one thousand to sixteen hundred per cent, more than its face. 572 ENCYCLOPEDIA OF VALUABLE INFORMATION. WEIGHTS AND MEASURES. MEASURES OF WEIGHT. A voirdupois; z6 drams equal z ounce : 16 ounces z pound ; 112 pounds z hundred weight ; 20 hundred weight z ton. Tray: 24 grains equal z penny weight; 20 pennyweights z ounce; 12 ounces z pound. Apothecaries' : 20 grains equal z scruple ; 3 scruples z dram ; 8 drams z ounce ; 12 ounces z pound. SURFACE OR SQUARE MEASURE. Z44 square inches equal z square foot ; 9 square feet z square yard ; 30% square yards z square rod ; 40 square rods z square rood ; 4 square roods x square acre ; 640 square acres z square mile ; 4840 square yards z acre ; measure 200 feet on each side and you will have a square acre within an inch. MEASURES OF LENGTH. A palm is three inches; a hand (horse measure) is four inches ; a span is zo% inches; a cub it is two feet ; a pace is three feet ; a fathom is six feet ; a grea t cubit is zz feet ; x6', feet equal z rod ; 40 rods z furlong ; 8 furlongs z mile ; 60 geo. miles z degree ; a mile is 5280 feet, or Z76o yards in length : a league is 3 miles ; a day's journey is 33% miles; a Sabbath day's journey in the Bible is 1155 yards. SOLID OR CUBIC MEASURE. Z728 inches equal z cubic foot; 27 cubic feet z cubic yard ; 40 cubic feet of round timber z ton ; 50 cubic feet of hewn timber z ton ; 128 cubic feet of wood (4 feet wide, 4 feet high, and 8 feet long) z cord ; 24 75 cubic feet, z perch of stone. - HOUSEHOLD WEIGHTS AND MEASURES. Wheat Flour, z pound is z quart ; Indian Meal z pound 2 oz. is one quart ; Butter (soft) z pound is one quart ; Loaf Sugar, z pound 13 one quart ; White Sugar, powdered, z pound z oz. is one quart ; Brown Sugar, fine, z pound 2 oz. is z quart ; zo Eggs are one pound ; Flour, 8 quarts are z peck, 4 pecks are one DusheL LIQUIDS. English pint, 20 oz. ; American pint, 16 oz. ; 4 gills, z pint; 2 pints, z quart; 4 quarts, z gallon; tumbler, half pint; common wine-glass, 2 oz. ; large wine-glass, 4 oz.; common tea-cup, 7 oz. ; 5 table-spoons, 402.14 tea-spoons, z oz. POUNDS PER BUC""-.1- Wheat, 60 pounds; Corn, shelled, 56; Corn in ear, 70; i.ye, 60; Oats, 32; Potatoes, 60; White Beans, 6b ; Clover Seed, 60 ; Timothy. 35 ; Flax Seed, 56: Hemp, 42; Peas 60; Grass -Seed, Z4 ; Buckwheat, 42 ; Dried Peaches, 33 ; Dried Apples, 26 ; Onions, 57 ; Stove Coal, 80 ; Bran, co ; Plastering Hair, 8; Turnips, 55; Unslaked Lime, 30 ; Corn Meal, 48 ; Salt, fine, 55 ; Salt, coarse, 50 ; Barley, 48. CAPACITY OF BOXES. 30 inches Square, z6JE inches Deep, will contain one Barrel. '5 VALUE OF FO^IUIGX COINS, DENOMINATION. COUNTRY. Ecminlen* U.S. Money.^ 4.8o. .69.8 >.y6,V zx. z.oo. . .75.8 " Z.OO. 94- .19-3 34-5 .40.3 .19-3 3-97- 5-25- 19.3 .62.9 .23. .#L6 z.o8. .19-3 . 9 Z.2 .92.6 .04.9 .044 4^7- 55.8 33-a .24. .69.8 7. < 75* Spain Boliviano Bolivar Bolivia...' Venezuela Crown Nor'y, Swed'n, Den'k. British America. Dollar. . . M Liberia. ... . . 41 Mexico Sandwich Islands Spain Drachma Greece Florin. Austria franc = zoo centimes. GERMANY, i mark = zoo pfennig. HOLLAND, z florin or gulden = 100 cents. NORWAY, SWE DEN, AND DENMARK, z kroner= 100 ore. UNITED STATES, z dollar = 100 cents. SPAIN, z peseta = zoocentavos. AUS TRIA, z florin = zookreuzer. PORTUGAL, i milreis= zooo reis. GREECE, z drachma = 100 leptas. TURKEY, z piaster= 40 paras. RUSSIA, z rouble = zoo copecks. Italian notes and silver are not current in France, Belgium, and Switzerland, but the silver of these countries passes curn rent in Italy. Discovery of Gold in California. On January 19, 1848, John W. Marshall was building a mill for himself and Sutter on the south fork of the American River, fifty-four miles east of Sutter's Fort. This mill, it was expected, would supply the ranches and settlements with pine lumber. On this particular morning Marshall picked up from the bed-rock of the race of the mill a small piece of yellow metal whick weighed about seventeen grains. It was malleable, heavier than silver, and in all respects resembled gold. Marshall showed the piece in the afternoon to those who were working at the mill. The result of the dis cussion which ensued was the rejection of the gold theory. Marshall, however, was not satisfied, and afterward tested it with nitric acid, and found it was actually gold. He discovered pieces like it in all the surrounding gulches wherever he dug for it. The news of the discovery soon spread, and in April re ports of the find were published. IMPORTANT FACTS FOR REFERENCE. INSTANTANEOUS MULTIPLICATION TABLE. 573 This Table shows that the large figures in front of each double row are intended to multiply the small head fig ures in said row; for in stance, the large 9 is followed by 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, etc., until 0, beneath which stands the 8 12 16 6 : 2 3 4 5 J 10 15 20 25 23456 12 18 24 30 36 increases of each, multiplied by 9, viz : 9 times 2 are 18 ; 9 times 3 are 27 : etc. , 9 times 9 are 81. as will be seen at the end of the row ; and in the last row 24 times 2 are 48, etc., and at the end 24 times 24 are 576. 7234567 14 21 28 35 42 49 8 11 2345678 16 24 32 40 48 56 64 23456781) 18 27 36 45 54 63 72 81 23456789 10 20 30 40 50 60 70 80 90 100 23466789 10 11 22 33 44 55 66 77 88 99 110 121 12 2346678 9 10 11 12 24 36 48 60 72 84 96108120132144 13 234667 8 9 10 11 12 13 26 39 52 65 78 91 104 117 130 143 156 169 14 2345678 9 10 11 12 13 14 28 42 56 70 84 98 112 126 140 154 168 182 196 15 23456 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 30 45 60 75 90 105 120 135 150 165 180 195 210 225 16 23456 78 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 32 48 64 EO 96 112 128 144 160 176 192208 224 240 256 17 23456 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 34 61 68 85 102 119 136 153 170 187 204 221 238 255 272 289 18 2345 67 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 36 54 72 90 '108 126 144 162 180 198 216 234 252 270 288 306 324 19 2345 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 38 5T 76 95 114 133 152 171 190 209 228 247 266 28-5 304 323 342 361 234 567 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 40 60 80 100 120 140 160 180 200 220 240 260 280 300 320 340 360 380 400 21 2345 6 7 8 9 : 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 42 63 84 105 126 147 168 189 210 231 252 273 294 315 336 357 378 399 420 441 22 234 567 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 44 66 88 110 132 154 176 198 220 242 264 286 308 330 352 374 396 418 440 462 484 23 2345 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 4& 69 92 115 138 161 184 207 230 253 276 299 322 345 368 391 414 437 460483 506529 24 23 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 4872 96 120144168192216240264288312336360384408432456480504528552570 CHAPTER XLIX. Synonyms of the English Language. In this Table the letter a means adjective ; v means verb ; s means substantive or noun. ABACK, backward, back. Abaft, sterowards, aft, behind. Abandon, leave, forsake, desert, renounce, quit. Abandoned, wicked, reprobate, dissolute. Abandonment, leaving, desertion, dereliction. Abase, lower, humble, humiliate, degrade. Abasement, degradation, degeneracy, abjection. Abash, bewilder, disconcert, discompose. Abate, lessen, diminish, bate, reduce, decrease. Abbreviate, shorten, abridge, condense, curtail. Abdicate, give up, resign, renounce, abandon. Abet, help, encourage, instigate, incite, assist. Abettor, assistant, accessory, accomplice. Abhor, dislike intensely, view with horror, hate. Abide, stay, dwell, live with, tarry, remain. Abjure, recant, forswear, disclaim, revoke. Able, strong, powerful, muscular, stalwart. Abnormal, anomalous, unnatural, irregular. Abode, residence, habitation, dwelling, home. Abolish, quash, destroy, revoke, abrogate. Abominable, hateful, detestable, odious, vile. Abominate, dislike, abhor, loathe, detest. Abortive, fruitless, ineffectual, inoperative, idle. About, concerning, regarding, relative to. Abridge, shorten, abbreviate, contract, curtail. Absolute, entire, complete, unconditional. Absolve, set free, loose, clear, acquit, liberate. Absorb, engross, swallow up, engulf, imbibe. Abstain from, keep from, refrain, forbear. Abstemious, moderate, sober, temperate. Abstract, summary, compendium, abridgmen . Accelerate, hasten, hurry, expedite, forward. Accept, receive, take, admit. Acceptable, agreeable, pleasing, pleasurable. Acceptation, meaning, signification. Access, admission, approach, avenue. Accession, increase, augmentation, enlargement. Accident, casualty, incident, contingency. Accomplice, confederate, accessory, abettor. Accomplish, to do, effect, finish, execute. Accomplishment, attainment, qualification. Accord, grant, allow, admit, concede. Accordant, compatible, harmonious, consonant. Accost, salute, address, speak to, stop, greet. Account, assign, adduce, reckon, compute. Accountable, punishable, answerable. Accoutre, arm, equip, fit out, furnish with arms. Accredited, authorized, commissioned. Accumulate, bring together, amass, collect. Acquaint, inform, enlighten, apprise. Acquaintance, familiarity, intimacy, cognizance. Acquiesce, agree, accede, assent, comply. Acquire, get, obtain, attain, gain, procure, win. Acquirement, accomplishment, acquisition. Acquit, pardon, forgive, discharge, set free. Action, deed, achievement, feat, exploit. Actual, real, positive, genuine, certain. Actuate, move, impel, instigate, induce, pir % *npt. 574 Acute, shrewd, keen, intelligent, penetrating. Acuteness, acumen, penetration, ingenuity. Adage, saying, maxim, aphorism, proverb. Adapt, accommodate, suit, fit, conform. Addicted, devote, wedded, attached. Addition, increase, accession, augmentation. Additional, extra, added, supplemental. Address, tact, skill, ability, dexterity. Adherence, adhesion, attachment, fidelity. Adherent, follower, partisan, pupil, disciple. Adhesion, adherence, attachment, fidelity. Adopt, take, assume, appropriate, choose. Adorn, beautify, decorate, embellish, ornamep* Adroit, skillful, clever, dexterous, expert. Adulator, flatterer, parasite, toady. Adulterate, corrupt, contaminate, vitiate. Advance, bring forward, adduce, assign, allege. Advancement, preferment, promotion. Advantage, benefit, good, profit, avail, utility. Advantageous, beneficial, profitable, salutary. Adventure, incident, occurrence, casualty. Adventurous, bold, enterprising, daring. Adversary, opponent, antagonist, enemy, foe. Advice, warning, counsel, instruction. Advise, acquaint, inform, communicate, notify Advocate, counsel, defender, upholder. Aerial, airy, light, volatile, etherial, empyrial. Affability, courteousness, courtesy, urbanity. Affair, business, matter, question, subject. Affect, influence, act upon, interfere with, feiga. Affecting, touching, pathetic, melting, moving. Affection, fondness, attachment, kindness. Affectionate, loving, attached to, fond, kind. Affinity, relationship, alliance, kin, union. Affirm, swear, assert, asseverate, declare, aver. Affirmation, asseveration, protestation. Affix, attach, annex, subjoin, connect, adjoin. Afterwards, hereafter, subsequently. Age, period, time, date, generation, era, epoch. Aged, old, elderly, senile, anile. Agency, instrumentality, influence, operation. Aggrandize, exalt, promote, prefer, advance. Aggravate, tantalize, irritate, inflame, provoke. Aggregate, total, entire, complete, the whole. Aggression, encroachment, assault, attack. Agitation, perturbation, emotion, trepidation. Agonize, distress, rack, torture, writhe. Agony, anguish, pang, throe, pain, distress. Agree, consent, accede, acquiesce, comply. Agreeable, gratifying, pleasant, pleasing. Agreement, concurrence, coincidence, concorcL Aid, help, assist, co-operate, relieve, succor. Aid, assistance, support, sustenance, succor. Ailing, unwell, sickly, diseased, ill. Aim, direct, point, level, endeavor to attain. Alleviate, assuage, mitigate, soothe, solace. Alliance, affinity, union, connection, relation. Allot, assign, apportion, appropriate, appoint. SYNONYMS OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 575 Allow, admit, concede, yield, grant, give. Allowance, pay, wages, grant, stipend, salary. Allude, hint, refer, insinuate, imply, glance at. Allure, entice, attract, decoy, tempt, seduce. Always, continually ever, perpetually. Amalgamate, join, compound, mix. Amass, accumulate, collect, gather, heap up. Amazing, astonishing, wondrous, surprising. Ambiguous, equivocal, uncertain, vague. Ameliorate, improve, amendment, better. Amenable, responsible, accountable. Amend, mend, better, improve, correct, rectify. Amends, compensation, recompense. Amiable, loving, pleasing, engaging. Amicable, friendly, social, sociable. Ample, complete, full, wide, spacious. Anchorite, hermit, recluse, ascetic. Ancient, old-fashioned, old, antique, obsolete. Anguish, woe, agony, pain, distress, suffering. Animating, inspiring, exhilarating, inspiriting. Animating, life, vivacity, spirit, elasticity. Annals, chronicles, reports, historical accounts. Annex, add, attach, affix, append, subjoin. Annihilate, destroy, annul, extinguish, nullify. Annoyance, trouble, uneasiness, aiscomiort. Anomalous, irregular, abnormal, eccentric. Answerable, responsible, accountable. Antagonism, hostility, animosity, enmity. Antagonist, opponent, adversary, enemy. Antagonistic, hostile, opposite, adverse. Anticipate, forestall, foretaste, prejudge. Antithesis, contrast, opposition. Anxiety, care, solicitude, attention. Apathetic, insensible, impassive, insensitive. Ape, mimic, mock, imitate. Apocryphal, uncertain, unauthentic. Appeal, refer, invoke, invocate, call upon. Appearance, air, look, aspect, manner, mien. Appellation, name, denomination, cognomen. Applaud, praise, extol, commend, approve. Applause (see Acclamation). Apportion, distribute, allot, appropriate. Appreciate, value, reckon, prize, esteem. Approbation, approval, concurrence, assent. Appropriate, peculiar, particular, exclusive. Approval, assent, approbation, concurrence. Arbitrator, arbiter, judge, umpire, referee. Ardent, eager, fervid, hot, fiery, glowing. Argue, discuss, dispute, debate. Arise, ascend, mount, scale, tower. Arouse, stir up, awaken, vivify, excite. Array, rank, order, disposal, disposition. Arrest, stop, apprehend, withhold, keep back. Arrogance, assumption, haughtiness, pride. Ascend, climb, mount, rise, soar, tower, scale. Asperity, acrimony, acerbity, harshness. Asperse, accuse falsely, malign, slander. Assault, assail, attack, invade, encounter. Assemble, congregate, collect, gather, muster. Assembly, assemblage, collection, group. Assent, consent, accede, acquiesce, comply. Assert, affirm, declare, aver, protest, maintain. Assign, adduce, allege, advance. Assist, help, aid, co-operate, relieve, succor. Assume, pretend to, arrogate, usurp. Assurance, confidence, certainty. Astonishing, surprising, wonderful, striking. Athletic, stalwart, powerful, brawny. Atrocious, heinous, enormous, flagrant. Attach, affix, append, subjoin, annex, adjoin. Attachment, affection, devotedness, devwtion. Attract, draw to, allure, entice, charm. Attractive, winning, charming, captivating. Attribute, quality, property, grace. Audacious, assuming, forward, presumptuous. Augment, increase, enlarge, extend. August, majestic, noble, dignified, stately. Auspices, protection, favor, patronage. Auspicious, fortunate, favorable, propitious. Austere, rigid, severe, rigorous, stern, harsh. Authoritative, commanding, swaying. Authorized, accredited, empowered. Avarice, covetousness, cupidity, greediness. Averse, adverse, hostile, reluctant, unwilling^ Aversion, dislike, antipathy, hatred. ^ Avocation, employment, calling, business. Avow, declare, acknowledge, recognize, own Awaken, arouse, stir up, excite, vivify. Award, adjudge, adjudicate, judge, determine Aware, known, sensible, conscious, cognizant Awkward, rough, clumsy, unpolished. Awry, crooked, wry, bent, curved, inflected. BAD, wicked, evil, unsound, unwholesome. Baffle, defeat, discomfit, bewilder. Balance, poise, weigh, neutralize, counteract. Balmy, fragrant, sweet-scented, odoriferous. Bear, hold up, sustain, support, endure, carry. Bearing, manner, deportment, demeanor. Beastly, brutish, brutal, sensual. Beat, strike, knock, hit, belabor, thump, dash. Beau, sweetheart, wooer, lover, suitor, fop. Beautiful, elegant, beauteous, handsome, fair. Beautify, adorn, decorate, embellish, deck. Becoming, befitting, comely, decent, fit, prope* Beg, ask, entreat, crave, solicit, beseech. Beginning, commencement, outset, opening. Beguile, amuse, entertain, deceive, mislead. Behavior, conduct, carriage, demeanor. Benefaction, gift, donation, alms, charity. Beneficent, benevolent, bountiful, bounteous. Benefit, advantage, good, profit, service. Benevolence, beneficence, benignity, kindness. Benign, benignant, benevolent, kind, gracious. Bent, inclination, disposition, tendency, bias. Bereave, deprive, strip, dispossess, disarm. Beseech, beg, entreat, crave, solicit, implore. Beset, surround, encompass, embarrass. Betimes, early, soon, shortly, ere long. Betoken, augur, presage, forebode, bode. Bile, choler, anger, rage, fury, indignation. Bind, tie, restrain, connect, link. Binding, astringent, costive, valid, obligatory, Bitter, harsh, pungent, poignant, stinging. Black, dark, murky, pitchy, inky, cimmsrian. Blacken, defame, calumniate, slander. Blamable, culpable, censurable, reprehensible. Blame, reprove, reprehend, censure, condemq Blameless, inculpable, guiltless, sinless. Bland, soft, gentle, mild, kind, gracious. Blank, confused, confounded, dumbfounded. Blend, mix, amalgamate, mingle, commingle Blessedness, bliss, happiness, felicity. Blind, sightless, eyeless, unseeing. Bliss, ecstacy, felicity, blessedness. Blithe, gay, blithesome, cheerful, merry. Blockhead, dunce, dolt, dullard, numskull. Bloody, gory, sanguinary, ensanguined. Bloodshed, carnage, slaughter, butchery. Bloom, blossom, bud, sprout, germinate. ENCYCLOPEDIA OF VALUABLE INFORMATION. Blot, stain, blur, speck, flaw, blemish, defect. Blot out, wipe out, erase, expunge, delete. Bluff, blustering, burly, swaggering, hectoring. Blunder, mistake, error, delusion. Blunt, pointless, obtuse, edgeless, unpolite. Border, edge, brim, rim, verge, brink, margin. Bordering on, contiguous to, conterminous with. Bound, limit, circumscribe, confine, restrict. [Boundless, unlimited, unbounded, infinite. Bounty, munificence, liberality, generosity. Brand, stigmatize, denounce, mark. Bravado, brag, boast, boasting, vaunting. Brave, courageous, gallant, chivalrous. Brief, short, concise, compendious, succinct. Bright, clear, lucid, transparent, limpid. Brisk, active, agile, nimble, lively, quick. Brittle, fragile, frangible, frail. Broad, wide, large, ample, expanded. Broil, affray, fray, feud, quarrel, brawl. Broken-hearted, disconsolate, inconsolable. Brook, endure, suffer, bear, submit to. Brotherly, fraternal, affectionate, kind. Bruise, break, crush, squeeze, pulverize. Brunt, shock, onset, assault, attack. Burden, load, encumber, embarrass. Burdensome, heavy, weighty, ponderous, bulky. Burning, glowing, ardent, fervid, impassioned. Burst, break, crack, split, rend. Bury, inter, inhume, entomb, immure. JJy-and-by, anon, shortly, ere long, soon. Bystander, onlooker, spectator, beholder. CABAL, combination, intrigue, faction. Cajole, coax, wheedle, flatter, fawn. Calamitous, disastrous, fatal, unfortunate. Calculate, reckon, guess, suppose, compute. Call back, retract, recant, recall, revocate. Callous, hard, obdurate, impenitent, unfeeling. Calm, tranquillize, allay, appease, quiet, hush. Calumniate, vilify, revile, accuse falsely. Caprice, freak, whim, humor, crotchet, farn.*-. Captious, touchy, testy, cross, petulant. Captivate, charm, enchant, fascin^e, enrapture. Captivity, imprisonment, confinewsnt. Capture, catch, seize, grasp, arrest, apprehend. Care, anxiety, Solicitude, concern, attention. Career, history, course, race, passage, life. ^ Carnal, fleshly, sensual, voluptuous, luxurious. Carriage, walk, bearing, deportment, gait. Carry, bear, sustain, convey, transport. Carry on, conduct, manage, regulate, direct. Case, condition, state, circumstance, plight, ^astdown, discouraged, downcast, dejected. Cast off, reject, forsake, abandon, discard. Casualty, accident, contingency, incident. Catalogue, list, roll, record, inventory, index. Cede, give up, surrender, relinquish, quit. Celebrate, commend, applaud, laud, extol. Celebrated, famous, renowned, far-famed. ^ Celerity, quickness, speed, rapidity, velocity. Celestial, heavenly, divine, godlike, seraphic, tensure, blame, reprehend, reprobate. Ceremony, form, observance, rite, solemnity. Certain, sure, indubitable, unquestionable. Certify, testify, vouch, declare. Change, alter, vary, transform, exchange. Changeable, variable, unsteady, undecided. Character, cast, turn, tone, description. Characteristic, peculiar to, sign of, feature. Characterize, name, designate, denominate. Charge, accuse, impeach, arraigr, inculpate. Charity, kindness, benignity, beneficence. Charm, enchant, fascinate, bewitch, enrapturBc Cheerless, brokenhearted, comfortless. Cherish, nourish, nurture, nurse, foster. Chide, reprove, rebuke, reprimand. Chief, principal, main, supreme, paramount. Choice, rare, select, option. Choose, prefer, select, elect, call, pick. Chronicle, record, register, enrol. Circuitous, roundabout, tortuous, flexuous. Circulate, spread, diffuse, disseminate. Civilize, polish, humanize, cultivate, refine. Claim, ask, demand, challenge, call for, plead. Clamor, outcry, fuss, noise, hubbub, uproar. Clandestine, hidden, secret, private. Class, order, rank, degree, grade, category. Clause, stipulation, proviso, term, article. Clean, cleanse, clarify, purify. Clear, absolve, acquit, liberate, deliver, release. Clearly, palpably, obviously, distinctly. Clemency, leniency, mercy, mildness. Clever, skillful, expert, dexterous, adroit. Climb, get up, scale, mount, soar, tower. Clumsy, awkward, unpolished, uncourtly. Clutch, grasp, lay hold on, catch, seize, grip. Coagulate, thicken, concrete, clot, curdle. Coalition, union, alliance, confederacy. Coarse, rongh, rude, rugged, gruff, harsh. Coax, cajole, wheedle, flatter. Coeval, contemporaneous, contemporary. Cogent, forcible, strong, valid, irresistable. Coincide, agree, correspond, concur. Coincidence, concurrence, correspondence. Colleague, fellow, compeer, companion. Collect, gather, assemble, muster, congregate. Combat, engagement, conflict, contest, fight. Combination, alliance, union, league. Comely, becoming, decent, seemly, agreeable. Comfort, solace, console, encourage, revive- Comfortless, cheerless, forlorn, disconsolate. Comic, funny, laughable, droll, ludicrous. Command, order, decree, injunction, mandate; Commence, begin, enter upon. Commend, praise, applaud, extol, eulogize. Commendable, praiseworthy, laudable. Comment, observation, remark, annotation. Commerce, dealing, trade, intercourse. Company, association, society, assembly. Companion, comrade, coadjutor, partner, ally. Comparison, simile, similitude, illustration. Compass, encircle, environ, encompass. Compassion, pity, commiseration, sympathy. Compassionate, kind, merciful, clement. Compatible, consistent, consonant, accordant. Compel, force, constrain, coerce, enforce. Compendious, brief, short, succinct, concise. Complaint, malady, disease, distemper. Complete, accomplish, fulfil, realize, execute. Complex, compound, complicated, involved. Complexion, aspect, appearance, feature. Complicated, complex, compound, involved. Compliment, praise, flatter, adulate, applaud Comply, yield, accede, assent, consent. Compose, form, compound, put together. Composed, serene, placid, calm, collected. Compound, complex, complicated, intricate. Comprehend, comprise, take in, embrace. Comprehension, capacity, capability. Comprehensive, extensive, broad, wide. SYNONYMS OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 577 Conceited, proud, vain, egotistical. Conceive, think of, imagine, suppose. Conception, notion, idea, thought, perception. Concern, affair, business, matter, care, regard. Concerning, respecting, regarding, relative to. Concert, contrive, devise, design, manage. Concerted, joint co-operation, designed. Concise, brief, short, succinct. Conclude, end, close, finish, terminate. Conclusion, erd, upshot, event, inference. Condense, compress, press, squeeze, contract. Condition, state, plight, case, predicament. Condolence, sympathy, commiseration. Conduce, contribute, subserve, incline, tend. Conducive, furthering, promoting, auxiliary. Conduct, behavior, demeanor, deportment. Conduct, guide, lead, direct, manage. Confederate, accomplice, accessory, abettor. Confer, bestow, give, discourse, converse. Conference, meeting, conversation, talk. Confess, acknowledge, avow, own, recognize. Confide, trust, repose, depend, rely. Confused, muddled, mixed, bewildered. Confusion, disorder, derangement, chaos. Confute, refute, disprove, belie. Congregate, assemble, collect, gather muster. Conjecture, guess, surmise, supposition. Conjure, adjure, beseech, entreat, implore. Connect, join, link, bind. Connected, joined, related, akin, kindred. Connection, union, alliance, coalition. Consequence, effect, result, event, issue. Consider, reflect, regard, ponder, deliberate Considerate, thoughtful, reflective, prudent. Consistent, consonant, compatible. Console, solace, comfort, soothe. Conspicuous, distinguished, noted. Constancy, firmness, stability, steadiness. Constantly, ever, always, continually. Constitute, make, form, compose, mould. Constitutional, legal, regulated, organized. Constrain, compel, force, coerce, impel. Construct, build, make, erect, compile. Construction, interpretation, version. Contemptible, mean, vile, despicable, pitiful. Contemptuous, disdainful, scornful, insolent. Contend, contest, debate, argue, dispute, cope. Contention, strife, discord, discussion, wrangle. Contest, combat, conflict, fight, competition. Contiguous, adjacent, adjoining, next to. Contingency, casualty, accident, incident. Continual, unceasing, incessant, continuous. Contract, agreement, compact, bargain. Contradict, oppose, deny, gainsay, controvert. Contrary, adverse, opposite, antagonistic. Contribute, give to, co-operate, conspire. Contrition, repentance, penitence, remorse. Contrivance, plan, device, scheme, design. Control, check, curb, repress, restrain, govern. Controversy, debate, contest, discussion. Convene, call together, bring together, convoke. Convenient, commodious, suitable, adapted. Convention, assembly, meeting, convocation. Conventional, usual, ordinary, fashionable. Conversant, acquainted with, familiar. Conversation, dialogue, conference, talk. Converse, reverse, opposite, discourse. Copy, model, pattern, imitation, transcript. Corporal, corporeal, bodily, material, physical. Coruulent, portly, stout, lusty, plethoric. 37 Correct, accurate, exact, precise, proper. Correction, discipline, punishment. Correspond, fit, tally, answer, suit. Correspondence, letters, intercourse. Correspondent, similar, counterpart, suitable. Costly, expensive, valuable, precious. Council, assembly, company, congress, meeting. Counsel, advise, instruction, intelligence. Count, calculate, compute, reckon, estimate. Countenance, encourage, support, confirm. Counterfeit, spurious, forged, imitated, false. Counterpart, converse, adverse, correspondent Countless, innumerable, numberless. Courage, resolution, fortitude, fearlessness. Course, way, road, route, passage, race. Crafty, cunning, artful, sly, subtle, wily. Crave, beg, entreat, solicit, beseech, implore. Crazy, crack-brained, imbecile, foolish. Create, make, form, cause, produce, generate. Credence, belief, faith, confidence. Credential, missive, diploma, title, testament. Credit, belief, trustworthiness, reputation. Credulity, gullibility, simplicity. Crest, top, summit, apex, head, crown. Critical, nice, exact, fastidious, precarious. Criticize, examine, scan, analyze, discuss. Cross, ill-tempered, fretful, ill-humored. Crude, raw, undigested, unconsidered. Cruel, savage, barbarous, inhuman. Cupidity, meanness, avarice, stinginess. Curb, restrain, hold, check, moderate. Curiosity, inquisitiveness, interest, rarity. Curious, inquiring, inquisitive, searching. Curse, malediction, anathema, bane, blight. Cursory, summary, rapid, superficial. Custody, keeping, guardianship, conservation DARK, black, dusty, sable, swarthy, opaque. Dash, hurl, cast, throw, drive, rush, send, fly. Dauntless, valiant, gallant, fearless, intrepid. Dawn, gleam, begin, rise, open, break. Dead, defunct, deceased, departed, gone. Deaf, disinclined, averse, inexorable, insensible. Death, departure, demise, decease. Debt, liability, default, obligation. Decay, decline, wane, dwindle, waste, ebb. Decayed, rotten, corrupt, unsound. Deceit, cheat, imposition, trick, delusion. Deceive, trick, cheat, beguile, delude, mislead. Decide, determine, settle, adjudicate. Decipher, read, spell, interpret, solve. Decision, determination, conclusion. Declaim, speak, debate, harangue, recite. Declamation, oratory, elocution, harangue. Declaration, avowal, manifestation. Declivity, descent, fall, slope, incline. Default, lapse, forfeit, omission, absence. Defeat conquer, overcome, worst, rout. Defect, imperfection, flaw, fault, blemish- Defence, excuse, plea, vindication, bulwark. Defend, guard, protect, justify. Defer, delay, postpone, put off, prorogue. Deference, respect, honor, attention. Deficient, short, wanting, inadequate, scanty, Defile, pollute, corrupt, sully. Define, fix, settle, determine, limit. Definite, precise, exact, correct, fixed. Deformity, ugliness, disfigurement. Deliberate, consider, meditate, consult, pondet. Delicacy, nicety, dainty, refinement, tact. 578 ENCYCLOPEDIA OF VALUABLE INFORMATION. Delight, enjoyment, pleasure, happiness. Deliver, liberate, free, rescue, pronounce. Demonstrate, prove, show, exhibit, illustrate. Denude, strip, divest, lay bare. Deny, refuse, reject, withhold, negative. Depart, leave, quit, go, decamp, start, sally. Department, section, division, office, branch. Deprive, strip, bereave, despoil, rob, divest. Depute, appoint, commission, charge, entrust. Deputy, vicegerent, lieutenant, representative. Desire, longing, affection, craving. Desist, cease, stop, discontinue, drop, abstain. Desolate, bereaved, forlorn, forsaken, deserted. Despair, hopelessness, despondency. Desperate, v/ild, daring, audacious, determined. Destine, purpose, intend, design, devote. Destination, purpose, intention, design. Destiny, fate, decree, doom, end. Deter, warn, stop, dissuade, disspirit. Detract, lessen, deteriorate, depreciate. Detriment, loss, harm, injury, deterioration. Detrimental, injurious, hurtful, pernicious. Develop, enunciate, amplify, expand, enlarge. Device, artifice, expedient, contrivance. Devious, tortuous, circuitous, roundabout. Devoid, void, wanting, destitute, unendowed. Devolve, impose, place, charge, commissior Devoted, attached, fond, absorbed, dedicated. Devotion, piety, devoutness, religiousness. Devour, eat, consume, swallow, gorge, bolt. Dictate, prompt, suggest, enjoin, order. Dilapidation, ruin, decay, disintegration. Dilate, stretch, widen, expand, swell, distend. Dilatory, tardy, procrastinating, lagging. Diligence, care, assiduity, attention, heed. Dimension, measurement, size, configuration. Diminish, lessen, reduce, contract, curtail. Dingy, dim, dull, dusky, rusty, colorless. Discernment, discrimination, penetration. Discipline, order, strictness, training, coercion. Disclose, discover, reveal, confess, detect. Discomfort, disquiet, vexation, annoyance. Disconcert, abash, confui^, confound, upset. Disconsolate, sad, forlorn, melancholy, woeful. Discover, make known, find, invent, contrive. Discredit, disgrace, disrepute, dishonor. Discreditable, shameful, disgraceful. Discreet, cautious, prudent, wary. Discrepancy, disagreement, difference. Discrimination, acuteness, discernment. Discuss, argue, sift, debate, examine. Disdain, contempt, scorn, haughtiness. Dismay, terrify, frighten, scare, daunt, appal. Dismay, terror, dread, fear, fright. Dismiss, send off, discharge, discard, banish. Disorder, disease, malady, complaint. Disorderly, irregular, confused, lawless. Disown, renounce, deny, disclaim, ignore. Dispel, scatter, drive away, disperse. Display, show, spread out, exhibit, expose. Displease, offend, vex, anger, provoke, irritate. Dispose, arrange, place, order, give, bestow. Dispute, argue, contest, contend, question. Distance, interval, remoteness, space. Distinct, clear, plain, obvious, different. Distinguish, perceive, discern, mark out. Distinguished, famous, glorious, far-famed. Distract, disturb, perplex, bewilder, madden. Distress, trouble, pain, afflict, grieve, seize. Distribute, allot, share, dispense, apportion. District, country, region, quarter, clime. Disturb, derange, discompose, agitate, route. Divert, please, gratify, amuse, entertain. Divide, part, separate, distribute, deal out. Divine, godlike, holy, heavenly, sacred. Do, effect, make, perform, accomplish, finish. Docile, tractable, teachable, compliant, tame. Doctrine, tenet, articles of belief, creed, dogme^ Doleful, dolorous, rueful, dismal, piteous. Doom, sentence, verdict, judgment, fate, lot. Drill, train, teach, discipline, perforate, bore. Drive, force, urge, press, compel, guide, direct. Droll, funny, laughable, comic, whimsical. Drown, inundate, swamp, submerge. Drowsy, sleepy, heavy, dozy. Dry, arid, parched, lifeless, dull, tedious. Due, owing to, attributable to, just, fair. Dull, stupid, gloomy, sad, dismal. Dupe, trick, beguile, gull, cheat, deceive. Durable, lasting, permanent, abiding. Dutiful, obedient, submissive, respectful. EARN, acquire, obtain, win, gain, achieve. Earnest, ardent, serious, grave, solemn, warm. Earthly, sordid, selfish, venal, mercenary. Ease, calm, alleviate, allay, mitigate, appease. Eccentric, irregular, anomalous, singular, odd. Eclipse, shade, overcast, cloud. Economical, sparing, saving, provident. Edge, border, brink, rim, brim, margin, vergfe, Efface, blot out, expunge, obliterate. Effect, consequence, result, issue, event. Effective, efficient, operative, serviceable. Eloquence, oratory, rhetoric, declamation. Elucidate, make plain, explain, clear tin. Elude, evade, escape, avoid, shun. Embarrass, perplex, entangle, distress, trouble. Embellish, adorn, decorate, bedeck, beautify. Embolden, inspirit, animate, encourage, cheer. Embrace, clasp, hug, comprise, comprehend. Eminent, distinguished, signal, conspicuous. Emit, give out, throw out, exhale, discharge. Empty, void, devoid, hollow, unfilled. Enchanted, charmed, captivated, fascinated. Encircle, enclose, embrace, encompass. Enclose, fence in, confine, circumscribe. Encompass, encircle, surround, gird, begird. Encounter, attack, conflict, combat, assault. Encourage, countenance, sanction, support. End, aim, object, purpose, result, conclusion. Endanger, imperil, peril, hazard, jeopardize. Energy, force, vigor, efficacy, potency. Engage, employ, busy, occupy, attract, invite. Engagement, word, promise, battle, action. Engross, absorb, take up, busy, occupy, engage. Engulf, swallow up, absorb, imbibe, drown. Enjoin, order, ordain, appoint, prescribe. Enjoyment, pleasure, gratification. Enlarge, increase, extend, augment, broaden. Enlighten, illumine, illuminate, instruct. Enraged, infuriated, raging, wrathful. Enrapture, enchant, fascinate, charm, captivatU Entangle, perplex, embarrass, inveigle. Enterprise, adventure, undertaking, effort. Entertainment, amusement, divertisement. Enthusiasm, zeal, ardor, fervor, warmth. Entice, allure, attract, decoy, lure, tempt. Entire, whole, complete, perfect, total. Entitled, named, designated, denominated. Entrance, entry, inlet, ingress, porch, portaL SYNONYMS OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. Entreat, beg, crave, solicit, beseech, implore. Enumerate, tell over, relate, narrate, recount. Erring, misguided, misled. Error, mistake, fallacy, blunder, hallucination. Escape, elude, evade. Especially, particularly, specially, mainly. Essay, attempt, trial, endeavor, effort, tract. Essential, necessary, indispensable, requisite. Establish, institute, found, organize, confirm. Estate, domain, demesne, lands, property. Esteem, prize, value, appreciate, respect. Estimate, value, measure, compute, calculate. Eternal, everlasting, endless, infinite, perpetual. Evade, escape, elude, equivocate, prevaricate. Evasion, shift, subterfuge, prevarication. Even, equal, equable, uniform, smooth, plain. Event, incident, occurrence, accident. Ever, always, eternally, everlastingly, evermore. Everlasting, endless, infinite. Evidence, manifest, prove, evince, demonstrate. Evident, clear, plain, manifest, apparent. Evil, wicked, ill, bad, unfair, misfortune. Evince, show, argue, prove, evidence, manifest. Evoke, call out, invite, summon, challenge. Exact, accurate, correct, definite, precise. Exaggerated, overstated, heightened, amplified. Exalt, raise, elevate, erect, lift up, dignify. Examination, search, inquiry, research. Exchange, change, barter, truck, commute. Exchange, barter, dealing, trade, traffic. Excitable, irritable, susceptible. Excite, incite, arouse, awaken, stir up, disquiet. ) Exclaim, call out, shout, cry, ejaculate. Exclude, shut out, debar, preclude, seclude. Exclusive, sole, only, alone. Excursion, trip, ramble, tour. Excusable, pardonable, venial. Excuse, palliate, mitigate, acquit, justify. Excuse, plea, justification, pretence, pretext. Execrable, abominable, detestable, hateful. Execute, accomplish, effectuate, fulfil, effect. Exemption, freedom, immunity, privilege. Exercise, exert, practice, pursue, carry on. Exhale, emit, give out, smoke, steam. Exhaust, spend, drain, empty, debilitate. Exhibition, show, sight, spectacle, pageant. Exile, banishment, deportation, expatriation. Exonerate, clear, acquit, discharge, absolve. Exorbitant, excessive, extortionate. Expand, spread, diffuse, dilate, extend, enlarge. > Expectancy, expectation, waiting for, hope. Expectation, expectancy, waiting for, hope. Expedient, fit, necessary, essential, requisite. Expedite, accelerate, quicken, hasten, facilitate. Expel, drive out, eject, dispossess, dislodge. Explicit, express, plain; definite, positive. Exploit, achievement, feat, deed. Expound, explain, interpret, unfold, elucidate. Express, explicit, plain, positive, definite. Expressive, significant, energetic, emphatic. Expunge, blot out, wipe out, obliterate, efface. Exquisitely, pre-eminently, superlatively. Extend, enlarge, amplify, expand, increase. Extensive, comprehensive, wide, large. Exterior, outward, outerj external. Exterminate, eradicate, root out, annihilate. Extreme, utmost, farthest, most distant. Extricate, free, disengage, disentangle. Exuberant, plenteous, plentiful, luxuriant. Exultation, transport, joy, triumph. FABRIC, edifice, structure, pile. Fabricate, invent, frame, feign, forge, coin. Face, front, confront, encounter. Facetious, jocose, jocular, pleasant. Facile, easy, pliable, flexible. Fact, reality, incident, circumstance. Faculty, ability, gift, talent, endowment. Failing, imperfection, weakness, frailty, foible- Failure, omission, neglect, default. Falter, halt, stammer, stutter, hesitate. Fame, reputation, glory, renown, celebrity. Famed, famous, far-famed, renowned. Familiar, free, frank, affable, conversant. Familiarity, acquaintance, intimacy, courtesy,, Family, household, house, lineage, ancestry. Famous (See Famed). Fanciful, imaginative, ideal, fantastical. Fancy, imagination, notion, conceit, vagary. Farewell, good-bye, adieu, leavetaking. Farming, husbandry, ullage, agriculture. Fashion, custom, manner, mode, practice, form* Fast, firm, solid, constant, steadfast, staunch. Fasten, fix, tie, link, stick, hold, affix, attach. Fat, obese, corpulent. Fatal, deadly, mortal, lethal, inevitable. Fatigue, weariness, lassitude, languor. Fault, blemish, defect, imperfection, vice. Favor, benefit, kindness, civilitv, grace. Fear, fright, terror, dismay, alarm, dread. Fearless, brave, bold, intrepid, courageous. Fearful, afraid, timid, nervous, timorous. Feast, fete, banquet, treat, entertainment. Ferocious, fierce, eavage, ravenous, voracious. Fertile, fruitful, prolific, teeming, pregnant. Fervid, glowing, ardent, impassioned, fervent. Festal, festive, convivial, joyous. Festival, feast, banquet, fete, treat. Festivity, hilarity, joviality, jovialness, gaiety. Feud, fray, affray, broil, quarrel, dispute. Fickle, unstable, inconstant, restless, fitful. Fiction, romance, invention, falsehood. Fictitious, fabricated, invented, supposititious. Fight, battle, action, engagement, combat. Figure, image, allegory, emblem, type, symbol. Fill, satisfy, content, store, replenish, glut. Filthy, dirty, dingy, unclean, gross. Final, ending, ultimate, last, latest, conclusive. Finale, close, end, termination, conclusion. Fine, refined, delicate, pure, nice, handsome. Finical, foppish, spruce, dandyish. Finite, limited, bounded, terminable. Firm, strong, robust, sturdy, fast, steadfast. First, primary, primitive, pristine, primeval. Fit, suit, adapt, adjust, equip, prepare. Flavor, taste, relish, savor. Flaw, blemish, spot, blur, speck, defect, crack. Fleeting, temporary, transient, transitory. Fleetness, quickness, celerity, swiftness, speed Flexible, flexile, pliant, Ikhe, supple. Flightiness, levity, lightness, giddiness. Flimsy, light, weak, superficial, shallow. Fling, cast, throw, hurl, toss. Flinty, hard, indurate, obdurate. Flippancy, pertness, sauciness, lightness. Flirt, jeer, gibe, scoff, taunt. Flock, throng, crowd, multitude, swarm, sh. Flood, deluge, inundate, overflow, overwhelm Fly, soar, mount, tower. Foe, enemy, opponent, adversary, antagonist Foil, balk, defeat, frustrate. 5 So ENCYCLOPEDIA OF VALUABLE INFORMATION. 1?old, ^crap, envelop. Folks, persons, people, individuals, fellows. Follow, succeed, ensue, imitate, copy, pursue. Follower, partisan, disciple, retainer, pursuer. Folly, silliness, foolishness, imbecility, weakness. Fond, enamored, attached, affectionate. Fondness, affection, attachment, kindness, love. Food, meal, repast, victuals, meat, viands, diet. Fool, idiot, buffoon, zany, clown. Foolery, tomfoolery, folly, absurdity, mummery. Foolhardy, venturesome, incautious, hasty. Foolish, simple, silly, irrational, brainless. Footstep, track, mark. Fop, dandy, beau, coxcomb, puppy, jackanapes. Forego, quit, relinquish, let go, waive. Foregoing, antecedent, anterior, preceding. Forerunner, herald, harbinger, precursor. Foresight, forethought, forecast, premeditation. Foretell, predict, prophesy, prognosticate. Forfeiture, fine, penalty. Forge, coin, invent, frame, feign, fabricate. Forgetful, unmindful, oblivious. Forgive, pardon, remit, absolve, acquit, excuse. Former, antecedent, anterior, previous, prior. Formidable, terrible, dreadful, fearful. Forsake, abandon, desert, renounce. Forsaken, abandoned, forlorn, deserted. Forthwith, immediately, directly, instantly. Fortify, strengthen, garrison, reinforce. Fortitude, endurance, resolution, fearlessness. Fortunate, lucky, happy, auspicious, prosperous. Fortune, chance, fate, luck, doom, destiny. Forward, onward, progressive, confident. Forward, farther, further, advance, promote. Foster, cherish, nurse, tend, harbor, nurture. Fragrant, spicy, sweet-scented, balmy. Frailty, weakness, failing, foible, imperfection. Frame, construct, invent, coin, fabricate, forge. Franchise, right, exemption, immunity. Frank, artless, candid, sincere, free, easy. Frantic, distracted, mad, furious, raving. Fraternize, co-operate, consort, associate with. Fraud, deceit, deception, duplicity, guile, cheat. Fray, affray, feud, quarrel, broil, altercation. Fresh, new, novel, recent, modern. Fret, gall, chafe, agitate, irritate, vex. Fretful, peevish, petulant, fractious. Friendly, amicable, social, sociable. Fright, alarm, dismay, terror, consternation. Frighten, scare, affright, dismay, appal, terrify. Frightful, fearful, dreadful, dire, direful. Frivolous, trifling, trivial, petty. Frolic, gambol, play, game, sport, prank, spree. Front, face, confront, encounter. Froward, cross, untoward, captious, fractious. Frugal, provident, economical, saving. Furious, violent, boisterous, vehement, dashing. Furniture, goods, gear, chattels, movables. Further, farther, advance, forward, promote. Fury, madness, frenzy, rage, anger. Futile, trifling, trivial, frivolous, useless. GAIETY, merriment, jollity, mirth, hilarity. Gain, profit, emolument, advantage, benefit. Gambol, frisk, prank, play, spree, caper. Game, play, pastime, diversion, sport. Gang, band, horde, company, troop, crew. Gap, breach, chasm, hollow, cavity, cleft- Garble, mutilate, misquote, distort, pervert. Garland, chaplet, coronal, wreath. Garnish, embellish, adorn, beautify, deck. Gather, pick, cull, assemble, muster, infer. Gaudy, show}', tawdry, gay, glittering. Gaunt, emaciated, scraggy, skinny, meagre. Gawky, clumsy, uncouth, clownish, awkward. Gay, cheerful, merry, lively, jolly, sprightly. Generate, form, make, beget, produce. Generation, formation, race, breed, stock. Generous, beneficent, noble, honorable. Gesture, attitude, action, posture. Get, obtain, earn, gain, attain, procure, achieve. Ghastly, wan, pallid, hideous, grim, shocking. Ghost, spectre, spright, sprite, apparition. Gibe, scoff, sneer, flout, jeer, mock, taunt. Giddy, unsteady, flighty, thoughtless. Gift, donation, benefaction, grant, alms. Gigantic, colossal, huge, enormous, vast. Gild, adorn, beautify, brighten, deck. Gird, begird, engird, belt, encircle, enclose. Give, grant, bestow, confer, yield, impart. Glad, pleased, cheerful, joyful, gladsome. Glare, flare, glisten, glitter, dazzle, gleam. Gleam, glimmer, glance, glitter, shine, flash. Glee, gaiety, merriment, mirth, joviality. Glitter, gleam, shine, glisten, radiate, glime. Gloom, cloud, darkness, dimness, blackness. Gloomy, lowering, lurid, dim, dusky, sad. Glorify, magnify, celebrate, adore, exalt. Glorious, famous, renowned, celebrated. Glory, honor, fame, renown, splendor. Glowing, hot, intense, fervid, ardent, fervent. Glut, gorge, stuff, cram, cloy, satiate, block up. Go, depart, proceed, move, budge, stir. Godly, righteous, devout, holy, pious, religious. Good, benefit, weal, advantage, profit, boon. Goodly, comely, pleasant, graceful, desirable. Goodness, value, worth, excellence. Good, virtuous, righteous, upright, just, true. Gorge, glut, fill, cram, stuff, satiate. Grant, pay, wages, salary, stipend, gift, boon. Graphic, forcible, telling, picturesque, vivid. Gracp, catch, seize, gripe, clasp, grapple. Grasping, greedy, avaricious, covetous. Grateful, agreeable, pleasing, welcome. Gratification, enjoyment, pleasure, delight. Grave, serious, sedate, thoughtful, solemn. Grave, tomb, sepulchre, vault. Gravity, weight, heaviness, importance. Great, big, huge, large, majestic, vast, grand. Greediness, avidity, eagerness, voracity. Grief, affliction, sorrow, trial, woe, tribulation* Grisly, terrible, hideous, grim, ghastly. Gross, coarse, outrageous, unseemly, shameful, Ground, found, rest, base, establish. Groundless, unfounded, baseless, ungrounded. Group, assembly, assemblage, cluster. Grovel, crawl, cringe, fawn, sneak. Grow, increase, vegetate, expand, advance. Growl, grumble, snarl, murmur, complain. Grudge, malice, rancor, spite, pique, hatred. Gruff, rough, rugged, blunt, rude, harsh, surly, Grumble, growl, snarl, complain. Guarantee, warrant, secure, verify. Guard, shield, fence, security, defence. Guardian, protector, conservator, preserver. Guess, conjecture, divine, surmise, reckon. Gush, stream, flow, rush, spout. HABILIMENTS, clothes, dress, garb, apparel. Habit, manner, custom, usage way. SYNONYMS OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 581 Habitation, dwelling, residence, abode. Habitual, usual, customary, accustomed Hail, greet, salute, welcome, accost, call. Hale, hearty, robust, sound, healthy, strong. Hallow, consecrate, sanctify, venerate. Halt, rest, pause, falter, limp, hop, hobble. Hand, operative, workman, artisan, influence. Handle, manage, use, wield, fetl. Happiness, felicity, bliss, prosperity. Happy, prosperous, successful, lucky. Harass, distress, perplex, weary, tire, worry. Harbor, port, haven, asylum, refuge. Hard, firm, solid, flinty, unfeeling, harsh. Hardened, hard, callous, unfeeling, insensible. Hardihood, audacity, imprudence, effrontery. Hardy, manly, manful, masculine, vigorous. Harm, evil, ill, misfortune, mischief, mishap. Harmonious, symphonious, consonous. Harmonize, accord, tally, agree, adapt. Harsh, rough, severe, rigorous, gruff, rugged. Havoc, destruction, desolation, devastation. Hazard, peril, imperil, jeopardize, risk, dare. Haze, fog, mist, rime. Head, chief, leader, guide. Headstrong, obstinate, dogged, stubborn. Heal, cure, remedy, reconcile. Healthy, hearty, hale, sound, strong. Heap, pile, mass, accumulate. Hear, hearken, overhear, listen. Heartbroken, disconsolate, inconsolate. Hearty, hale, healthy, sound, strong. Heavenly, celestial, divine, seraphic, angelic. Heaviness, dullness, gloom, lethargy, torpor. Help, aid, assist, co-operate, succor, relieve. Heretofore, formerly, aforetime, long ago. Heroic, courageous, brave, bold, intrepid. Hesitate, falter, pause, demur, scruple. Hew, cut down, fell, hack, chop. Hidden, secret, occult, mysterious. Hide, conceal, disguise, secrete, cover, screen. Hide, skin, rind, peel, bark. Hideous, ghastly, grim, grisly, frightful. High, tall, lofty, elevated, proud, conceited. Highly, greatly, exceedingly, immeasurably. Hilarity, mirth, glee, jollity, merriment. Hinder, thwart, retard, stop, prevent, impede. Hint, suggest, allude to, refer to, glance at. Hire, pay, allowance, salary, wages, stipend. Hit, strike, dash, beat, thump. Vioard, heap up, treasure, lay up, store, lonor, homage, dignity, grandeur, tfope, expectation, expectancy, trua^. Horrible, fearful, dreadful, dire, direfui. Hostile, opposite, contrary, repugnant, adverse. Hostility, animosity, enmity, ill will, hatred. Hot, ardent, fervent, fiery, burning, glowing, House, family, lineage, race, habitation. Humiliation, fall, abasement, degradation. Humor, satire, wit, jocularity, temper, moocr. Hurl, throw, fling, cast, precipitate. Hurricane, storm, tempest, blast, tornado. Hurry, hasten, speed, expedite, precipitate. Hurt, harm, injury, damage, mischief. Hurtful, pernicious, baneful, deleterious. Hush, lull, calm, still, quiet. Hypocrisy, deceit, pretence, cant. IDEA, imagination, conception, notion. Ideal, fanciful, imaginary, imaginative. Identical, same, self-same, particular. Idle, lazy, indolent, inactive, unemployed. Illimitable, boundless, limitless, measureless. Illiterate, unlettered, unlearned, untaught. Illness, sickness, indisposition, disease. Illusion, fallacy, deception, phantasm. Illusory, imaginary, chimerical, visionary. Illustrate, explain, elucidate, clear. Illustrious, celebrated, glorious, noble. Image, likeness, picture, representation. Imaginary, ideal, fanciful, illusory. Imagine, conceive, fancy, apprehend, think. Imbecility, silliness, senility, dotage. Imbibe, absorb, swallow up, take in, engulf. Immediately, instantly, forthwith, directly. Immense, vast, enormous, huge, prodigious. Immerse, dip, plunge, douse, souse. Immunity, privilege, prerogative, exemption. Immure, confine, shut up, imprison. Impair, injure, diminish, decrease. Impart, communicate, reveal, divulge. Impartial, just, equitable, unbiased. Impassioned, passionate, glowing, burning. Impeach, accuse, charge, arraign, censure. Impede, hinder, retard, obstruct, prevent. Impediment, obstruction, hindrance, obstacle. Impel, animate, actuate, induce, move, incite. Impious, profane, irreligious, godless. Implicate, involve, entangle, embarrass. Implore, beg, solicit, beseech, crave. Imply, involve, comprise, infold, import. Importance, signification, significance, avail. Important, pressing, momentous, material. Impose, put, place, set, fix, lay. Imposing, impressive, striking, majestic. Imposition, delusion, cheat, deception, fraudt Impost, tax, duty, custom, exc'se, tribute. Impregnate, fill with, imbue, saturate, steep. Impress, device, motto, seal, imprint. Impression, feeling, sentiment, sensation. Impressive, stirring, forcible, eiciting. Imprison, incarcerate, shut up, immure. Imprisonment, incarceration, captivity. Improve, amend, better, mend, reform, rectify. Improvement, progress, proficiency. Improvident, careless, incautious, imprudent. Impudence, assurance, impertinence. Impudent, saucy, brazen, bold, impertinent. Impugn, gainsay, oppose, attack, assail. Impulse, incentive, incitement, motive. Impulsive, rash, hasty, forcible, violent. Incentive, motive, inducement, impulse. Incessantly, always, unceasingly, continually. Incident, circumstance, fact, event, occurrence Incidental, accidental, casual, contingent. Incision, cut, gash. Incite, instigate, excite, provoke, stimulate. Inclemency, harshness, rigor, intensity. Inclination, leaning, slope, disposition. Incline, slope, lean, slant, tend, bend, turn. Inclose, surround, shut in, fence in, cover. Include, comprehend, comprise, contain. Inconstant, changeable, unsteadfast, unstabtec Inconvenience, incommode, discommode. Increase, v. extend, enlarge, augment, dilate. Increase, s. augmentation, accession, addition. Inculcate, impress, infuse, instill, implant. Incumbent, obligatory, morally necessitated. Incursion, inroad, invasion, irruption. Indeed, truly, veritably, certainly. Indefinite, vague, uncertain, unsettled, loose, 582 ENCYCLOPEDIA OF VALUABLE INFORMATION. Indicate, point out, show, mark. Indication, t^rk, show, sign, note, symptom. Indite, compose, frame, couch. Indolent, idle, lazy, listless, inactive. Induce, move, actuate, prompt, impel, instigate. Inducement, motive, reason, cause, impulse. Indulge, foster, cherish, fondle. Industrious, active, diligent, assiduous. Ineffectual, vain, useless, unavailing, fruitless. Inequality, disparity, disproportion. Inestimable, invaluable, priceless. Inevitable, unavoidable, not to be avoided. Inferior, secondary, subaltern, subordinate. Infernal, diabolical, fiendish, devilish, hellish. Infest, annoy, plague, harass, disturb. Infidelity, unbelief, distrust, incredulity. Infinite, boundless, unbounded, illimitable. Infirm, weak, feeble, enfeebled. Inflame, anger, irritate, enrage, enchafe. Inflection, bend, crookedness, curvature. Inflict, lay on, impose. Influence, V. bias, sway, prejudice, prepossess. Influence, s. credit, favor, reputation, character. Inform, communicate, tell, report, acquaint. Inhuman, cruel, brutal, savage, barbarous. Iniquity, wrong, injustice, grievance. Injunction, order, command, mandate, precept. Injure, damage, hurt, deteriorate, wrong. Injurious, hurtful, baneful, pernicious. Injustice, wrong, iniquity, grievance. Inlet, entrance, entry, ingress. Innocent, guiltless, sinless, harmless. Inoffensive, harmless, innocent, innoxious. Insanity, madness, mental aberration, lunacy. Inscribe, dedicate, devote, impress, engrave. Inside, interior, within, inland. Insidious, sly, treacherous, crafty, artful. Insight, discernment, inspection, introspection. Insinuate, hint, intimate, suggest, infuse. Insipid, dull, flat, mawkish, tasteless, vapid. Insist, persist, persevere, urge. Insnare, entrap, decoy, allure, net, enmesh. Insolent, rude, saucy, pert, impertinent. Inspect, examine, investigate, overhaul. Inspire, animate, exhilarate, enliven, cheer. Instability, mutability, fickleness, mutableness. Install, induct, inaugurate, invest. Instrument, tool, implement, utensil, medium. Instrumental, conducive, assistant, helping. Insufficiency, inadequacy, incompetency. Insult, affront, outrage, indignity, blasphemy. Insulting, insolent, rude, saucy, impertinent. Insurrection, rebellion, mutiny, revolt, sedition. Integrity, uprightness, honesty, probity. Intellect, understanding, sense, brains, mind. Intellectual, mental, ideal, metaphysical. Intend, design, contemplate, mean, purpose. Intense, ardent, earnest, glowing, fervid, intent, design, purpose, intention, drift, view. Intentional, designed, intended, contemplated. Inter, bury, entomb, inhume. Intercede, interpose, interfere, mediate. Intercourse, commerce, connection, intimacy. Interdict, forbid, prohibit, inhibit, proscribe. Interfere, meddle, intermeddle, interpose. Interior, inward, inner, inside, internal. Intermediate, intervening, intervenient. Intervention, agency, interposition, meditation. Intimate, hint, suggest, insinuate, express- Intimidate, dishearten, alarm, frighten- Intolerable, insufferable, unbearable. Intoxicated, drunk, tipsy, inebriated, fuddled. Intrepid, bold, brave, daring, fearless. Intricacy, difficulty, complexity, complication.. Intrigue, plot, conspiracy, combination. Intrinsic, real, true, genuine, sterling, native. Introduce, present, usher, bring in, begin. Introduction, preface, prelude, exordium. Invade, attack, assail, infringe, encroach. Invalid, weak, worthless, null, feeble, infirm. Invalidate, quash, cancel, overthrow, vacate. Invasion, incursion, irruption, inroad, Invective, abuse, reproach, railing, censure. Invent, devise, contrive, frame, fabricate. Invert, upset, overturn, overthrow, subvert. Invest, surround, besiege, endue, clothe. Investigation, examination, search, inquiry. Inveterate, confirmed, chronic, malignant. Invidious, envious, hateful, odious, malignant. Invigorate, brace, harden, nerve, strengthen. Invincible, unconquerable, impregnable. Invisible, unseen, imperceptible, impalpable. Irregular, eccentric, anomalous, inordinate. Irreligious, profane, godless, impious. Irreproachable, blameless, spotless. Irresistible, resistless, opposeless, irrepressible. Irresolute, wavering, undetermined, undecided. Irrespective, independent of. Irritable, excitable, irascible, susceptible. Irritate, aggravate, worry, provoke, embitter. Issue, v. emerge, rise, proceed, flow, spring. Issue, s. end, conclusion, upshot, effect. JEALOUSY, suspicion, envy. Jeer, sneer, scoff, mock. Jeopardize, imperil, hazard, endanger. Jeopardy, risk, peril, hazard, danger, chance. Jilt, coquette, flirt. Jocose, jocular, jolly, facetious, witty, pleasanto Jocund, light-hearted, lively, sprightly. Join, accompany, go with, add, unite, append. Jollification, conviviality, revelry, merriment, Jolly, stout, lusty, corpuisnt, obese, merry. Journey, travel, tour, trip, excursion, voyage. Joviality, hilarity, jollity, mirth, merriment. Joy, delight, gladness, charm, pleasure. Justify, excuse, clear, exonerate, defend. Justness, accuracy, correctness. Jut, project, protrude, bulge. Juvenile, young, youthful, boyish, infantile. KEEN, sharp, acute, penetrating, cutting. Keep, retain, hold, detain, preserve, maintain. Key, guide, explanation, translation, solution. Kill, murder, assassinate, slay, massacre. Kind, thoughtful, affable, gentle, meek, tender. Kind, species, sort class, genus, nature. Kindle, ignite, enkindle, awaken, arouse. Kindred, affinity, relative, kinsfolk, related. Knowledge, learning, scholarship, acquirement, LABORIOUS, hard-working, industrious. L,abor, work, task, toil, exertion. Labored, elaborate, hard-wrought, studied. Laborer, workman, operative, hand. Lack, want, need, require. Laconic, short, brief, concise, curt. Lag, tarry, linger, loiter, saunter. Lame, limp, halt, hobble, hop. Lament, grieve, mourn, rejjrct, bewail, deplore. SYNONYMS OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 583 language, speech, tongue, dialect. Languid, weak, faint, drooping, pining. Lank, lean, thin, skinny, meagre, scraggy. I^apse, elapse, glide, pass, roll. Large, big, great, huge, vast, extensive, wide. Lawful, legal, legitimate, rightful. Lax, loose, vague, dissolute, licentious. Lazy, idle, indolent, slothful, sluggish. Lead, conduct, guide, direct, induce, persuade. Leader, chief, director, head, guide. Leading, principal, chief, governing, ruling. League, alliance, confederacy, combination. Lean, v. thin, scraggy, lank, skinny. Lean, s. incline, tend, bend, slope. Leap, jump, bound, spring. Learning, knowledge, scholarship. Leave, s. liberty, license, permission. Leave, v . quit, relinquish, renounce, give up. Leavings, scraps, refuse, remains, remnants. Lengthen, extend, elongate, protract, prolong. Lessen, abate, diminish, decrease, lower. Let, permit, allow, surfer. Letter, epistle, note, communication. Level, even, plain, smooth, flat. Levity, giddiness, lightness, flightiness. Liable, exposed to, subject to. Libel, lampoon, pasquinade. Liberal, generous, bountiful, bounteous. Liberate, set free, deliver, discharge. Liberty, leave, license, permission, freedom. Licentious, loose, lax, dissolute, rakish. Lie, untruth, falsehood, falsity, fabrication. Life, animation, vivacity, buoyancy, spirits. Lifeless, dead, defunct, inanimate, extinct. Lift, hoist, raise, elevate, erect, exalt. Limpid, clear, transparent. Lineage, ancestry, family, house, generation. Linger, tarry, loiter, wait, lag, saunter. Link, tie, bind, join, chain. Liquid, liquor, fluid, juice. Liquidate, clear off, extinguish, pay off, lessen. List, roll, roster, catalogue, register, inventory. Listen, list, hearken, heed, attend to. Listless, indifferent, indolent, careless. Literal, actual, real, positive, true. Literature, books, letters, learning, scholarship. Little, small, diminutive, dwarf. Live, exist, subsist. Livelihood, living, support, sustenance. Loiter, wait, linger, tarry, saunter. Lone, forlorn, lonesome, solitary, desolate. Look, s. manner, appearance, aspect, feature. Look, v. see, witness, view, eye, inspect. Loose, vague, indefinite, lax, slack, dissolute. Loquacity, talkativeness, volubility, glibness. Loss, damage , detriment. Lot, destiny, fate, future, doom. Loud, noisy, clamorous, vociferous, blustering. Love, endearment, affection, attachment. Lovely, charming, amiable, delightful. Lover, suitor, wooer, sweetheart. Low, humble, lowly, base, mean, filthy, foul. Lower, reduce, humble, humiliajte, degrade. Lowering, gloomy, lurid, murky, dull. Loyalty, allegiance, fealty. Luck, chance, fortune, accident. Luscious, honeyed, sweet, mellifluous. Lustful, lecherous, lascivious. Lustre, splendor, brightness, brilliancy. Lusty, stout, strong, able-bodied, stalwart. Luxuriant, overflowing, exuberant, superfluous. Luxury, plenty, profuseness, voluptuousness. Lying, false, untrue, untruth. MACHINATION, stratagem, cheat, imposture. Mad, wild, frantic, distracted, frantic, rabid. Madden, irritate, enrage, exasperate. Madness, mental aberration, insanity, lunacy. Maim, mutilate, mangle, cripple, lame. Main, chief, principal, leading, first. Maintain, assert, vindicate, hold, support, Maintenance, living, livelihood, subsistence. Majestic, dignified, noble, stately, pompous. Majesty, grandeur, dignity, honor. Make, create, form, produce, mould, shape. Malady, ailment, disease, distemper, disorder. Malediction, curse, imprecation, denunciation. Malefactor, criminal, culprit, felon, convict. Malice, spite, rancor, ill-feeling, grudge, pique. Malicious, virulent, malignant, wicked. Manacle, shackle, fetter, chain. Manage, contrive, concert, direct. Management, direction, superintendence, care. Mangle, tear, lacerate, mutilate, cripple, maim. Manner, habit, custom, way, air, look. Manners, morals, habits, behavior, carriage. Manure, dung, ordure, soil. Many, numerous, several, sundry, divers. Mar, spoil, ruin, disfigure. Margin, edge, rim, border, brink, verge. Marine, maritime, nautica!, naval. Marked, observable, noticeable, remarkable. Marriage, wedding, nuptials, matrimony. Marsh, fen, bog, morass, quagmire, swamp. Martial, military, warlike, soldierlike. Marvel, wonder, miracle, prodigy. Marvelous, wondrous, wonderful, amazing. Mask, visor, cloak, veil, blind. Massacre, carnage, slaughter, butchery. Massive, massy, bulky, heavy, weighty. Master, possessor, proprietor, head, owner. Mastery, dominion, rule, sway, ascendency. Material, corporeal, bodily, physical, temporal, Matrimony, marriage, wedlock, wedding. Mature, ripe, ready, mellow, perfect, fit, Mawkish, insipid, flat, spiritless, vapid. Maxim, adage, apothegm, proverb, saying. Meagre, poor, lank, emaciated, barren, dry. Meaning, signification, import, acceptation. Means, way, manner, method, mode. Mechanic, artisan, artificer, operative. Mediate, intercede, interpose. Meditate, think, reflect, muse. Medium, mediocrity, organ, channel. Meek, unassuming, mild, gentle. Meet, apt, fit, suitable, expedient, proper. Meeting, assembly, convocation, congregation. Mellow, ripe, mature, soft. Melodious, tuneful, musical, silver, dulcet. Melt, liquefy, fuse, dissolve, moisten. Memoir, narrative, chronicle, legend, life. Memorial, monument, memento. Memory, remembrance, recollection. Menace, threat, threatening, commination. Menial, servant, domestic, drudge. Merchandise, goods, wares, commerce, traffic. Merchant, trader, tradesman, dealer. Mercy, lenity, mildness, clemency, compassiop Merely, barely, only, scarcely, just. Merit, worth, desert. 584 ENCYCLOPEDIA OF VALUABLE INFORMATION. Merited, deserved, condign, suitable, adequate. Meritorious, worthy, deserving. Merriment, mirth, joviality, jollity, hilarity. Messenger, carrier, harbinger, forerunner. Metaphorical, figurative, allegorical. Mien, air, look, manner, aspect, appearance. Migratory, roving, strolling, wandering. Mild, soft, meek, gentle, kind. Mimic, imitate, ape, mock. Mind, v . heed, advert to, regard. Mind, s. sentiment, opinion, idea, notion. Mindful, observant, attentive, heedful. Mingle, mix, blend, compound, amalgamate. Minister, administer, contribute, supply. Ministry, cabinet, administration, government. Minute, circumstantial, particular. Miscellaneous, promiscuous, indiscriminate. Mischief, injury, harm, damage, hurt, evil. Misconception, misapprehension. Miscreant, caitiff, villain, ruffian. Miserable, unhappy, wretched, distressed. Miserly, stingy, niggardly, avaricious. Misfortune, calamity, disaster, mishap. Misguide, mislead, dazzle, beguile, deceive. Mislead (see Misguide). Misspend, waste, dissipate, squander. Misrule, anarchy, confusion. Miss, omit, lose, fail, miscarry. Mission, commission, legation, embassy. Mistake, err, fail, misconceive. Misunderstanding, misapprehend. Misuse, abuse, perversion, maltreatment. Mitigate, alleviate, relieve, abate, diminish. Mix, mingle, blend, intermix, amalgamate. Mixture, medley, variety, hotch-potch. Modern, novel, new, recent. Modest, chaste, virtuous, bashful, reserved. Moist, wet, damp, dank, humid. Moment, consequence, weight, importance. Momentous, important, significant, weighty. Monotonous, unvaried, dull, tiresome. Monster, ruffian, villain, brute, prodigy. Monstrous, shocking, dreadful, horrible. Mood, humor, disposition, vein, temper. Moral, regular, strict, virtuous. Morals, manners, behavior, habits, morality. Morass, bog, quagmire, slough, marsh, fen. Morbid, sick, ailing, sickly, diseased. Moreover, besides, furthermore. Morning, daybreak, morn, dawn, sunrise. Morose, gloomy, sullen, surly, fretful, crabbed. Mortal, deadly, fatal, destructive. Mortality, humankind, human race, death. Mortify, vex, chagrin, grieve, hurt, afflict. Motherly, maternal, tender. Motion, proposition, proposal, movement. Motionless, still, stationary, torpid, stagnant. Motley, heterogeneous, diversified. Mottled, dappled, dotted, spotted, flecked. Mould, cast, form, shape, fashion, mildew, i Mount, arise, rise, ascend, soar, tower, climb. Mournful, sad, sorrowful, lugubrious, grievous. Moving, affecting, touching, pathetic, melting. Much, ample, plenteous, copious. Muffle, deaden, disguise, conceal, cover. Murky, dark, dusky, dim, cloudy, misty. Muse, meditate, contemplate, think, reflect. Music, harmony, melody, symphony. Musical, tuneful, melodious, harmonious. Muster, collect, rally, assemble, congregate. Musty, stale, sour, fetid. Mute, dumb, silent, speechless. Mutilate, maim, cripple, disable, disfigure. Mutinous, insurgent, seditious, tumultuous. Mystify, confuse, perplex, puzzle. Myth, fable, legend, fiction, parable. NATION, people, community, realm, state. Native, real, genuine, indigenous, vernacular. Natural, original, regular, normal, bastard. Naturally, consequently, necessarily. Nausea, qualm, sea-sickness, disgust, loathing. Nautical, maritime, sea-faring, naval, marine. Neat, nice, spruce, trim, precise, pure. Necessitate, compel, force, oblige. Need, v. necessity, distress, poverty, indigence Need, s. require, want. Needful, needy, requisite, essential, necessary. Neglect, disregard, slight, omit, overlook. Nerve, fibre, sin^w, tendon, force, pluck. Nervous, timid, timorous, shaky. Neutralize, counterbalance, counteract. Nevertheless, however, yet notwithstanding. New, fresh, recent, novel. News, tidings, intelligence, information. Nice, exact, accurate, good, particular. Niggard, miser, skinflint, screw. Niggardly, miserly, griping, stingy, penurious. Nigh, near, close, adjacent, approximate. Nobility, aristocracy, greatness, grandeur. Nocturnal, nightly, gloomy, dark. Noise, cry, outcry, clamor, row, din, uproar. Nominate, name, entitle. Nonsensical, irrational, absurd, preposterous. Notice, s. advice, notification, intelligence. Notice, v. mark, note, observe, attend to. Noticeable, striking, observable, remarkable. Notorious, noted, well-known, renowned. Nourish, nurture, cherish, foster, supply. Nourishment, food, diet, sustenance, nutrition. Noxious, hurtful, deadly, poisonous. Nugatory, ineffectual, futile, useless, null. Nullify, annul, vacate, invalidate, quash. Numerous, many, sundry, various, several. Nuptials, marriage, wedding. Nurture, nurse, cherish, nourish, foster. Nutrition, food, diet, nutriment, nourishment. OBEDIENT, compliant, submissive, dutiful. Obese, corpulent, fat, adipose, fleshy. Object, s. aim, end, purpose, design, mark, butt. Object, v. oppose, except to, contravene. Obligation, duty, favor, engagement, contract. Obliging, accommodating, civil, courteous. Obliterate, erase, blot out, expunge, efface. Obnoxious, hateful, offensive, liable, exposed. Obscene, lewd, foul, filthy, indecent, indelicate. Obscure, shade, dim, cloud, darken. Observable, noticeable, remarkable, striking. Observant, watchful, mindful, attentive. Observation, remark, comment, notice. Obtrude, trespass, trench, intrude, encroach. Obtuse, stolid, heavy-headed, dull, stupid. Obviate, prevent, preclude, hinder. Occasion, s. necessity, need, event, opening. Occasion, v. cause, make, create, induce. Occasional, accidental, casual, incidental. Occult, secret, hidden, unknown, invisible. Occupy, hold, possess, fill, employ. Occur, happen, take place, appear, offer. SYNONYMS OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 585 Occurrence, event, affair, incident, adventure. Odor, smell, scent, perfume, fragrance, Offal, garbage, rubbish, refuse. Offend, displease, vex, nettle, irritate, shock. Offender, culprit, defaulter, delinquent. Officer, functionary, official, commandant. Officious, obtrusive, busy, interfering. Offspring, issue, progeny, descendants. Often, frequently, recurrently, repeatedly. Omen, presage, prognostic, foreboding. jOmission, oversight, failure, neglect, default. (Omit, leave out, miss, overlook. One, common, united, single, individual. Only, singly, alone, solely, merely, barely- Onset, onslaught, attack, charge, encounter. Onward, forward, ahead, progressive. Ooze, exude, drop, percolate, filter. Opaque, untransparent, dull, dark, cloudy. Operate, act, do, make, work, labor. Operative, stringent, effective, serviceable. Opportune, seasonable, timely, fit, well-timed. Opportunity, occasion, chance, fit, opening. Oppose, cmbat, bar, hinder, resist. Opposing, conflicting, jarring, neutralizing. Oppress, overburden, overbear, overtask. Oppression, cruelty, hardship, tyranny. Opprobrium, disgrace, odium, infamy. Option, choice, preference, election. Opulent, wealthy, rich, affluent, moneyed. Oral, verbal, spoken, parole. Oration, address, speech, harangue. Oratory, rhetoric, eloquence. Orb, circle, globe, ball, sphere. Order, appoint, prescribe, enjoin /command. Ordinance, decree, law, statute, edict. Organic, fundamental, radical, rooted. Organize, dispose, arrange, regulate, adjust. Organization, structure, form, instrumentality. Oririce, aperture, opening. Original, first, primary, pristine, primeval. Originate, create, form, spring, ooze, issue. Ostensible, manifest, visible, outward. Ostentation, display, pomp, show, parade. Ostentatious, showy, vain-glorious, vain. Outcast, reprobate, castaway, vagrant. Outdo, exceed, excel, surpass, outvie. Outer, outward, outside, external, exterior. Outlandish, strange, foreign, alien, barbarous. Outline, sketch, plan, draft, contour. Outrage, affront, abuse, injury, insult, offence. Outset, commencement, start, beginning. Outskirts, suburbs, environs, precincts. Outward, outer, external, exterior, extrinsic. Over, above, upon, across, more than. Overawe, daunt, intimidate, affright, cow. Overcharge, oppress, overload, surcharge. Overflow, inundate, submerge, deluge, flood. Overflowing, exuberant, copious, diffuse. Overplus, excess, surplus, surplusage. Overruling, governing, controlling. Overture, proposal, offer, invitation. Overturn, overset, overthrow, upset, subvert. Own, acknowledge, admit, confess, recognize. Owner, proprietor, possessor, master, holder. . PACE, step, tread, walk, tramp, march. Pacific, peaceful, peaceable, mild, gentle. Pacify, appease, calm, quiet, still. Pagan, gentile, heathen, idolater. Pageaotry, pomp, splendor, show. Pain, anguish, agony, distress, suffering. Painful, afflicting, grievous, torturing. Painstaking, attentive, laborious, diligent. Paint, color, represent, portray, delineate. Pair, two, couple, brace. Palate, taste, relish. Pals, pallid, wan, whitish, shallow, faint. Palliate, extenuate, varnish, cover, allay. Palpable, clear, distinct, plain, obvious. Palpitate, flutter, pant, throb, pulsate. Panegyric, eulogy, encomium, eulogium. Pang, throe, twinge, pgony, anguish, pain. Pant, palpitate, gasp, throb, long, yearn. Parable, fable, allegory, simile. Parade, show, ostentation, vain-glory. Parallel, equal, parity, analogy, like, similar. Paramount, supreme, principal, chief. Parasite, flatterer, sycophant, toady. Parity, analogy, equality, parallel. Parsimonious, stingy, niggardly, miserly. Parson, clergyman, incumbent, curate. Partake, participate, nhare. Partial, biased, prejudiced, limited. Participate, share, partake, join in. Particle, jot, tittle, grain, atom. Particular, singular, exact, nice, punctual. Particularly, primarily, especially, chiefly. Parting, separation, leaving, distribution. Partisan, supporter, follower, adherent. Partition, parcel, divide, apportion, distribute. Passable, tolerable, pretty good, fair. Pass, elapse, glide, slip, sJide. Pastime, sport, play, recreation, amusement. Patch, part, piece, plot, tract. Paternal, fatherly, careful, tender, hereditary. Path, pathway, footroad, road, way, route. Pathetic, moving, touching, affecting, melting. Patience, resignation, endurance, fortitude. Patient, passive, submissive, resigned. Patronize, befriend, favor, countenance. Paucity, lack, fewness, deficiency. Pause, demur, hesitate, deliberate, interval. Pay, liquidate, lessen, discharge, extinguish. Peace, quiet, calm, tranquility, repose, amity. Peaceable, mild, gentle, friendly. Peasant, countryman, rustic, bumpkin. Peccant, erring, guilty, criminal, malignant. Peculator, defaulter, delinquent, offender. Pedigree, descent, genealogy, lineage. Peel, skin, rind, husk. Pellucid, translucent, lucid, limpid, transp^enfc- Penal, punitive, retributive. Penalty, fine, amercement, mulct, forfeiture* Pendant, protruding, hanging, pendulous. Pending, depending, coming, undecided. Penetrate, pierce, perforate, bore, fathom. Penitence, contrition, repentance, remorse. Percolate, filtrate, strain, filter, ooze. Perennial, imperishable, undying, immortal. Perfect, complete, whole, entire, finished. Perfidious, faithless, false-hearted, treacherous Perforate, bore, penetrate, pierce, drill. Performer, actor, player, comedian, tragedian. Perfume, odor, scent, fragrance, arcma, smelL Perhaps, perchance, possibly, perad venture. Perilous, dangerous, hazardous. Period, time, age, date, era, cycle, epoch, end* Periodically, regularly, steadily. Perish, decay, die, expire, dissolve, disclose. Permission, permit, leave, liberty, license. 586 ENCYCLOPEDIA OF VALUABLE INFORMATION. Persecute, oppress, harass, afflict. Persevere, continue, persist, pursue, proceed. Persons, men, people, folks, individuals. Persuade, exhort, urge, allure, incite, influence. Pert, forward, flippant, saucy, impertinent. Pertain, belong, appertain, relate, concern. Pertinacious, obstinate, inflexible, stubborn, ^ertinent, fit, relevant, proper, appropriate. Perturb, agitate, unsettle, vex. Pervade, diffuse, spread, permeate, overspread. Pervert, corrupt, distort, turn, twist. Pest, bane, plague, cankerworn, ruin. Petition, prayer, supplication, entreaty. Petty, trifling, trivial, frivolous, insignificant Phantom, apparition, ..pectre, ghost, sprite. Philosophy, science, knowledge. Phlegmatic, frigid, cold, heavy, -unfeeling. Physical, material, corporeal, tangible. Pick, pluck, choose, cull, select, gather. Pictorial, picturesque, graphic, imaginative. Piece, part, portion, section, morsel, firearm. Piercing, thrilling, ringing, clangous. Piety, religion, sanctify, holiness, devotion. Pile, heap, accumulate, hoard, amass, collect. Pile, building, edifice, structure, thread. Pillage, loot, rapine, spoil, plunder, booty. Pillar, column, shaft, post, support. Pinch, press, squeeze, gripe, nip. Pine, flag, droop, languish, sink, fade. Pious, holy, godly, saintly, devout, religious. Pique, spite, grudge, umbrage, resentment. / Pic, hollow, trench, gulf, abyss. Pitch, fling, cast, launch, throw. Pith, gist, kernel, cream, strength, marrow. Pithy, terse, concise, forcible, strong. Pitiful, mean, paltry, sordid, contemptible. Pity, s. compassion, sympathy, condolence. Place, put, set, lay, dispose, order, organize. Plaintive, elegiac, dirgelike, doleful, sad. Plaudit, acclamation, applause, exultation. Plausible, colorable, specious, ostensible. Plea, apology, defence, vindication, entreaty. Plead, defend, vindicate, exonerate, justify. Please, gratify, satisfy, content, delight. Plebeian, ignoble, vulgar, low-born. Pledge, 5. pawn, earnest, security, surety. Plenty, enough, sufficiency, abundance. Pliable, pliant, flexible, lithe, supple, yielding. Plight, pledge, hypothecate, vow. Plot, concoct, hatch, frame, contrive. Pluck, courage, mettle, spirit, nerve. Plump, fleshy, round, fat, full, chubby. Plunder, pillage, booty, loot, spoil, robbery. Plunge, dive, dip, douse, sink. Ply, practice, exercise, urge. Point, v. aim, level, direct, sharpen, show. Point, a. peaked, sharp, marked, keen, severe. Poison, bane, pest, venom, virus, infection. Policy, plan, device, stratagem, management. Polite, refined, genteel, civil, accomplished. Politic, political, civil, judicious, prudential. Ponderous, heavy, weighty, massive, bulky. Poor, indigent, needy, penniless, necessitous. Populace, people, commonalty, vulgar, mob. Popular, common, general, prevailing. Port, harbor, haven, entrance, portal. Portal, gate, gateway, entrance. Portend, foreshow, augur, presage, forebode. Portly, majestic, stately, grand, dignified, possess, have, own, hold, occupy. Possible, practicable, likely, feasible. Possibly, perhaps, peradventure, perchance. Post, s. place, situation, position, office, berth. Practical, serviceable, useful, experienced. Practically, actually, really, in fact. Practice, s. custom, habit, manner, use, usage. Practice, v. exercise, transact, apply. Praise, s. approval, eulogy, commendation. Prank, frolic, gambol, freak, trick, escapade. Prate, tattle, babble, chat, chatter, prattle. Pray, beg, entreat, invoke, supplicate, implore. Preamble, preface, introduction, precede. Precaution, care, forethought. Precede, lead, go before, herald. Precedence, priority, pre-eminence, preference. Preceptor, teacher, tutor, instructor. Precincts, borders, limits, bounds, confines. Precious, valuable, costly, dear, estimable. Precipitate, v. hurry, hasten, cast down. Precipitate, a. hasty, hurried, rash, premature. Precipitous, headlong, rash, steep, beetling. Precision, exactness, accuracy. Preclude, prevent, obviate, hinder, debar. Precursory, preceding, anterior, prior. Predatory, marauding, pillaging, rapacious. Predicament, situation, condition, state, plighfc Predict, foretell, prognosticate, prophesy. Predilection, preference, partiality, bias. Preface, prelude, introduction, preamble. Prefer, choose, fancy, select, raise, exalt. Preference, choice, priority , precedence. Pregnant, prolific, teeming, replete, enciente. Prelude, introduction, preface, prologue. Premature, precipitate, rash, hasty, untimely. Premeditation, forethought, forecast. Premium, recompense, reward, bonus. Preposterous, irrational, foolish, absurd. Prerogative, privilege, immunity, right. Present, .s. gift, donation, benefaction. Present, v. offer, exhibit, give, introduce. Presentiment, foreboding, foretaste. Presiding, managing, directing, controlling. Pressure, urgency, exigency, hurry, crushing^. Pretence, cloak, mask, garb, pretext, excuse. Pretend, feign, affect, simulate, profess. Pretension, claim, demand, show, pretence. Pretext (see Pretence). Pretty, beautiful, neat, trim, fine, handlome. Prevail, predominate, obtain, succeed. Prevailing, proper, prevalent, ruling. Prevaricate, quibble, cavil, shuffle, equivocate Previous, preceding, foregoing, antecedent. Prey, food, victim, sacrifice, spoil, booty. Price, cost, charge, expense, figure, outlay, Priceless, invaluable, inestimable. Prick, puncture, pierce, bore, spur, goad. Priggish, dandified, foppish, affected. Prim, precise, demure, formal, starched. Prime, primal, first, capital, first-rate. Princely, royal, regal, stately, august, noble, Principally, chiefly, essentially, mainly. Print, mark, impress, stamp, imprint. Priority, precedence, preference. Pristine, first, primitive, original, old, former* - Privy, secret, private, personal, peculiar. Prize, s. seizure, capture, booty, spoil, loot. Prize, v. assess, value, esteem, rate, appraise c Probability, chance, likelihood, appearance. Procedure, proceeding, act, process, course. Proceed, move, pass, advance, arise, issue. SYNONYMS OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. $8? Procession train, march, caravan, retinue. Proclaim, advertise, announce, publish. Proclamation, degree, edict, ordinance, fiat. Proclivity, propensity, proneness, tendency. Procrastinate, delay, defer, adjourn, postpone. Procure, obtain, acquire, gain, get, reap. Prodigy, wonder, miracle, marvel, monster. Produce, product, profit, result, effect. Profess, affect, pretend, feign, own. Proffer, volunteer, offer, propose, tender. Proficient, adept, master, expert. Progeny, children, descendants. Progress, advancement, growth, progression. Project, s. design, place, scheme, contrivance. Project, v. shoot, discharge, throw, hurl. Prolific, productive, generative, fertile. Prolix, diffuse, long, prolonged, tedious. Prolong, protract, lengthen, extend, continue, prominent, eminent, conspicuous, marked. Promiscnous, mixed, unarranged, mingled Promise, word, engagement, assurance. Promote, encourage, aid, further, advance. Prompt, incite, animate, urge, impel. Prone, inclining, prostrate, flat, tending. Prop, maintain, sustain, support, stay. Prophesy, foretell, predict, prognosticate! Propitiate, conciliate, reconcile. Propitious, fortunate, promising, favorable. Proportion, rate, ratio, degree. Proportionate, adequate, equal, commensurate. Proposal, offer, tender, overture, proposition. Proprietor, possessor, owner, master. Propriety, expediency, fitness, justness. Prorogue, adjourn, postpone, delay, defer. Prosper, flourish, succeed, grow rich, thrive. Prosperity, well-being, weal, welfare, happiness. Prostrate, oppressed, trampled on, abject. Protect, defend, vindicate, guard, fortify, save. Protection, shield, defence, preservation, guard. Protest, assert, affirm, declare, predict, aver. Protract, extend, prolong, continue, delay. Protrude, jut, project, bulge, Shootout, suspend. Proud, stately, vain, lofty, arrogant, conceited. Proverb, adage, maxim, aphorism, saying, saw. Provision, food, supplies, clause, duty, function. Proximate, next, immediate, nearest, closest. Proximity, nearness, vicinity, neighborhood. Prudence, carefulness, judgment, discretion. Prurient, itching, craving, hankering, longing. Pry, scrutinize, peep, peer, look into, search. Public, common, general, open, notorious. Pull, draw, haul, gather, drag, tug. Punctilious, triflingly nice, particular, formal. Punctual, exact, precise, nice, particular. Pungent, acrid, acrimonious, piquant, smart. Punish, chastise, castigate, correct, chasten. Puny, petty, weak, tiny, dwarfish, trivial, trifling. Pupil, scholar, disciple, learner, student, ward. Pupilage, nonage, minority, boyhood. Purify, clarify, clear, cleanse. Purloin, steal, pilfer, filch, 'purpose, propose, intend, mean. Pursue, chase, hunt, track, follow, prosecute. Push, thrust, impel, urge, press, drive. Putative, supposed, reputed, credited, deemed. Putrefy, rot, decompose, corrupt, decay. QUAGMIRE, bog, morass, marsh, fen, swamp. Quaint, artful, curious, far-fetched, fanciful, odd. Quake, quail, shake, tremble, shudder, quiver. Qualification, capacity, fitness, capability. Qualify, fit, competent, adapt, suit, abate. Quantity, amount, sum, deal, portion, part. Quarrelsome, irritable, hot, fiery, irascible. Quarter, territory, district, locality, region. Queer, quaint, whimsical, odd, strange, eccentric. Quell, crush, calm, subdue, repress, suppress. Quench, extinguish, put out, stifle, check, cool. Querulous, complaining, fretting, repining. Query, question, inquiry, interrogatory. Quibble, cavil, evade, equivocate, shuffle. Quiet, v. calm, still, hush, lull, pacify. Quiet, s. ease, rest, repose, quietude, calm. Quit, relinquish, abandon, leave, forego, resign. Quite, altogether, completely, wholly, entirely. Quiver, quake, shake, tremble, vibrate, shiver. Quixotic, romantic, wild, freakish. Quota, share, contingent, proportion, rate. Quote, note, repeat, cite, adduce. RABID, mad, furious, raging, frantic. Rack, agonize, wring, torture, excruciate. Racy, spicy, pungent, smart, spirited, lively. Rage, s. anger, indignation, choler, fury, passion, Rage, v, storm, rave, fret, chafe, fume. Rail, censure, bluster, scold. Rake, libertine, debauchee, scrape, gather. Rakish, dissolute, licentious, libertine, loose. Rally, banter, mock, lidicule, deride, assemble. Ramble, s. excursion, tour, jaunt. Ramble, v. wander, stroll, roam, rove, range. Rambling, discursive, roving, desultory. Ransack, rummage, pillage, overhaul, explore. Ransom, emancipate, free, unfetter, Rant, bombast, fustian, cant. Rapacious, ravenous, voracious, greedy. Rapine, spoliation, depredation, robbery, pillage, Rapture, ecstasy, transport, delight, bliss. Rascal, scoundrel, rogue, knave, scamp. Rashness, temerity, precipitation, hastiness. Ratify, confirm, establish, substantiate, sanction. Ravenous, rapacious, greedy, voracious. Raving, distracted, frantic, mad, furious, angry. Raze, demolish, destroy, overthrow, ruin. Reach, touch, stretch, attain, gain, arrive at. Readiness, promptness, alacrity, aptness, knack. Realize, accomplish, achieve, effect, gain, get. Realm, kingdom, state, nation, empire, province. Reap, gain, get, acquire, obtain. Rear, lift, elevate, erect, breed, raise, train. Reason, s. motive, design, end, argument, proof. Reason, v. deduce, draw from, trace, infer. Reasonable, intelligent, rational, wise, judicious. Rebellion, insurrection, revolt. Rebound, recall, reverberate. Recall, revoke, reclaim, call back, annul, cancel. Recant, recall, abjure, retract, revoke. Recapitulate, repeat, recite, rehearse, enumerate, Recede, retire, retreat, withdraw, ebb. Receive, accept, take, admit, entertain. Recent, fresh, late, new, novel, modern. Reception, receiving, levee, receipt, admission. Recess, retreat, depth, niche, vacation. Reciprocal, mutual, alternate, interchangeable. Recite, relate, tell, repeat, rehearse, recapitulate* Reckoning, account, bill, charge, score. Reclaim, recall, reform, regain, recover. Recline, lean, rest, repose, lie. Recoil, rebound, roll, reverberate, shrink fronio Recollect, bear in mind, remember, think of. 583 ENCYCLOPEDIA OF VALUABLE INFORMATION. Recommend (See Commend). Reconcilable, placable, forgiving, consistent. Reconcile, conciliate, pacify, propitiate. Record, enroll, note, register, minute, chronicle. Records, annals, monuments, archives. Recreant, cowardly, base, dastardh , craven. Recreation, sport, pastime, play, amusement. Rectitude, justice, uprightness, integrity, virtue. Recumbent, leaning, lying, resting, reposing. Recur, resort, betake, return, revert. Redolent, odorous, aromatic, fragrant. Redound, tend, conduce, contribute, add. Redundant, superfluous, unnecessary. Re-echo, resound, repeat, ring, reverberate. Reel, stagger, totter, falter, roll. Refer, appeal, allude, advert, relate, belong. Referee, umpire, judge, arbitrator, arbiter. Reference, regard, relation, hint, allusion. Refined, polite, courtly, polished, genteel. Reformation, improvement, reform, amendment. Refresh, revive, enliven, cheer, renew, vivify. Refund, reimburse, pay back, repay, return. Refuse, v. deny, reject, repudiate, decline. Refuse, s. dregs, dross, scum, rubbish, leavings. Refute, disprove, falsify, negative. Regain, recover, retrieve, get back. Regal, royal, kingly, imperial, princely. Regal**, feast, entertain, delight, refresh, gratify. Register (See Record). Rehearse, narrate, repeat, recite, recount, tell. Reimburse, refund, repay, satisfy, indemnify. Rein, restrain, moderate, govern, control. Reject, repel, renounce, decline, refuse. Rejoice, delight, joy, gladden, exult, revel. Rejoinder, retort, parry, reply, answer. Relate, report, tell, recount, narrate, detail. Related, cognate, connected, kindred, akin. Relatives, kindred, kinsmen, relations. Relax, abate, slacken, loosen, soften, relent. Release, free, extricate, disengage, liberate. Relevant, fit, proper, suitable, appropriate. Reliance, trust, hope, dependence, confidence. Relief, succor, aid, help, redress, alleviation. Religious, pious, godly, holy, devout, sacred. Relish, taste, flavor, piquancy, gusto. Reluctant, unwilling, averse, loth, disinclined. Remainder, residue, rest, remnant. Remark, note, heed, comment, observe Remedial, healing, curative, mitigating. Remedy, help, relief, redress, cure, specific. Remember, recall, recollect, mind. Remnant (See Remainder). Remonstrate, object, protest, expostulate. Remorse, self-condemnation, anguish. Remote, distant, far, secluded, indirect. Remove, displace, dislodge, withdraw, suppress. Rend, tear, disunite, split, lacerate. Render, present, restore, return, requite. Renew, restore, furbish, revive, renovate. Repair, mend, retrieve, recover, restore. Repay, reimburse, reward, refund, return. Repeal, abolish, revoke, recall, reverse, rescind. Repeatedly, again and again, frequently, often, t Repel, reject, refuse, deter, repulse, beat back. Hepine, grumble, fret, grieve, murmur. Replace, reinstate, refund, restore. Reply, response, answer, rejoinder, replication. Report, announce, notify, tell, communicate. Repose, s. quiet, quietude, peace, ease, rest. Repose, v. rest, recline, lie, settle, confide. Represent, paint, sketch, portray, delineate. Representative, agent, commissioner, deputy t Repress, quell, crush, subdue, check, curb. Reprieve, pardon, acquittal, respite. Reprimand, chide, check, reprove, rebuke. Reproach, blame, taunt, upbraid, rebuke. Reprobate, villain, ruffian, miscreant, castaway* Reproduce, propagate, imitate, represent, copy. Reprove, chide, rebuke, reprimand, scold. Request, desire, beg, ask, beseech, entreat. Requite, reward, compensate, repay, punish. Rescind, revoke, repeal, annul, recall, reverse. Rescue, save, preserve, recover, recapture. Resent, resist, oppose, repel, rebel. Reserve, shyness, modesty, coyness, reservation- Reside, dwell, sojourn, abide, live. Resident, occupant, dweller, tenant, inhabitant. Residue (See Remainder). Resign, relinquish, leave, abandon, abdicate. Resist, withstand, oppose, check, thwart. Resort, v. fly to, retreat, repair, retire, go. Resort, 5\ haunt, retreat, recourse. Resound, echo, re-echo, ring, respond. Respect, regard, prefer, venerate, defer. Respite, reprieve, interval, stop, pause. Respond, reply, answer, rejoin, correspond. Restitution, return, reparation, amends. Rei-tive, obstinate, stubborn, impatient. Restrain, repress, check, stop, limit, hinder. Resume, recommence, begin again, renew. Retain, keep, hold, restrain, retard, detain. Retaliate, repay, revenge, requite, retort. Retard, clog, impede, obstruct, detain, defer. Retire, leave, depart, recede, retreat, withdraw. Retirement, seclusion, privacy, retreat. Retort, reply, rejoinder, answer, repartee. Retract, recall, revoke, recant, abjure, unsay, Retribution, penalty, punishment, requital. Retrieve, recover, rescue, regain, restore. Retrospect, review, reminiscence, survey. Return, reappear, recur, revert, repay. Reveal, disclose, show, divulge, expose, publish Revel, feast, carouse, luxuriate, banquet. Revenge, vengeance, retaliation, requital. Revengeful, unforgiving, spiteful, resentful. Revenue, produce, income, fruits, proceeds. Revert, return, recur, refer to. Revise, review, reconsider. Revoke, repeal, retract, rescind, annul, cancel. Revolt, rebel, resist, shock. Revolting, shocking, disgusting, frightful. Revolve, turn, circulate, whirl, twirl, wheel. Ridicule, laugh at, deride, mock, lampoon. Rifle, pillage, plunder, sack, strip, rob. Rightful, legitimate, true, lawful, fair. Riot, commotion, tumult, uproar, row, confusjqf* Ripe, ready, mellow, complete, mature. Rise, arise, mount, ascend, climb. Risible, laughable, ludicrous, comical, funny. Risk, hazard, stake, chance, endanger, dare. Rite, ceremony, observance, solemnity. Rival, antagonist, opponent, competitor. Roam, ramble, rove, wander, stray, stroll. Roar, thunder, peal, howl, yell, vociferate. Robbery, theft, plunder, pillage, larceny. Roll, v. revolve, wheel, trundle, wallow, peal. Roll, s. list, scroll, schedule, register, catalogue. Room, hall, chamber, apartment, space. Round, circular, entire, spherical, complete. Rout, discomfit, beat, defeat, overthrow. SYNONYMS OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 589 fwte, road, course, march, way, journey, path. Rove, wander, stroll, ramble, roam. Royal (See Regal.) Rubbish, fragments, debris, litter, wreck, dross. Rugged, uneven, jagged, rough, gruff, harsh. Ruinous, destructive, hurtful, deleterious. Rumor, hearsay, talk, fame, report, bruit. Rumple, pucker, crease, wrinkle, crumple. Run, flee, scamper, fly, hasten. Rupture, fracture, breach, burst, disruption. Ruse, trick, stratagem, dodge. Rush, stream, sweep, dash, press, roll. SAFE, sure, secure, certain, substantial. Sake, account, behalf, purpose, end, regard. Salary, wages, allowance, pay, stipend, hire. Salubrious, healthy, healthful, healing, sanitary. Salutation, greeting, address, welcome. Sameness, identity, oneness, monotony. Sample, specimen, model, pattern, example. Sapient, sagacious, discerning, knowing, sage. Sarcasm, satire, irony, chaff, ridicule, mockery. Satiate, glut, gorge, satisfy, surfeit. Satire (See Sarcasm.) Satisfy, please, gratify, convince, satiate, glut. Saturate, steep, soak, imbue. Saucy, impertinent, rude, impudent, insolent. Saunter, ramble, stroll, loiter, linger. Savory, tasty , piquant, tasteful, palatable. Saw, adage, proverb, maxim, byeword, saying. Scale, gamut, layer, flake, balance. Scanty, bare, pinched, insufficient, slender. Scarce, rare, singular, uncommon, unique. Scarcity, dearth, famine, lack, want. Scene, spectacle, show, sight, exhibition, view. Scheme, design, plan, project, theory, intrigue. Scholar, disciple, pupil, student, savant. Science, knowledge, learning, scholarship. Scoff, jibe, jeer, sneer, deride, taunt, twit. Scorn, contempt, disdain, mockery, sneer. Scraggy, lean, bony, thin, skinny, gaunt Scrap, bit, fragment, crumb, piece, morsel. Scribe, penman, writer, scribbler, scrivener. Scruple, hesitate, doubt, waver. Scrupulous, strict, nice, conscientious, precise. S rutinize, examine, sift, investigate. Season, time, period, occasion, term, spell. Seasonable, timely, fit, opportune, convenient Secular, -worldly, temporal, civil, lay, profane. Secure, certain, sure, safe, fast, fixed, snug. Sediment, dregs, dross, refuse, lees, grounds. Sedition, insurrection, rebellion, revolt, mutiny. Seem, look, appear. Seemly, fit, suitable, becoming, decent. Seldom, rarely, infrequently. Select, elect, prefer, choose, pick, cull. Sell, vend, dispose of, hawk, retail. Send, transmit, forward, despatch. Seniority, eldership, superiority, priority. Sensibility, feeline, perception, sensitiveness. Sensual, carnal, fleshy, voluptuous, animal. Sentence, decision, judgment, doom, passage. Sequel, end, close, termination, conclusion. Serene, calm, peaceful, unruffled. Series, course, process, succession, order. Serious, grave, solemn, weighty, solid, earnest Serve, aid, assist, help, ;ork for, forward. Service, advantage, use, Benefit. Servile, mean, low, abject, sneaking. Set, put, place, lay, arrange. Settle, arrange, adjust, regulate, organize. Sever, break, disconnect, dissever, separate. Several, sundry, divers, various, many. Shade, shadow, dim, obscure, cloud. Shake, tremble, shudder, shiver, quake, quivec. Shallow, superficial, flimsy, slight, Shame, disgrace, dishonor. Shape, form, fashion, mould, model. Share, portion, lot, division, quantity, quota. Shatter, shiver, derange, disorder. Shed, pour, effuse, spread, spill, diffuse. Shelter, cover, screen, lodge, protect. Shift, v. transpose, contrive, change, alter, veer. Shift, s. evasion, expedient, resource. Shine, glow, gleam, glisten, glitter, radiate. Shiver, shatter, break, quake, shudder, quiver. Shock, brunt, clash, blow, collision. Shocking, disgusting, revolting, dreadful. Short, brief, concise, curt, compendious. Showy, pompous, gorgeous, fine, gay, grand. Shrewd, sharp, acute, sagacious, keen. Shroud, veil, cover. Shudder, shake, tremble, quake, quiver. Shuffle, equivocate, quibble, cavil, evade. Shun, avoid, elude, evade. Shut, close, preclude. Shy, timid, reserved. Sight, seeing, preemption, view, vision, spectacle. Signalize, distinguish, exalt, immortalize. Signify, express, declare, intimate, imply. Silence, s. stillness, quiet, calm. Silence, v. gag, refute, hush, stifle. S-lly, simple, imbecile, foolish, witless, iinwise. Similar, resembling, alike, corresponding. Sin, wrong, wickedness, iniquity, crime, evil. Sink, droop, descend, suppress, conceal. Sketch, paint, depict, delineate, portray. Skilful, clever, expert, apt, dexterous, adroit Skill, aptitude, expertness, contrivance. Skulk, sneak, hide, cover, slink, shroud, veil. Slack, remiss, careless, negligent, backward. Slacken, loosen, unbind, relax, abate, flag. Slaughter, bloodshed, carnage, butchery. Slavish, drudging, servile, menial, abject. Slay, kill, murder, assassinate. Sleek, glossy, shiny, velvety, silken. Slender, small, trivial, slight, fragile, slim, thin. Slight, a. slender, slim, small, superficial. Slight, s. neglect, contempt, scorn, disdain. Slippery, smooth, glossy, unsafe, deceptive. Slothful, sluggish, lazy, inactive, idle, indolent Slovenly, loose, negligent, disorderly, untidy. Slow, dilatory, tardy, sluggish, tedious, dull. Sluggish (See Slothful). Slur, reflection, stain, spot, blemish. Small, little, diminutive, minute, slight, trivial. Smear, daub, besmear, begrime, varnish. Smell, fragrance, perfume, scent, odor. Smite, beat, strike, slay, kill, afflict, chasten. Smoke, fumes, vapor, nothing, moonshine. Smooth, a. suave, bland, even, level, plain. Smooth, v. level, flatten, ease, calm, mollify. Snare, trap, net, gin, spring. Snatch, pluck, pull, twitch, catch, clutch, grasp. Sneak, crouch, cringe, truckle, slink, skulk. Sneer, scoff, taunt, jibe, mock. Snub, rebuke, reprimand, humiliate, nip, clip. Snug, close, compact, concealed, comfortable. Soak, wet, moisten, steep, drench, saturate. Soar, rise, mount, tower, ascend, aspire. $90 ENCYCLOPEDIA OF VALUABLE INFORMATION. Social,, civil, civic, sociable, convivial, ^ofteu, humanize, mollify, mitigate. Sojourn, dwell, reside, lodge, rest, abide, stay. >olace, comfort, consolation, relief, xjle, only, solitary, single, alone, individual. Solicitous, apprehensive, uneasy, concerned. Solicitude, carefulness, concern, trouble, care. Solve, unriddle, clear up, resolve, explain. Song, ballad, carol, ditty, lay, strain, poem, soon, shortly, early, quick, quickly, promptly. Sorrow, affliction, distress, grief, trouble. Sound, ring, peal, clash, clang, investigate. Sovereign, regal, royal, imperial, principal. Space, room, interval, extent, expanse, field. Spacious, ample, roomy, capacious, extensive. Spare, V. afford, give, husband, store, forbear. Spare, a. meagre, scanty, frugal, stinted, lean. Sparkle, shine, flash, gleam, twinkle, glitter. Speak, converse, say, tell, talk, discourse, utter. Special, exceptional, peculiar, specific. Specify, particularize, state, designate, mention. Specimen, model, pattern, sample, illustration. Specious, colorable, plausible, show} 7 . Spectator, observer, bystander, onlooker. Speech, oration, address. Speedy, early, quick, fast, rapid, swift, fleet. Spirited, lively, racy, animated, vivacious. Split, cleave, break, burst, crack, divide. Spoil, destroy, mar, impair, injure, plunde" Spontaneous, voluntary, willing, gratuitous. Spot, place, sight, locality, speck, stain, blot. Spring, source, origin, rise, fountain Sprout, s. shoot, gc n, twig, stem, scion. Sprout, v. bud, germinate, shoot forth, spring. Spruce, neat, trim, tidy, foppish, dandified. Spur, goad, incite, urge, stimulate. Spurious, counterfeit, fictitious, unauthentic. Spurn, despise, disdain, scout, scorn. Spy, see, discern, discover, view. Squalid, foul, filthy, dirty, unclean, mucky. Squander, waste, consume, dissipate. Squeamish, fastidious, over-nice, scrupulous. Squeeze, press, pinch, push, gripe, cram. Stagnant, motionless, lifeless, tideless, standing. Staid, steady, sober, demure, grave, sedate. Stalwart, able-bodied, powerful. Stammer, stutter, hesitate, falter. Stand, stop, rest, stagnate, endure, halt. Standard, criterion, measure, gauge, test, rule. Standing, a. stagnant, permanent, fixed. Standing, s. status, ground, station, position. Starved, famished, lean, ill-fed, emaciated. State, condition, predicament, case, province. Stationary, immovable, fixed, motionless. Staunch, steadfast, fast, constant, reliable. Stay, staff, prop, support, buttress, sustainment. Steadfast, constant, staunch, firm, resolved. Steady, firm, fixed, constant, regular. Steal, purloin, pilfer, filch, embezzle. Steep, precipitous, abrupt, hilly, craggy. Step, pace, degree, grade, track, proceeding. Sterile, unfruitful, barren, desert, unproductive. Stern, harsh, severe, austere, rigid, rigorous. Stick, hold, fasten, adhere, attach, fix. Stigma, mark, brand, infamy, disgrace, blot. Stingy, close, mean, niggardly, sparing. Stint, limit, stop, restrict. Stipulate, bargain, contract, agree on, engage. Stir, budge, move, agitate, disturb, excite. Stock, hoard, store, fund, supply, accunmlate. Stolid, obtuse, heavy-headed, doltish, senseleifc, Stoop, bend, yield, condescend. Stormy, tempestuous, boisterous, blustering. Story, tale, narrative, incident. Straight, right, direct, undeviating. Strain, stretch, tighten, exert, filter. Stranger, foreigner, alien. Stray, rove, ramble, err, digress, deviate. Stream, current, tide, drift. Strength, power, might, authority, force, vigor. Stress, emphasis, force, accent, strain, weight. Stretch, spread, expand, extend, lengthen. Stricture, censure, blame, animadversion. Strike, hit, beat, smite. Strip, denude, divest, bare, despoil, rob, rifle. Strive, labor, struggle, aim. coiitc-ncL, contest- Structure, construction, building, edifice, fabric. Studious, diligent, thoughtful, careful, mindful* Study, thought, consideration, care, attention. Stun, stupefy, confound, bewilder, astonish. Stupendous, astounding, amazing, marvellous,. Stupid, stolid, dull, obtuse, heavy-headed. Sturd)', robust, strong, stalwart, muscular. Subject, matter, question, material, exposed. Submerge, inundate, drown, deluge, flood, sink. Submit, succumb, comply, yield. Subsequent, later, posterior, following. Subsist, exist, be, live, continue. Substitute, deputy, representative, proxy. Subterfuge, evasion, shift, quirk, subtility, dodgu, Subtile, fine, thin, rare, delicate, nice, acute. Subtle, cunning, crafty, astute, sly, wily, artfuL Subtract, deduct, subduct, withdraw, remove. Succeed, flourish, thrive, prosper, follow. Success, good fortune, prosperity, victory, issue,, Successful, fortunate, lucky, happy. Succession, order, series, rotation, lineage, race. Succinct, brief, short, concise, summary. Succumb, yield, submit, comply, resign, give in. Suffocate, smother, strangle, stifle, choke. Suffrage, vote, voice. Suggest, hint, allude, refer, intimate, propose. Sulky, sullen, heavy, dull, sluggish, gloomy. Sum, amount, quantity, total, whole, problem. Summary, short, brief, concise, compendious. Summit, top, height, culmination, acme, apex. Summon, call, fetch, cite, bid, challenge. Sumptuous, costly, expensive, dear, valuable. Sunder, part, break, separate, divide, disjoin. Sundry, many, different, several , various, divers. Superb, princely, grand, splendid, magnificent. Superficial, shallow, flimsy, slight, imperfect- Superior, higher, upper, noble, head. Superlative, highest, greatest, extreme. Supernatural, miraculous, preternatural. Supersede, overrule, annul, set aside, suspend. Supple, lithe, flexible, pliant, bending, yielding. Supplement, addition, appendix, postscript. Supporter, adherent, partisan, follower. Suppress, repress, crush, quell, restrain, stifle TASK, business, work, labor, toil, lesson. Tasteless, flat, insipid, mawkish, vapid, dead Tattle, babble, chatter, prattle, gossip. Tautology, verbosity, repetition, reiteration. Tax, toll, duty, rate, assessment, impost. Teacher, schoolmaster, profes? >r, preceptor. Teaching, instruction, trainin .education. Tear, rend, break, lacerate, sever, sunder. Tease, vex, plague, torment, irritate. SYNONYMS OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 591 Tempestuous, violent, boisterous, stormy, windy. Temporal, worldly, terrestrial, mundane. Temporize, fence, manoeuvre, procrastinate. Tenable, defensible, sound, reasonable. Tenacity, retentiveness, fixity, stubbornness. Tender, v. offer, proffer, produce, bid. Tender, a. mild, kind, bland, indulgent, gentle. Tenet, doctrine, dogma, principle, position. Tenor, meaning, drift, intent, sense, purport. /Tension, strain, force, tone, stretch, tightness. 'Terminate, close, end, conclude, complete, stop. Terrestrial, worldly, earthly, mundane. Terrible, awful, terrific, tremendous, fearful. Terrify, frighten, horrify, appal, scare. Testify, depose, declare, swear, attest, witness. Thankful, grateful, obliged. Thankless, ungracious, profitless, ungrateful. Theft, robbery, depredation, spoliation. Theme, subject, topic, text, essay. Theory, speculation, scheme, plea, hypothesis. Therefore, accordingly, consequently, hence. Thinness, slenderness, attenuation, rarefaction. Thought, idea, conception, imagination, fancy. Thraldom, slavery, enslavement, servitude. Thrilling, stirring, enlivening, awakening. Throb, palpitate, heave, beat. Throw, propel, cast, hurl, fling. Thrust, push, drive, force, impel, urge. Thwart, oppose, oppugn, resist, frustrate. Tickle, amuse, titillate, gratify. Tide, current, stream, course, influx. Tidings, news, intelligence, report, advice. Tidy, orderly, neat, spruce, clean, cleanly. Tie, band, ligament, ligature. Tight, tense, stretched, not slack. Time, duration, season, period, era, age, date. Timely, seasonably, opportune, judicious. Timid, timorous, fearful, afraid, pusillanimous. Tincture, tinge, dye, color, stain, impregnate. Tinge, flavor, taste, color, dye. Tint, shade, tinge, hue, color, stain, dye. Tiny, small, little, diminutive, wee, liliputian. Tip, point, extremity, top, cap. Tipsy, drunk, intoxicated, inebriated, fuddled. Tire, exhaust, fatigue, bore, weary, jade, harass. Tissue, web, fabric, texture. Tittle, jot, whit, iota, atom, grain. Toil, work, task, travail, pain, labor, drudgery. Tolerable, passable, ordinary, middling. Tomb, grave, sepulchre. Tone, style, manner, mode, sound, intonation. Tongue, speech, language, idiom, dialect, talk. Top, summit, apex, head, crown, surface. Topic, subject, theme, question, matter. Torpor, heaviness, lethargy, dullness, laziness. Torrid, burning, hot, parching, scorching. Torture, torment, anguish, agony. Tortuous, twisted, winding, crooked, indirect. Toss, pitch, cast, hurl, shake, rock, buffet. Totally, entirely, quite, altogether, fully. Totter, falter, reel, rock, tremble, shake. Touching, tender, affecting, moving, pathetic. Tough, strong, hard, firm, leathery, difficult. Tour, excursion, ramble, trip, jaunt, outing. Toy, play, sport, frolic, trifle. Trace, derive, deduce, follow, pursue, track. Track, way, road, path, mark, trace, footprint. Tract, district, region, quarter, plot, essay. Tractable, docile, manageable, amenable. Traditional, oral, uncertain, transmitted. Traffic, trade, exchange, commerce, intercourse. Tragic, fatal, calamitous, mournful, sorrowful. Trait, characteristic, line, feature. Tranquil, still, unruffled, peaceful, quiet. Transact, perform, conduct, manage, treat. Transaction, negotiation, occurrence, affair. Transcend, surmount, overstep, exceed, excel. Transcribe, copy, transfer. Transfer, make over, convey, remove, copy. Transform, change, metamorphose, transfigure. Transgress, pass, exceed, violate, infringe. Transgressor, offender, sinner. Transition, change, shifting, variation. Transparent, clear, limpid, lucid, obvious. Transport, bliss, ecstasy, rapture, carriage. Transpose, change, reverse, shift. Trap, snare, ambush, stratagem, pitfall. Trash, nonsense, twaddle, trifles, dross. Traverse, cross, pass, thwart, obstruct. Treason, treachery, disloyalty, disaffection. Treasure, riches, wealth, stock, store, reserve. Treatise, essay, pamphlet, brochure, tract. Treaty, convention, negotiation, agreement. Tremble, quake, shake, quiver, shudder, totter. Tremendous, awful, fearful, frightful, terrible. Tremulous, trembling, jarring, quivering-. Trench, s. drain, sewer, ditch, fosse, moat. Trench, v. encroach, infringe, invade. Trenchant, cutting, sharp, severe, sarcastic. Trend, incline, diverge, bend, tend, stretch. Trespass, violation, infringement, transgression. Tribulation, affliction, grief, distress, trouble. Trick, fraud, cheat, artifice, stratagem, guile. Trifle, s. bauble, toy, geegaw, kickshaw. Trifle, v. toy, play, dally, wanton. Trim, compact, snug, neat, nice, tidy, clean. Trite, stale, old, ordinary, commonplace. Triumphant, elated, victorious, exultant. Troop, assemblage, multitude, gang, band. Troublous, trying, troublesome, agitated. Truant, idling, loitering, vagabond, shirking. Truce, armistice, rest, cessation. Truck, genuine, actual, sincere, unaffected. Truly, sincerely, surely, unfailingly. Trumpery, trivial, worthless, tawdry. Trunk, stem, stalk, body, proboscis, chest, box* Trusty, faithful, reliable, strong, firm. Truth, fact, reality, veracity, verity, fidelity. Trying, experimental, testing, proving. Tug, haul, pull, draw, drag, struggle, strive. Tumble, fall, topple, drop, rumple, disturb. Tumult, ferment, outbreak, brawl, fray, riot. Tune, tone, air, melody, strain. Turf, clod, sward, peat, sod, horse-racing. Turncoat, renegade, trimmer, deserter. Turpitude, depravity, vileness, baseness. Tutor, teacher, preceptor, instructor, guardian- Twirl, turn, whirl, revolve, wind. Twit, taunt, mock, jeer, jibe, sneer, scoff. Tyrannical, cruel, severe, absolute, arbitrary. Tyrant, despot, autocrat, oppressor, persecutor. ULTERIOR, farther, more, distant, beyond. Ultimate, farthest, last, latest, final, eventual. Umbrage, offence, dissatisfaction, displeasure. Umpire, referee, arbitrator, judge, arbiter. Unanimity, accord, agreement, unity, concord. Unadvised, thoughtless, indiscreet, imprudent. Unanimous, agreeing, like-minded. Unbind, loosen, untie, unfasten, set-free. 592 ENCYCLOPEDIA OF VALUABLE INFORMATION. Unblemished, pure, spotless, unspotted. Unbounded, boundless, excessive, infinite. Unbridled, wanton, licentious, dissolute, loose. Unceasing, endless, continual, continuous. Unclean, dirty, foul, filthy, sullied. Unconcerned, careless, indifferent, apathetic. Uncouth, strange, odd, clumsy, ungainly. Uncover, reveal, strip, expose, lay bare, divest. Under, below, underneath, beneath, lower. Undergo, bear, suffer, endure, experience. Understand, know, comprehend, apprehend. Undertake, engage in, embark in, promise. Unfounded, false, groundless, baseless. Unfriendly, inhospitable, ungenial, unkind. Ungainly, clumsy, awkward, lumbering. Unhappiness, misery, wretchedness, distress. Uninterrupted, continuous, perpetual, endless. Unique, unequalled, uncommon, rare, choice, Unite, join, conjoin, combine, connect, add. Unison, harmony, concord, agreement, union. Unity, oneness, concord, uniformity. Universal, general, all, entire, total, catholic. Unreasonable, foolish, silly, absurd, ridiculous. Unrighteous, wrongful, unjust, unfair. Unrivalled, unequalled, unique, 'jnexampled. Unroll, unfold, open, discover. Unruly, ungovernable, unmanageable. Unseen, invisible, unnoticed, unperceived. Unsettle, disturb, derange, displace, ruffle. Untruth, lie, falsehood, fib, fiction, fabrication. Unusual, rare, unwonted, singular, uncommon. Uphold, maintain, defend, sustain, support. Uproar, tumult, row, riot, disturbance, brawl. Upset, overturn, overthrow, overbalance. Usage, custom, fashion, practice, prescription. Use, employ, exercise, occupy, practice, inure. Useless, unserviceable, fruitless, idle, profitless. Usurp, arrogate, seize, appropriate, assume. Utility, benefit, advantage, profit, service. Utmost, farthest, remotest, uttermost, greatest. Utter, a. extreme, excessive, sheer, mere, pure. Utter, v. speak, articulate, pronounce, express. VACANCY, chasm, hollow, cavity, opening. Vacant, empty, unfilled, unoccupied. Vagrant, wanderer, beggar, tramp, vagabond. Vain, useless, fruitless, empty, worthless. Valiant, brave, bold, valorous, courageous. Valor, courage, gallantry, boldness, bravery. Valuable, precious, costly, dear, expensive* Vanish, disappear, fade, melt, dissolve. Vanity, emptiness, conceit, self-conceit. Vanquish, defeat, conquer, subdue, surmount. Vapid, dull, flat, insipid, stale, tame. Vapor, fume, smoke, mist, fog, steam. Variation, change, alteration, diversity. Variance, disagreement, dissension, jarring. Vaunt, boast, bray, puff, hawk, advertise. Veil, .y. mask, visor, cloak, blind, screen, shade. Veil, v. screen, hide, intercept, mask, conceal. Velocity, swiftness, quickness, fleetness, speed. Vend, sell, retail, dispose of, hawk. Venerable, grave, sage, wise, old, reverend. Venom, poison, virus, spite, malice, malignity. Vent, opening, touch-hole, outlet, utterance. Venture, dare, adventure, risk, jeopardize. Venturous, venturesome, intrepid, daring, rash. Veracity, tru<-h, truthfulness, credibility. Verbal, ora' ^poken, literal, parole, unwritten. Verdict 'udgment, finding, decision, answer. Versed, skilled, practiced, conversant, clever. Version, interpretation, reading, rendering. Vex, provoke, tease, torment, harass, plague. Vibrate, oscillate, swing, sway, wave, thrill. Victim, sacrifice, food, prey, sufferer, dupe. Victuals, viands, bread, meat, provisions, fare. View, thought, notion, sentiment, opinion, end. Vigorous, healthy, strong, powerful, energetic. Villainous, base, mean, vile, depraved, knavish. Vindicate, justify, assert, uphold, support. Vindictive, spiteful, resentful, revengeful. Virgin, maid, maiden, girl, damsel. Virtuous, just, upright, moral, chaste, pure. Vision, sight, ghost, apparition, phantom. Vital, living, necessary, essential, indispensable. Vivacious, lively, brisk, gay, merry, racy. Vivid, lively, clear, lucid, bright, sunny. Vogue, usage, way, custom, fashion, practice. Volume, book, scroll, bulk, size, capacity. Voluntary, free, spontaneous, unconstrained. Vouch, attest, assure, warrant. Vulgar, common, general, popular, ordinary. Vulnerable, assailable, weak, exposed, tender. WAFT, transport, bear, convey. Wage, make, carry on, engage in, undertake. Waggish, frolicsome, funny, jocular, sportive. Waive, forego, relinquish, let go. Wake, waken, awaken, arouse, stir up, excite. Wakeful, wary, sleepless, watchful, vigilant. Wander, stroll, ramble, gad, rove, roam, urge. Wandering, vagrant, roving, strolling. Warlike, bellicose, martial, military. Ward, avert, parry, fend, repel, turn aside. Warm, affectionate, attached, devoted, ardent. Warning, notice, caution, admonition. Warrant, guarantee, insure, assure, secure. Wary, careful, cautious, circumspect, prudent. Wash, clean, rinse, wet, moisten, stain, tint. Watchful, alert, vigilant, attentive, cautious. Waver, hesitate, scruple, fluctuate, vacillate. Wavering, unsteady, unsettled, fluctuating. Way, method, plan, system, means, manner. Wayward, froward, obstinate, stubborn, unruly. Weak, feeble, infirm, enfeebled, debilitated. Weaken, enfeeble, debilitate, unnerve, dilute. Weakness, feebleness, infirmity, frailty, defect. Weal, prosperity, welfare, advantage, well-being. Wealth, riches, opulence, affluence, plenty. Wear, bear, carry, last, consume. Wearied, worn, tired, fagged, fatigued. Wearisome, tiresome, toilsome, laborious. Wedding, marriage, nuptials, espousals. Weep, bewail, deplore, bemoan, grieve, moan. Weight, heaviness, pressure, oppression, loaa. Wheedle, coax, cajole, flatter, entice, decoy. Whereas, seeing, since, inasmuch as. Whet, sharpen, incite, excite, provoke. Whirl, turn, revolve, rotate, wheel, veer, spin* Wholesome, nutritious, healthy, salubrious. Wide, broad, ample, large, expanded, diffuse. Wilfui, perverse, stubborn, self-willed. Wilfully, designedly, purposely, intentionally. Willingly, involuntarily, spontaneously. Wing, fly, mount, ascend, soar, tower. Wisdom, sense, knowledge, learning, prudences Wish, desire, long for, yearn, hanker, covet. Withstand, oppose, resist, thwirt, confront. Wizard, juggler, magician, conjurer, sorcerer. Woe, distress, sorrow, affliction, disaster. SYNONYMS OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 591 Work, labor, toil, drudge, strive, exert, ply. Workmanship, handiwork, handicraft. Worry, plague, tease, torment, vex, annoy. Worth, price, value, rate, desert, merit, virtue. Worthless, useless, valueless, frivolous, corrupt. Wrap, muffle, envelop, fold, encase. Wretchedness, misery, woe, distress. Wring, twist, wrench, wrest, distort, squeeze. Writer, scribe, penman, author, scribbler. Wrong, abuse, injure, maltreat, oppress. Wrongful, unjust, unfair, dishonest, iniquitous- Wry, distorted, awry, crooked. YEARN, hanker after, long for, desire, crave- Yearly, annually, year by year, per annum. Youth, boy, lad, minority, adolescence. Youthful, young, juvenile, boyish, girlish ZEAL, energy, fervor, ardor, earnestness. Zest, relish, gusto, flavor. 38 CHAPTER L. Foreign Words and Phrases in Common Use. LATIN WORDS AND PHRASES. &b initio : from the beginning. Ad captandum vulgus : to catch the rabble. Ad infinitum : to infinity, without end. Ad interim : in the mean time. Ad libitum : at pleasure. Ad referendum : for further consideration. Ad valorem : in proportion to the value. .5Jquo animo : with an unruffled mind. A fortiori : with stronger reason. Alias: otherwise; as, "Jones alias Brown." Alibi : elsewhere. Alma mater: a benign mother; applied generally to the University. A mensa et thoro : divorced from bed and board. Amor patrise : the love of our country. Anglice : in English. Anno Domini : [A.D.] in the year of our Lord. Anno Mundi : [A.M.] in the year of the world. Annus Mirabilis : the year of wonders. A poem of Dryden's, so called in commemoration of the great fire of London. A posteriori : from the effect to the cause. A priori : from the cause to the effect. Arcanum : a secret. Arcana imperil : state secrets. jVrgumentum ad hominem : an appeal to the professed principles or practices of the adversary. Argumentuin ad judicium : an appeal to the common- sense of mankind. Argumentum ad fidem : an appeal to our faith. Argumentum ad populum : an appeal to the people. Argumentum ad passiones : an appeal to the passion. Audi alteram partem : hear the other party. Bona fide : in good faith; in reality. Cacoethes scribendi, loquendi : an itch for writing ; for talking. Capias : a writ to authorize the seizure of the defend- , ant's person. Caput mortuum : the worthless remains. Certiorari : to be made more certain. Ceteris paribus : other circumstances being equal. Commune bonum : a common good. Compos mentis : in one's senses; a man of sane mind. Contra: against. Contra bonos mores : against good morals or manners. Cui bono ? Cui malo ? to what good to what evil will it tend? $94 Cum privilegio : wiih privilege, with peculiar privilege, Currente calamo : with a running pen : -with great rapidity. Gustos rotulorum : the keeper of the rolls and record. Data : things given or granted* De facto : in fact, in reality. De jure : in right, in law. Dei gratia : by the grace or favor of God. De mortuis nil nisi bonum : let nothing be said of /Atf dead but what is favorable. Deo favente juvante volente : with God's favor" - help will. Desideratum : a thing desired. Desunt cetera : the remainder is wanting. Dies faustus : a lucky day dies infaustus, an unlucky day. Domine, dirige nos : O Lord, direct us. dramatis personse : the characters of the drama, or th characters represented. Durante vita : during life. Durante placito : during pleasure. Ecce homo : behold the man. Ergo: therefore. Esto perpetua : let it be perpetual. Errata: errors erratum, an error. Et cetera : and the rest, and so on. Excerpta : extracts. Exempli gratia : by way of example : [contracted, E.g,^ and Ex. gr.~\ Ex officio : by virtue of his office. Ex parte : on one side; an "ex parte" statement, that is, a one-sided statement. Ex tempore, or, as an English word, extempore : with* out premeditation, without previous study. Fac simile, or, as an English word, facsimile : an en graved or lithographed resemblance of hand-writing . Fas est et ab hoste doceri : it is allowable to derive in struction even from an enemy. Felo de se : a suicide : in law applied to one who is supposed to have killed himself when in a sound state of mind. Fiat : let it be done. Fiat justitia, ruat coelum: let justice be done, though the heavens should fall. Filius nullius : an illegitimate son, the son of nobody. Flagraute bello : during hostilities. Gratis : for nothing, gratuitously. FOREIGN WORDS AND PHRASES IN COMMON USE. 59$ Hlnc illae lacrimae : hence proceed those tears. Hora fugit: time flies, or the hour flies. Homo sum ; humani nihil a me alienum puto : / ant a man, and deem nothing that relates to mankind^ foreign to my feelings. Hortus siccus : a collection of the leaves of plants in a dried state. Humanum est errare : to err is human. Ibidem : in the same place ; [contracted, ibid.] Idem : the same. Id est: that is : [contracted, i. e."\ Id genus omne : all persons of that description. Ignis fatuus : the meteor, or electrical phenomenon called " Will-o'-the-wisp:'' Ignoramus : a conceited ignorant pretender to knowl edge or learning. la loco: in this place. Imprimatur: let it be printed. Imprimis: in the flrst place. Impromptu : without study. In commendam : in trust. In terrorem : as a warning. In propria persona : in person. In statu quo : in the former state: just as was. In forma pauperis : as a poor man. In foro conscientise : before the tribunal of conscience. In re : in the matter of. Index expurgatorius : a purifying index. Iniquissimam pacem justissimo bello antefero : I prefer the most disadvantageous peace to the justest war. [The favorite maxim of Fox.] Innuendo : an oblique hint or insinuation. Intransitu: in passing. Inter nos : between ourselves. Invita Minerva : without the aid of genius. Ipse dixit : on his sole assertion ; he himself said it. Ipso facto : by the act itself. Ipso jure : by the law itself. Item: also. ^udex damnatur cum nocens absolvitur : the judge is condemned [or blamed] when a guilty man is ac quitted, or suffered to escape. Jure divino : by divine law. Jure humano : by human law. Jus civile : by the civil law. Jus gentium : the law of nations. Labor omnia vinc.it : labor surmounts every difficulty. \ Lapsus linguae : a slip of the tongue. Laudari a viro laudato : to be praised by a man who is himself the object of praise. Laudator teuiporis acti : a praiser of past times. Lex non scripta : the common law. Lex scripta : the statute law. Lex terrae : the law of the land. I4centia vatum : a poetical license- Litera scripta manet : what you have written **main. in black and white. Locum tenens : a deputy, a substitute. Locus sigilli [L. S ] : the place of the seal. Magna Charta : The Great Charter, THE BASIS op OUR I.AWS AND LIBERTIES. Magni nominis umbra: the shadow of a great name. Mandamus : a royal order or command. Medio tutissimus ibis : you will act wisely by steering & middle course. Memento mori : remember that you are to die. Memorabilia : matters deserving of record or rewetn- brance. Mens sibi conscia recti : a mind conscious to ttself qf rectitude. Meum et tuum : mine and thine. Minutiae : trifles, minute parts. Mirabile dictu : wonderful to tell. Mittimus : a writ to commit an offender to prison. Multum in parvo : much in little a, great deal in A few words. Mutatis mutandis : after making the necessary changes,. Necessitas non habet legem : necessity has no law. Nem. con. : Abbreviation for nemine contradicente* Nem, dis. : Abbreviation for nemine dissentiente : WITHOUT OPPOSITION. The former is used in the House of Commons ; the latter in the House :; ,sing. Onus probandi : the weight of proof , the burden of proving. Opprobrium medicorum : the reproach of the faculty. Omnes: all. O t si sic omnia : Oh ! that he had always done, or, spoken thus. O tempora, O mores ! O the time and the manners ! Otium cum dignitate : ease with dignity. Otium sine dignitate : ease without dignity. Par nobile fratrum [said ironically] : a noble pair of brothers. Particeps criminis : an accomplice. Passim : everywhere. Peccavi: I have sinned. Pendente lite : while the suit, or contest, is pending* Per fas et nefas : through right and wrong. Per saltum : by a leap. Perse: by itself. Poeta nascitur, non fit : Nature and not study, must form a poet. Posse comitatus : the power of the county. Postulata : things required. Praemonitus, prsemunitus: forewarned , forearmed. Prsemunire : a writ issued against individuals who hold illegal communication with the see of Rome. Prima facie : on the first view, or appearance; atjirst sight. Primum mobile : the main spring, the first impulse. Principiis obsta : oppose the first appearance of evil. Prt aris et focis : for our altars and firesides. Prc bono publico: for the public good. Pro and con : for and against. Pro hac vice : for this turn. Pro loco et tempore : for the place and time. Pro re nata : for a special business: as occasion serves. Pro salute animse : for the health of the soul. Pro rege, lege, et grege : for the king, the constitution, and the people. **ro tempore : for the time. Punica fides : Carthaginian faith treachery. Quantum : how much. Quantum mutatus ab illo ! How changed from what he once was! Quidnunc? what now f [applied to a news-hunter. ~\ Quid pro quo : tit for tat. Quoad hoc : to this extent. Quoanimo? with what purpose, mind, or intention f Quo jure : by what right. Quoad : as far as. Quod erat demonstrandum : which was meant to /* shown, or demonstrated. Quondam : formerly. Quorum : of whom ; one of the quorum. This des cription of a justice of the peace is taken from the words of his " dedimus." Quo warranto ? by what warrant? A writ lying against the person, who has usurped any franchise or liberty against the king or state. Rara avis : a rare bird, a prodigy. Re infecta : without attaining his end. Requiescat in pace ! may he rest in peace! Res angusta dorni : straitened circumstances in family matters, in the domestic economy. Respice finem : look to the end. Respublica : the commonwealth. Resurgam : I shall rise again. Rex : a king. Regina : a queen. Senatus consultum : a decree of the senate. Seriatim : in order. Sic itur ad astra : such is the way to immortality. Sic passim : so everywhere. Sic transit gloria mundi : thus passes away the glory of the world. Sine die : without specifying any particular day, to an indefinite time. Sine qua non : an indispensable condition. Stat magni nominis umbra : he stands under the sAa- dow of a mighty name, or, he stands shaded by a mighty name. Sua cuique voluptas : every one has his own pleasures. Suaviter in modo, fortiter in re : gentle in [the] man ner, but vigorous in [the] deed, or, vigorous in action. Sub prena: under a penalty. Sub silentio : in silence. Sui generis : of its own kind. Summum bonum : the chief good. Summum jus, summa injuria: extreme taw is extreme injustice. Supersedeas : a writ to stay proceedings. Suppressio veri : a suppression of the truth. Supra: above. Suum cuique : let every man have his own. Taedium vitse : weariness of lift Tempora mutantur : the times are changed. Toties quoties : as often as. Toto ccelo : by the whole heavens as opposite 03 iei* poles. Tria juncta in uno : three joined in one. Ubi supra : where above-mentioned. Una voce : with one voice, unanimously. Ultimus : the last [contracted #//.] Utile dulci : the useful with the agreeable. Uti possidetis : as you possess, or, as you now at*. FOREIGN WORDS AND PHRASES IN COMMON USE. 597 Vade mecum : go with me a constant companion, [usually applied to a publication intended for the pocket.] Verbatim : word for word. Versus : against. Veni, vidi, vici : I came, I saw, I conquered. [Ctesar's despatch to the Roman Senate.] Venire facias : the writ for summoning a jury. Venienti occurrite morbo : meet the approaching dis ease. Vale : farewell. Via : by the way ef. Vice : in the room of. Vice versa : the terms being exchanged. Vide : see [contracted into v.~\ Vide ut supra : see as above see the preceding state ment. Vi et armis : by main force. Vincit amor patriae : the love of our country is thk predominant feeling. Vis inertise : a property of matter. Vis poetica : poetic genius. Viva voce : orally, by word of mouth : a viva voce ex amination, or, an oral examination. Vivat Regina ! long live the Queen! Vivida vis animi : the lively vigor of genius. Viz.: [videlicit] namely. Vox et praeterea nihil : a voice and nothing more. Vox populi, vox Dei : the voice of the people is th* voice of God. Vulgo: commonly. Vultus est index animi : the counlenc-w-e is th* index, of the mind. FRENCH WORDS AND PHRASES. Aide-de-camp : an assistant to a general. A la bonne heure : well and good, very well. Arriver a la bonne heure : to come just in time, at the right moment. Affaire de cosur : a love affair. A la mode : according to the fashion, in fashion. A propos : seasonably, opportunely, to the purpose. Au fond : to the bottom, or, main point, after all. A fond : thoroughly. Bagatelle : a trifle. Beau monde : persons of fashion, the world of fashion, the fashionable world. Bel-esprit : a man of wit. The plural is beaux esprits : men of wit. Bien entendu : of course, be it understood, it being understood. Billet doux : a love-letter. Bon mot : a piece of wit, a witticism, or, witty saying. Bon ton ; in high fashion, in good taste. Bon gre* mal gre" : willing or unwilling, whether one will or not. Bonjour: good-day ; good-morning. Bonsoir: good-evening ; good-night. Boudoir: a lady 's small private apartment. Bref : in short. Carte blanche : unconditional terms : power to au ac cording to one's own discretion. N. B. "Carte blanche" literally means a blank card or ticket ; a card or ticket not written on. Chateau : a country seat, abode, or, residence. Chef d'oeuvre : a master-piece. Ci-devant: formerly: my ci-devant preceptor, that is, my former preceptor. Comme il faut : properly, as it should be. Conge d'e"lire : generally used in reference to the elec tion of a bishop or dean : permission to choose, or, gleet. Coup de grace : the finishing stroke. Coup d'ceil : a glance. Coup de main : a sudden or, bold enterbrl.se. undertak ing. Coup d'etat : a stroke of state policy. De*but: a first appearance in public-' in the fashiona ble world, a coming out. De*pot : a storehouse. Douceur: a present, in return for a situation, or, ap pointment, procured by private influence: in other words, a bribe. N. B. The word is used in FRANCE simply to mean reward, profit, or, gratuity. Dieu et mon droit : God and my right. Eclat: distinction, applause. EleVe: a pupil. Enfin : at length at last. En masse : in a body, or, mass. En passant: by the way, often applied to -. _-2mark casually made. Ennui : wearisomeness, lassitude, inability for exer- tion. Faux pas : a deviation from the path of virtue, an acf of indiscretion : literally, a false step. Fete: a festival: entertainment. Fracas : a fuss about a trifle, or, a mere nothing, 6~ hubbub. Honi soit qui mal y pense : evil be to him that evti thinks. Hauteur: haughtiness: a ridiculous affectation of pride and reserve. Je ne saisquoi: I know not what: an expression ap plied to something, that cannot well be Described that baffles description. Jeu de mots : a play upon words. Jeu d' esprit: a display of wit : a witticism. Mal a propos : unseasonable, ill-timed, out of place. Mauvaise honte : sheepishness, extreme bashfulnest. ENCYCLOPEDIA OF VALUABLE INFORMATION. Mot du guet : IWot de passe : a watchword. Naivet^ : artlessness, unstudied simplicity ', ingenuous ness, innocence. Outr: outrageous; out of all reason, or, character: unreasonable, preposterous. N. B. The word is used in FRANCE, simply to mean exaggerated. Petit maitre : a fop : a coxcomb : a puppy. ( Brote'gd : one who is patronized, and whose interest is \ promoted by a person of rank. N. B. The femi nine is protegee. Rouge : red: a kind of paint, sometimes used by ladies for painting their cheeks. Sans : without. Sang-froid : coolness, indifference "He heard the news with the greatest sang-froid^ that is to say, "he took it very easily " or, he listened to it with the greatest composure. Savant: a learned man: a man of science: one of the literati, that is, one of the learned world. N. B. The plural of savant is savants, learned men , men of science. Soi-disant; self-styled; a pretender to knowledge or rank; as, a soi-disant colonel: a soi-disant mathe\ matician. The epithet is often applied to literary quacks. Tapis: carpet: "the affair is on the/a/>w," that is, "the affair is in agitation, in contemplation." Trait : feature, a touch of character. Tete-a-tete : a private conversation between two per* sons. Unique: "the book is unique,' 1 '' that is, "is the only one in existence." Valet-de-chambre : a man who attends a gentleman who is dressing himself. Vive le roi I long live the king I xVxVxVxtxx+xx+xxixx+xxfxxfxxfxxfx^ XlXXi.XXi.XX|X XX 4 CHAPTER U. Abbreviations used in Writing and Printing. A. or Ans. Answer. A. A. S. Fellow of the American Academy. A. B. Bachelor of Arts. Acct. Account. A. C. or B. C. Before Christ. A. D. In the year of our Lord. A. M. Master of Arts ; Before noon ; In the year of the world. /t. Aged. Abp. Archbishop. Agt. Agent. Att'y. Attorney. Bart. Baronet. Bbl. Barrel. B. V. Blessed Virgin. C. C. P. Court of Common Pleas. Caps. Capitals. . Capt. Captain. Cash. Cashier. Cent, or C. A Hundred. Chap. Chapter. Chron. Chronicles. Cl. or Clk. Clerk. Co. Company ; County. Col. Collector ; Colonel ; Colossians. Coll. College ; Colleague. Com. Commissioner ; Commodore. Const. Constable. Con. Contra ; on the other hand. Cor. Corinthians. Qor. Sec. Corresponding Secretary. C. O. D. Collect on Delivery. Cr. Credit; Creditor. C. S. Keeper of the Seal. Cts. Cents. Cur. Current ; this month. Cwt. A hundred weight. Cyc. Cyclopaedia. D. D. Doctor of Divinity. Dan. Daniel. Dea. Deacon. Deg. Degree. Dept. Deputy. Deut. Deuteronomy. Do. or Ditto. The same. Dr. Debtor ; Doctor. E. East. Eccl. Ecclesiastes. Ed. Editor ; Edition. E. g. For example. Eng. England , English, Ep. Epistle. Eph. Ephesians; Ephraim. Esa. Esaips. Esq. Esquire. Etc. Et cetera ; and so forth. Ex. Example ; Exodus. Exr. Executor. Ez. Ezra. Fr. France; Francis. Fahr. Fahrenheit. F. R. S. Fellow of the Royal Society. Gal. Galatians. Gen. General ; Genesis. Gent. Gentleman. Gov. Governor. G. P. O. General Post Office. H. B. M. His or Her Britannic Majesty. Heb. Hebrews. Hhd. Hogshead. Hist. History ; Historical. Hon. Honorable. H. R. House of Representatives. H. S. S. Fellow of the Historical Society. Hund. Hundred. Ibid. In the same place. I. e. That is (id est). Id. The same. I. H. S. Jesus the Saviour of men. Inst. Instant. Isa. Isaiah. Jac. Jacob. Jas. James. Jer. Jeremiah. Jno. John. Josh. Joshua. Judg. Judges. Jun. or Jr. Junior. K. King; Knight. K. G. Knight of the Garter. Km. Kingdom. Kt. Knight. Lat. Latitude ; Latin. Lbs. Pounds. Ld. Lord ; Lady. Ldp. Lordship. Lev. Leviticus. Lieut. Lieutenant. LL. D. Doctor of Laws. Lon. Longitude. L. S. Place of the Seal. M. Marquis. Maj. Major. Matt. Matthew. Math. Mathematics. M. C. Member of Congress. M. D. Doctor of Medicine. Messrs. Gentlemen ; Sirs. M. P. Member of Parliament. Mr. Master ; or Mister. Mid. Midshipman. Mrs. Mistress. MS. Manuscript. MSS. Manuscripts. N. North. N. B. Take Notice. Neh. Nehemiah. No. Number. N. S. New Style. Num. Numbers. Obj. Objection. Obt. Obedient. O. S. Old Style. P. Page. Pp. Pages. Parl. Parliament. Per. By the (as per yard; the yard). Per cwt. By the hundred. Pet. Peter. Phil. Philip ; Philippians. Philom. A lover of learning. P. M. Post Master ; Afternoon. P. O. Post Office. Pres. President. Prin. Principal. Prob. Problem. Prof. Professor. Prov. Proverbs. P. S. Postscript. Ps. Psalm. Pub. Doc. Public Document. Q. Queen ; Question. Qr. Quarter. Q. M. Quarter Master. Regr. Register. Rep. Representative. Rev. Reverend ; Revelation. Rom. Romans. Rt. Hon. Right Honorable. S. Shilling; South. 5. A. South America. Sam. Samuel. Sch. Schooner. Sec. Secretary ; Section. Sen. Senator ; Senior. Serg. Sergeant. Servt. Servant. Ss. Namely. St. Saint; Street. Supt. Superintendent. Surg. Surgeon. Switz. Switzerland. Thess. Thessalonians. Tho. Thomas. Tim. Timothy. Ult. (Ultimo}. The Last. U. S. A. United States Army. U. S. N. United States Navy, V. or Vide. See. Viz. Namely. Vols. Volumes. Vs. (Versus). Against. W. West. W. I. West Indies. Wp. Worship. Yd. Yard. Yr. Year. 6. And. &c. And so forth. 59$ CHAPTER I<\. Conundrums. 2. Where was Humboldt going when he was thirty- nine years old ? a: Which is the most ancient of the trees ? 3. Which are the most seasonable clothes ? 4. Why are lawyers and doctors safe people by whom to take example ? 5. What injury did the Lavinia of Thomson's "Sea sons " do to young Palemon ? 6. Why are wooden ships (as compared with iron clads) of the female sex ? 7. At what time of life may a man be said to belong to the vegetable kingdom ? 8. Which are the lightest men Scotchmen, Irishmen or Englishmen ? 9. Which are the two hottest letters of the alphabet ? 10. Why is cutting off an elephant's head widely diff erent from cutting off any other head ? 11. Who is the man who carries everything before him? 12. Which are the two kings that reign in America? 13. When may a man's pocket be empty and yet have something in it? 14. Why is a clock the most modest piece of furniture ? 15. Why is U the gayest letter in the alphabet? 16. Why are corn and potatoes like Chinese idols? 17. Which is the merriest sauce? 18. Why is a cat going up three pairs of stairs like a high hill ? 19. Why is a lead-pencil like a perverse child? 20. Why is a horse like the letter O ? 21. Why are penmakers inciters to wrong-doing? 22. Why should we never sleep in a railway carriage? 23. When is a boat like a heap of snow? 24. What 'bus has found room for the greatest number of people ? 25. Who is the first little boy mentioned by a slang word in the History of England? 26. Why is Macassar oil like a chief of the Fenians ? 27. Why is a nabob like a beggar? 28. What sort of day would be good for running for a cup? 29. What is the difference between a spendthrift and a feather bed? 30. Is there any bird that can sing the " Lays of An cient Rome?" 31. What have you to expect at a hotel? \2. What comes after cheese ? 33. When does a man sit down to a melancholy d? , sert? 34. What notes compose the most favorite tunes, and how many tunes do they compose? 35. When may a man be said to breakfast before he gets up ? 36. Why is a hotel waiter like a race-horse? 37. When is the soup likely to run out of ths sauce pan? 38. What is that word of five letters, of which, when you take away two, only one remains. 39. When are volunteers not volunteers ? 40. Why is the letter B like a fire-? 41. Why is the letter R a profitable letter? 42. What word may be pronounced quicker by adding a syllable to it. 43. What is the difference between a dairymaid and a swallow ? 44. Which animal has the most property to carry with him when he travels, and which two have the least? 45. How many sticks go to the building of a crow's nest? 46. Why was Robit/son Crusoe not alone on his desert island ? 47. Why are there no eggs in St. Domingo ? 48. What is invisible blue ? 49. Which is the most wonderful animal in the farm yard? 50. Which peer wears the largest hat ? 51. When does beer become eatable ? 52. Why is a patent safety Hansom cab a dangerous carriage to drive in ? 53. Why are bakers very self-denying people ? 54. Why is whispering in company like a forged bank note ? 55. Which constellation resembles an empty fire-place? 56. What is the last remedy for a smoky chimney ? 57. What relation is that child to its father who is not its father's own son ? 58. When does a cow become real estate ? 59. Why are dissenters like spiders ? 60. Why did Marcus Curtius leap into the gulf fa Rome? 61. Why is a soldier like a vine? 62. Which is heavier, a half or a full moon ? 63. When should you avoid the edge of the river? 600 CONUNDRUMS. 6oi 64. Why must a fisherman be very wealthy ? 65. If the fender and fire-irons cost three pounds, what will a ton of coals come to ? 66. Why are the fourteenth and fifteenth letters of the alphabet of more importance than the others? 67. What is the way to make your coat last ? 68. Why is an alligator the most deceitful of animals ? 69. Why is it impossible that there should be a best horse on a race-course ? 70. Why are fowls the most economical creatures that farmers keep ? yi. When may a ship be said to be in love ? 72. What relation is the door-mat to the scraper ? 73. What vegetable most resembles little Fanny's tongue ? 74. Why is gooseberry jam like counterfeit money? 75. What is that which has never been felt, seen nor heard never existed, and still has a name ? 76. Why is a congreve-box without matches superior to all other boxes ? 77. Why is a postman in danger of losing his way ? 78. What is that which comes with a coach, goes with a coach, is of no use to the coach, and yet the coach can't go without it ? 79. What three letters give the name of a famous, 3.0- man general? 80. Why would it affront an owl to mistake him for a pheasant ? Si. If your uncle's sister is not your aunt, what rela tion does she bear to you ? 82. Of what profession is every child ? 83. Why is the letter i in Cicero like Arabia ? 84. Why is troyweight like an unconscientious person ? 85. Why is chloroform like Mendelssohn ? 86. When is a sailor not a sailor ? 87. Why does a duck put its head under water ? 88. What wild animals may be correctly shut up in the same enclosure ? 89. What makes a pair of boots ? 90. Can you tell me why A hypocrite sly Is the man who best knows Upon how many toes A pussy-cat goes ? 91. What tree is of the greatest importance in history ? 92. Which is the most moral food cake or wine ? 93. Why is a good resolution like a fainting lady at a ball? 94. Why is a carpenter like a languid dandy? 95. When does a donkey weigh least ? 96. What is the last blow a defeated ship gives in battle ? 97. What had better be done when there is a great rent on a farm ? 98. Why is an uncomfortable seat like comfort? 99. What two letters do boys delight in, to the annoy ance of their elders? 100. What single word would you put down for jfap borrowed from you? 101. When is * iver like a young lady's letter ? 102. W i is the* Bank of England like a thrush? ioi- v ov wouia a pelican make a good lawyer? 104. Describe a suit ot old clothes in two letters. 105. Which is the proper newspaper for invalids? 106. What American poet may be considered equal to three-filtix of the poets, ancient and modern? 107. What preci:-us stc'ie is like the entrance to afield? 108. When is a m~a .u;2 frozen rain ? 109. Which of the stars should be subject to the game- laws? no. What garden crop would save draining? in. When does a cook break the game-laws? 112. Spell an interrogation with one letter, 113. When is a bill not a bill? 1 14 What pen ought never to be used for writing? 115. When is a subject beneath one's notice? 116. Why is a loyal gentleman like a miser? 117. Why is the letter W like the Queen's ladies? 118. What tune makes everybody glad? 119. Why are Dover cliffs like the letter D ? 120. When is a straight field not a straight field? 121. Why is a fish-hook like the letter F? 122. What letter is that which is in-visible, but nevtt out of sight ? 123. How would you express in two letters that you were twice the bulk of your companions? 124. Why is attar of roses never moved without orders? 125. If the Greeks had pushed Pan into the Bay of Salamis, what would he have been when he came out? 126. When is a lady's arm not a lady's arm ? 127. What is that which occurs once in a minute, twice in a moment, and not once in a hundred years ? 128. What is an old lady in the middle of a river Hke? 129. When is a fish above its station ? 130. When do we witness cannibalism in England? 131. When is a boy not a boy ? 132. When is a piece of wood like a queen ? 133. When is a skein of thread like the root of an oak? 134. What is that which has a mouth but never speaks, and a bed but never sleeps in it ? 135. What word contains all the vowels in their proper order ? 136. What letter used to be distributed at tourn-unentsf 137. Why is a carriage going down a steep hill like St George ? 138. Why is I the happiest of all the vowels? 139. Why should you never employ a tailor who does not understand his trade ? 140. Why are your eyes like friends separated by di tant climes? 141. Why is a bad-tempered horse the best hunter? 6O2 ENCYCLOPEDIA OF VALUABLE INFORMATION. 142. What sort of a face does an auctioneer like best? 143. Why is the letter F like a cow's tail ? 144. What is the difference between a husbandman and a seamstress ? 145. What is it of which we have two every year, two every week, and two every day ? 146. H >w does a boy look if you hurt him ? 147. \Vhat medicine ought to be given to misers? 148. Why do British soldiers never run away? 149. What weight or measure would no competitor wish to be ? 150. What part of a railway carriage resembles Fanny when she is sleepy ? 151. Why is the letter R most important to young people ? 152. Why is a healthy boy like England ? 153. When is a book like a prisoner in the States of Barbary ? 154. What wind would a hungry sailor prefer? 155. On which side of a pitcher is the handle? 156. When may a chair be said to dislike you? 157. What is that which divides by uniting and unites by dividing? 158. Why are young children like castles in the air ? 159. What is higher and handsomer when the head is off? 1 60. Why is a proud girl like a music-book? 161. Why is a short negro like a white man? 162. Why are bells the most obedient of inanimate things? 163. Why are boxes at a theatre the saddest places of public amusement ? 164. Why is the most discontented man the most easily satisfied? 165. Why are ripe potatoes in the ground like thieves? 166. Why is it unjust to blame cabmen for cheating us? 167. When is a thief like a reporter? 168. When is the French nation like a baby ? 169. What does a lamp-post become when the lamp is removed ? 170. What things increase the more you contract them ? 171. Why is a mother who spoils her children like a person building castles in the air ? 172. When you listen to your little brother's drum, why are you like a just judge? 173. When is a tourist in Ireland like a donkey? 174. Who always sits with his hat on before the Queen ? {75. Why is a pig in the drawing room like a house on fire ? lj6. When is a river not a river? 377. What trade never turns to the left? 178. What trade is more than full ? 179. Why is electricity like the police when they are wanted? 180. When is a borough like a ship ? 181. Why are guns like trees ? 182. What town is drawn more frequently than other? 183. Who was the first postman ? 184. Why is little Prince Albert Victor like the two things in which children most rejoice? 185. What is the key-note to good breeding? 186. What is the difference between a sailor and a sol dier? 187. Why is a rook like a farmer? 188. Why is anger like a potato? 189. Why does pedestrianism help arithmetic ? 190. What trees are those which are the same after being burned as they were before ? 191. What is the best thing to do in a hurry? 192. Why are cobblers like Sir William Ferguson ? 193. Which is the ugliest hood ever worn ? 194. What nation will always overcome in the end? 195. When is butter like Irish children? 196. On what tree would an ode be written which would name an Irish M. P. ? 197. What have you now before you which would give you a company, a veiled lady, and a noisy toy? 198. What is the difference between Kossuth and a half-starved oyster? 199. If Neptune lost his dominions, what would he say? 200. Why is a Dorcas Society like an assembly of di honest people ? 201. It went before Queen Mary/ poor thing ! It fol' lowed King William to the end poor man ! 202. Why is the letter A like noon ? 203. Why is a five pound note more than five sover eigns? 204. When was the greatest destruction of poultry? 205. In what respects were the Governments of Algieni and Malta as different as light from darkness? 206. When is a young lady's cheek not a cheek? 207. When is her nose not a nose? 208. When is a boy not a boy ? 209. When is a ship foolishly in love ? 210. When is a ship like Harry's mamma? 211. What part of London would a horse most like to live in ? 212. What do you put before nine to make it three less by the addition ? 213. Why should you never attempt to catch the 12.50 train ? 214. Who is the best pew-opener ? 215. Given A B C, to find Q. 216. Which is the easier profession, a doctor's or 3 clergyman's ? 217. What word of four syllables represents Sin riding on a little animal ? CONUNDRUMS. 603 *l8. If I -were in the sun and you out of it, what would the sun become ? 219. Why is a tallow chandler the most unfortunate of all mankind? 220. What is it that walks with its head downwards ? 221. Why are the hours from one to twelve like good Christians ? 222. Why is a hen walking across the road like a con spiracy ? 223. On which side of the church is the yew-tree planted ? 324. Why cannot Napoleon III insure his life ? 225. How many wives does the Prayer-book allow? 226. Why have ducks no hereafter? 227. Why is a dog with a lame leg like a boy at rith metic ? 228. Why is an engine-driver like a school-masWr ? 229. What will a leaden bullet become in water ? 230. Why is a person of short stature like an almanac ? 231. Why is the smoke of tobacco like Port wine ? 232. Why is a photograph like a member of Parlia* ment? 233. Why is lyondon Bridge like merit ? 234. That which every one requires, that which every one gives, that which every one asks, and that which very few take. ANSWERS TO CONUNDRUMS. 9- 10. ii. 12. 35- 16. 17- 18. 19. 20. 21. 32- 33- 34- 35. Into his fortieth year. The elder tree. Pepper and salt. Because they practice their professions. She pulled his ears and trod on his corn. Because they are the weaker vessels When long experience has made him sage. Englishmen. In Scotland there are men of Ayr (air), in Ireland men of Cork ; but in England are lightermen. K. N. (Cayenne). Because when you separate the head from the body, you don't take it from the trunk. The footman. Smo-king and soa-king. When it has a hole in it. Because it covers its face with its hands, and runs down its own works. Because it is always in fun. Because they have ears which can't hear, eyes which cannot see. Caper sauce. Because she's a-mountain ! It never does right (write) of itself. Because Gee (G) makes it go ? Because they make people steel (steal) pens, and say they do write (right). Because the train always runs over sleepers. When it is a-drift. Columns. Chap. I. Because it is a head (s) centre. He is an India gent (indigent) . A muggy day. One is hard up and the other soft down. Yes ; they are Macaw-lays (Macaulays); Inn-attention. Mouse. When he sits down to wine (whine) and pine. Bank notes, and they make (four) fortunes. When he takes a roll in bed. 36. Because he runs for cups, plates, and stakes (steaks). 37. When there's a leek (leak) in it. 38. Stone. 39. When they are mustered (mustard). 40. It makes oil, foil. 41. Because it makes ice into Hce. 42. Quick. 43. One skims milk and the other skims water. 44. The elephant the most, because he carries a trunk. The fox and cock the least, as they have only a brush and comb between them. 45. None ; they are all carried to it. 46. Because there was a heavy swell on the beach and a little cove running up into the land., (This riddle is a slang one.) 47. Because they banished the whites and cast off their yoke (yolk). 48. A policeman wJ en he is wanted. 49. A pig, because he is killed first and cured after wards. 50. The one who has the largest head. 51. When it is a little tart. 52. Because the cabman always drives over your head. 53. Because they sell what they knead (need) them selves. 54. Because it is uttered but not allowed (aloud). 55. The Great Bear (grate bare). 56. Putting the fire out. 57. His daughter. 58. When she is turned into a field. 59. Because they are in-sects. 60. Because he thought it a good opening for a young man. 61. Because he is 'listed, trained, has ten drills (ten drils), and shoots. 62. The half, because the full moon is as light again. 63. When the hedges are shooting and the hull-rushes out. 64. Because his is all net profit. 604 ENCYCLOPEDIA OF VALUABLE INFORMATION. 65. Ashes. 66. Because we cannot get on (O N) well without them. 67. To make your waistcoat first. 68. Because he shows an open countenance in the act of taking you in. 69. Because there's always a better. 70. Because for every grain they eat they give a peck. 71. When she wishes for a mate. 72. A step-father (farther). 73. A scarlet runner. 74. Because it is not current (currant). 75. Nothing. 76. It is matchless. 77. Because he is guided by the directions of stran gers. 78. A noise. 79. C P O (Scipio). 80. It would be making game of him. 81. She is your mother. 82. A player. 83. It is between two seas (C's). 84. It has no scruples. 85. Because it is one of the great composers of modern times. When he is a-loft. 87. For diver's reasons. 88. Sixteen ounces in one pound. 89. Two boots. 90. A hypocrite neat, Can best count her feet (counterfeit), And so, I suppose, Can best count her toes. 91. The date. 92. C?ke, because it is only sometimes tipsy, while wine is often drunk. 93. Because it ought to be carried out. 94. Because he often feels a great deal bored (board). 95. When he is within the pound. 96. Striking her own flag. 97. It had better be (sown) sewn. 98. Because it is devoid of ease (E's) there are no E's in the word comfort). 99. Two T's (to tease). 100. XL, lent (excellent). 101. When it is crossed. 102. Because it often changes its notes. 103. He knows how to stretch his bill. 104. C D (seedy). 105. The "Weekly (weakly) News." 1 06 Poe. 107. A-gate. 108. When he is hale (hail). 109. Shooting stars. no. Leeks. in. When she poaches eggs. 112. Y (why ?). 113. When it is due (dew). 114. A sheep- pen. 115. When it is under consideration. 116. He knows the value of his sovereign, 117. It is always in waiting. 118. For-tune. 119. They are next the sea (C). 120. When it is a rye (awry) field. 121. Because it will make an eelyeel. 122. I. 123. I W (I double you). 124. Because it is sent (scent) wherever it goea 125. A dripping Pan. 126. When it is a little bare (bear). 127. Letter M. 128. Like to be drowned. 129. When it rises and takes a fly. 130. When we see a rash man eating a rasher. 131. When he is a regular brick. 132. When it is made into a ruler. 133. When it is full of knots. 134. A river. 135. Facetious. 136. Largess (S). 137. It is drawn with a drag on (dragon). 138. Because it is in bliss while most of the others ar^ in Purgatory. 139. Because you would get bad habits from him. 140. They correspond, but never meet. 141. Because he soonest takes a fence (takes offence)* 142. One that is for-bidding. 143. It is the end of beef. 144. The one gathers what he sows ; the other sews what she gathers. 145. Vowels. 146. It makes him yell " Oh " (yellow). 147. Anti-money (antimony). 148. Because they belong to the standing army. 149. The last. 150. The wheel, because it is tired. 151. Because without it we should have neither Christ mas nor a New Year. 152. He possesses a good constitution. 153. When it is bound in Morocco. 154. One that blows foul (fowl) and chops about. 155. The outside. 156. When it can't bear you. 157. Scissors. 158. Because their existence is only in-fancy. 159. A pillow. 160. She is full of airs. 161. He is not at all black (a tall black). 162. Because they make a noise whenever th* tolled (told). 163. Because they are always in tiers (in tears). 164. Nothing satisfies him. an* CONUNDRUMS. 605 I 55. /hey ought to be taken up. ' 66. Because we call them to take us in. 567. When he takes notes. {68. When it is in arms. 169. A lamp lighter. 170. Debts. 171. She indulges in-fancy too much. 172. Because you hear both sides. 173. When he is going to Bray. 174. Her coachman. 175. Because the sooner it is put out the better. 176. When it is eye water (high water). 177. A wheelwright. 178. Fuller. 179. Because it is an invisible force. 180. When it is under canvass. 181. People plant them and they shoot. 182. Cork. 183. Cadmus. He carried . letters from Phoenicia to Greece. 184. He is the sun and air (son and heir) of England. 185. B natural. 186. One tars his ropes, the other pitches his tent. 187. He gets his grub by the plough. 188. It shoots from the eye. 189. it is a Walkinghame (walking game). 190. Ashes. 191. Nothing. 192. They are skilled in the art of heeling (healing). 193. Falsehood. 194. Determi-nation. 195. When it is made into little Pats. 196. Ode on a yew (O'Donoghue). 197. Co-nun-drum. 198. One is a native of Hungary, the other a hungry native. 199. I have not a notion (I have not an ocean). 200. It Is very sew-sew (so-so) society. 20 1. Letter M. 202. It comes in the middle of the day. 203. Because when you put it in your pocket you double it, and when you take it out you find it in creases. 204. When King Claudius of Denmark did "murder most foul' 1 (fowl). 205. The one was governed by deys (days), the other by knights (nights). 206. When it's a little pale (pail). 207. When it's a little reddish (radish). 208. When he is a spoon. 209. When she is anchoring (hankering) after a swell. 210. When she is attached to a buoy (boy). 211. Gray's Inn (Grazing) Lane. 212. SIX (S added). 213. Because it would be 10 to i if you caught it. 214. One bob (i. M a To strike a dreamy streak, The figurative fact remains That all the clocks can speak. CARI,ETON. CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. 613 My Love. , OT as all other women are Is she that to my soul is dear ; Her glorious fancies come from far, Beneath the silvery evening star ; And yet her heart is ever near. Great feelings hath she of her own, Which lesser souls may never know ; God giveth them to her alone, And sweet they are as any tone Wherewith the wind may choose to blow, Yet in herself she dwelleth not, Although no home were half so fair ; No simplest duty is forgot; Life hath no dim and lowly spot That doth not in her sunshine share. She doeth little kindnesses Which most leave undone, or despise ; For naught that sets one heart at ease, And giveth happiness or peace, Is low-esteemed in her eyes. She hath no scorn of common tbings 1 And though she seem of other birth, Round us her heart entwines and clings, And patiently she folds her wings To tread the humble paths of earth. Blessing she is : God made her so ; And deeds of week-day holiness Fall from her noiseless as the snow ; Nor hath she ever chanced to know That aught were easier than to bless. She is most fair, and thereunto Her life doth rightly harmonize ; Reeling or thought that was not true Ne'er made less beautiful the blue Unclouded heaven of her eyes. She is a woman ; one in whom The spring-time of her childish years Hath never lost its fresh perfume, Though knowing well that life hath room For many blights aud many tears. I love her with a love as still As a broad river's peaceful might, Which by high tower and lowly mill Goes wandering at its own will, And yet doth ever flow aright. And on its full, deep breast serene, Like quiet isles, my duties lie ; It flows around them and between, And makes them fresh and fair and green, Sweet homes wherein to live and die. JAMES RUSS T?TT - LOWEI.I,. To An English Sparrow. IS IT spring time, my pert little sparrow ? I hear your voice, honest and shrill. I see you out there on the narrow Promenade of my bleak window-sill. When the blues came, my spirit to harrow t You darted in sight like an arrow, Piping, " Cheer up ! Cheer up ! " So loud on your tiny, blithe quill. I like you, my brave, saucy Briton, You've a way that has captured my heart ; And though others your failings may twit oil, ) I'm a friend that will e'er take your part. And as much as you wish you may sit on My sill which you often have lit on, Singing, " Cheer up ! Cheer up ! ' With a fervor much sweeter than art. Few people, I know, praise your singing, And I own that your harsh vocal powers Can't compete with the robin's voice ringing Every June in the lush morning hours ; I confess that the lark, upward winging, And the bobolink's silver throat flinging "Bobolink! Bobolink!" Add a charm to the seasons of flowers. But when winds of midwinter were blo\vir.a On And the window panes rattled with sleet ; And the heavens were gray, aud 'twas snowing, What became of those visitors sweet ? When we need them most, they were going, But you stayed, your stout heart overflowing In that ' ' Cheer up ! Cheer up ! " Which I've heard you so often repeat. Your enemies say you're a fighter. Ah, well, what of that ? So am I. I will sing if 'tis darker or lighter ; You have taught me a gay battle cry. When fortune's against me, despite her, I will wait for the days that are brighter, Singing " Cheer up ! Cheer up ! " I will fight and will sing till I die. GEORGE; HORTOIS* A Death-Bed. ER sufferings ended with the day, Yet lived she at its close, And breathed the long, long night away In statue-like repose. But when the sun in all its state Illumed the eastern skies, She passed through Glory's morning gate. And walked in paradise. JAMES Atr>R;r&. 614 CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. The Old World and the BT ew. IN happy climes the seat of innocence, Where nature guides and virtue rules ; Where men shall not impose for truth and sense The pedantry of courts and schools : There Shall be sung another golden age, The rise of empire and of arts ; The good and great inspiring epic rage, The wisest heads and noblest hearts. Not such as Europe breeds in her decay,- Such as she bred when fresh and young, When heavenly flame did animate her clay, By future poets shall be sung. Westward the course of empire takes its way The four first acts already past, JV fifth shall close the drama with the day ; une's noblest offspring is his last. GEORGE BERKELEY. The Old Barn. IE barn, the old barn, oh ! its dark walls were rife With the records most fair in my tablet of life ; And a rare barn it was, for search twenty miles round, Such another brave building was not to be found. 'Twas large as an ark, 'twas as strong as a church, "Twas the chicken's resort, 'twas the young raven's perch ; There the bat flapped his wings, and the owlet might screech, Secure in the gable-ends, far out of reach. For many a year had the harvest-home wain Creaked up to its door with the last load of grain ; And 'twas evident time had been playing his pranks With the moss-garnished roof and the storm-beaten planks. A wee thing, they tumbled me into its mow ; And left me to scramble out, Heaven knows how, A wild, merry girl, the old barn was the spot Which afforded delight that is still unforgot. 'Twas a birthday, one scion was walking life's stage, In youth's proudest of characters just come of age ; Many joys were devised but the chosen of all Was to clear out the old barn, and " get up a ball." We had prayed, we had hoped that the lanes might be dry, That no cloud would come over the moon-lighted sky ; But, alas ! 'twas November, and fog, sleet, and gloom Made the night of our jubilee dark as the tomb. But, hark! what loud voices what rumbling of wheels What stepping in puddles what tragical " squeals !' While close-tilted wagons and mud-spattered carts Set down a rare cargo of happy young hearts. What a dance was the first with what pleasure we went Down the middle and up, till our breathing was spent ! Though Musard might have shrugged at a bit of a strife 'Twixt the notes of the fiddle and key of the fife. Then the rat-hunt oh, mercy ! we hear poets speak Of the tug of fierce battle when "Greek joins with Greek;" But war held as wild and as deadly a reign When the terriers met the destroyers of grain. The smith left his bellows the miller his sack, It was lucky that business grew suddenly slack ; The thatcher was there, and the thatcher's boy too, And somehow, the butcher had nothing to do. The Squire lent his whip and his voice to the fray ; He, of course, only "chanced to be riding that way ;" And the master the ploughman the rich and the poor, Stood equality's jostling about the barn door. There was bustling old Pincher, all fierceness and bark ; And even fat Dido, as gay as a lark ; Snap, Vixen, and Bob, and another full score, For though rats might be many the dogs were oft more. The barn was the place where the beams and the rope Gave our mischievous faculties plenty of scope ; And when rick-lines were found, knotted, severed, and frayed ; Not a word did we breathe of the swings we had made* " Hide and seek" was the game that delighted us most, When we stealthily crept behind pillar and post ; When the law was enforced that "home" should not be won Before we'd encircled the barn in our run. I'd a merry heart then but I scarcely know why I should look into memory's page with a sigh ; 'Tis ungrateful to turn to the past with regret, When we hold a fair portion of happiness yet. My laugh in that day was a spirited shout, But still it is heard to ring joyously out ; My friends were the warmest that childhood could find, But those round me still are endearingly kind. " Long ago" has too often awakened my soul, Till my brow gathered shade, and the tear-drop would roll; Down, down, busy thought, for the future maybe As bright as the time of the old barn for me. EUZA COOK. )ICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. 615 Tlie Sunbeam's Mission. time ago, when this old world was young, A sunbeam from God's lighthouse blithely sprung Out into space, and searched through earth and sky For homely things to gild and glorify ; It brightened up the days serene and fair, It danced with other sunbeams frolics rare, It paled within the noon sun's steady glare. But testing all effects and searching round, Its best results in strangest things it found, It made a diamond of a tear of pain, Transforming griefs into prismatic rain ; It formed in dusty mills red golden bars, Transformed rude boats into illumined cars And made of raindrops brilliant falling stars. Far out at sea it glowed, deep, rich and warm, In heart of spray cast up by wind and storm ; High up on mountains touched the pale, dead snow With swift enchantment into warmest glow ; It made of mists strange forms with gilded wings ; In gloomy caves where silent darkness clings Its golden fingers searched for hidden things. But, better still, one day a cloud it met A sombre pall with surface black as jet And straightway o'er its velvet surface tract.-. With threads of gold and crimson interlaced, Such grand designs as earth had never known, Such rich effects of color and of tone, It seemed a copy of God's very throne. Its darkling fleeces turned to molten gold, Its deep recesses lined and crimson scrolled Its billowy banks, with marvels richly spread, Of priceless gems upon a priceless bed Of curve and color, joined with matchless grace, Until the awe-struck soul could plainly trace Heaven's splendors mirrored on the sky's broad face. And so throughout succeeding days and years Sunbeams love best to glow in falling tears ; To change to gold the chill, swift-falling rain, To forge gold bars in dark abodes of pain, And, finding those in gloom, to visit such With kindly light, with magic skill and touch Transforming ills which haunt them over much. Then, best of all, when veiled in darkling clouds, Which seem to wrap the world in ebon shrouds, The sunbeams love its blackness to transform To dreamlike beauty, rich and glad and warm ; God's promise in its grandeur glorified, While light from heaven's gold streets, a radiant tide, Sifts through the blessings to its earthly side. And so the heaven-light's richest work appears On darkest clouds, enshrined in hearts of tears ; Ix>ve's pattern woven into lives and years. I. EDGAR JONES. The Fossil Raindrops. kVE)R the quarry the children went rambling, Hunting for stones to skip, Into the clefts and crevices scrambling, Searching the quarrymen's chip. Sweet were their voices and gay was their laughter, That holiday afternoon, One tumbled down and the rest tumbled after, All of them singing one tune. Here was a stone would skip like a bubble, Once were it loosed from its place, See what strange lines, all aslant, all a-trouble, Covered over its face. For a half moment their wonder is smitten, Nor divine they at all That soft earth it was when those slant lines werfe written By the rain's gusty fall. Nor guess they, while pausing to look at it plainly, The least in the world perplexed, That the page which old Merlin studied vainly Had never such wizard text. Only a stone o'er the placid pool throwing, Ah but it told them, though, How the rain was falling, the wind was blowing, Ten thousand years ago. HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD. The Turn of Summer. /^\AST night the scented air of summer brought ttfi |^< sleep Of summer at the full. The passion flower Flared open on the vine ; the blood red-rose Drank the mid-summer dew and was not satisfied. The present time was all earth held no promises Since pleasure's wishes were completely filled. With dawn a languor sways the breeze, a softness clings About the landscape, while the year, with fickle pulse. Weary of bloom, begins to live for fruit. Hope now is born at turning of the tide, And spreads her lure along the gauzy lines Of spider webs between the blades of grass, But nowhere startles us a sudden change ; New buds are bursting by the dropping flowers, And birds, plumed for the South, pipe 'fresh their songs That rise upon the low sweet summer gale As bubbles through the amber wine ascend, The business of the summer still goes on, And yet the fall is here. The turn has come, Night-hidden messengers hare touched the scene; And in the morning when we greet, we say, " My love, my dear, the summer days have been." AUGUSTUS RADCUFFF, 6i6 CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. To-day and To-morrow. i IGH hopes that bum like stars sublime, Go down the heavens of freedom ; And true hearts perish in the time We bitterliest need 'em ! But never sit we down and say, " There's nothing left but sorrow :" We walk the Wilderness to-day The Promised Land to-morrow. Our birds of song are silent now ; There are no flowers blooming ! But life burns in the frozen bough, And Freedom's spring is coming! And Freedom's tide comes up alway, Though we may strand in sorrow ' And our good bark, aground to-day ^ Shall float again to-morrow I Through all the long, drear night of years The people's cry ascendeth, And earth is wet with blood and tears, But our meek suffering endeth ! fhe few shall not forever sway, The many toil in sorrow : The powers of hell are strong to-day, But Christ shall rise to-morrow ! Though hearts brood o'er the past, our eyes With smiling futures glisten : For lo ! our day bursts up the skies Lean out our souls and listen ! The world rolls Freedom's radiant way, And ripens with her sorrow : Keep heart ! who bear the cross to-day Shall wear the crown to-morrow ! O, Youth, flame-earnest, still aspire With energies immortal ! To many a heaven of desire Our yearning opes a portal ! And though Age wearies by the way. And hearts break in the furrow, We'll sow the golden grain to-day The harvest comes to-morrow. Build up heroic lives, and all Be like the sheathen sabre, Ready to flash out at God's call O ! Chivalry of labor ! Triumph and Toil are twins and aye Joy suns the cloud of sorrow ; And 'tis the martyrdom to-day Brings victory to-morrow ! MASSEY. WMsperin' Bill. ^O you're takin' the census, mister? There's three (c)y ofuslivin' still, My wife, and I, an' our only son, that folks call Whisperin' Bill ; But Bill couldn't tell ye his name, sir,an' so it's hardly worth givin', For ye see a bullet killed his mind an' left his body livin'. Set down fer a minute, mister. Ye see Bill was only fifteen At the time of the war, an' as likely a boy as ever this world lias seen ; .An' what with the news o' battles lost, the speeches an' all the noise, I guess every farm in the neighborhood lost a part of its crop o' boys. 'Twac harvest time when Bill left home ; every stalk in the fields of rye Seemed to stand tiptoe to see him off an' wave him a fond good-bye ; His sweetheart was here with some other girls, the sassy little miss ! An' pretendin' she wanted to whisper 'n his ear, she gave him a rousin' kiss. Oh, he was a han'some feller, an' tender an' brave an' smart, An" tho' he \vaa Linger tliaa I \vas, the boy had a woman's heart. I couldn't control my feelin's, but I tried with all my might, An' his mother an' me stood a-cryin' till Bill was out o' sight. His mother she often told him when she knew he was goin' away That God would take care o' him, maybe, if he didn't fergit to pray ; An' on the bloodiest battle-fields, when bullets whizzed in the air, An' Bill was a-fightin' desperate, he used to whisper a prayer. Oh, his comrades has often told me that Bill never flinched a bit When every second a gap in the ranks told where a ball had hit. An' one night when the field was covered with the awful harvest of war, They found my boy 'mongst the martyrs o' the ciiuse he was fightin' for. His fingers were clutched in the dewy grass oh, no. sir, he wasn't dead, But he lay sort o' helpless an' crazy with a rifle ball in his head. CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. 617 An' if Bill had really died that night I'd give all I've got worth givin' ; For ye see the bullet had killed his mind an' left his body livin'. An officer wrote and told us how the boy had been hurt in the fight, But he said that the doctors reckoned they could bring him around all right. An' then we heard from a neighbor, disabled at Mal- vern Hill, That he thought in a course of a week or so he'd be comin' home with Bill. We was that anxious t' see him we'd set up an' talk o' nights Till the break o' day had dimmed the stars an' put out the northern lights ; We waited and watched for a month or more, an' the summer was nearly past, When a letter came one day that said they'd started fer home at last. I'll never fergitthe day Bill came, 'twas harvest time again ; An' the air blown over the yellow fields was sweet with the scent o' the grain ; The dooryard was full o' the neighbors, who had come to share our joy, An' all of us sent up a mighty cheer at the sight o' that soldier boy. An' all of a sudden somebody said : "My God ! don't the boy know his mother ?" An' Bill stood a-whisperin', fearful like, an' starin' from one to another ; "Don't be afraid, Bill," said he to himself, as he stood in his coat o' blue, "Why, God'll take care o' you, Bill, God'll take care o' you." He seemed to be loadin' an' firm' a gun, an' to act like a man who hears The awful roar o' the battlefield a-soundin' in his ears ; I saw that the bullet had touched his brain an' some how made it blind, With the picture o' war before his eyes an' the fear o' death in his mind. I grasped his hand, an' says I to Bill, "Don't ye remember me ? I'm yer father don't ye know nie ? How frightened ye seem to be !" But the boy kep' a-whisperin' to himself, as if 'twas all he knew, God'll take care o' you, Bill, God '11 take care o' you." He's never known us since that day, nor his sweet heart, an' never will ; Father an' mother an" sweetheart are all the same to Bill. An' many's the time his mother sets up the whole night throiigh, An' smooths his head, and says : "Yes, Bill s God'll take care o' you." Unfortunit? Yes, but we can't complain. It's a livin' death more sad When the body clings to a life o' shame air the soul has gone to the bad ; An' Bill is out o' the reach o' harm an' danger of every kind ; We only take care of his body, but God takes care o' his mind. IRVING "I Live for Thee." OME the}' brought her warrior dead : She nor swoon 'd nor utter 'd cry : All her maidens, watching, said, " She must weep or she will die." Then they praised him, soft and low, Called him worthy to be loved, Truest friend and noblest foe ; Yet she neither spoke nor moved. Stole a maiden from her place, Lightly to the warrior stept, Took the face-cloth from the face ; Yet she neither moved nor wept. Rose a nurse of ninety years, Set his child upon her knee Like summer tempest came her tears " Sweet my child, I live for thee." TENNYSON. Go By. I OMB not, when I am dead, To drop thy foolish tears upon my grave, To trample round my fallen head, And vex the unhappy dust thou wouldst not save. There let the wind sweep and the plover cry ; But thou, go by. Child, if it were thine error or thy crime I care no longer, being all unblest: Wed whom thou wilt, but I am sick of Time, And I desire to rest. Pass on, weak heart, and leave me where I lie : Go by, go by. ALFRED TENNYSON, 6i8 CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. The Farmer's House. \IRMLY builded with rafters of oak, the house of the farmer Stood on the side of a hill cernmanding the sea ; and a shady Sycamore grew by the door, with a woodbine wreath ing around it. Rudely carved was the porch, with seats beneath ; and a footpath Led through an orchard wide, and disappeared in the meadow. Under the sycamore-tree were hives overhung by a penthouse, Such as the traveler sees in regions remote by the roadside, Built o'er a box for the poor, or the blessed image of Mary. Farther down, on the slope of the hill, was the -well with its moss-growa Bucket, fastened with iron, and near it a trough for the horses. Shielding the house from storms, on the north, were the barns and the farm-yard, There stood the broad-wheeled wains and the antique ploughs and the harrows ; There were the folds for the sheep ; and there, in his feathered seraglio, Strutted the lordly turkey, and crowed the cock, with the self-same Voice that in ages of old had startled the penitent Peter. Bursting with hay were the barns, themselves a village. In each one Far o'er the gable projected a roof of thatch ; and a staircase, Under the sheltering eaves, led up to the odorous corn- loft. There, too, the dove-cot stood, with its meek and inno cent inmates Murmuring ever of love ; while above in the variant breezes Numberless noisy weather-cocks rattled and sang of mutation. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. Life. World's a bubble, and the Life of Man Less than a span : In his conception wretched, from the womb So to the tomb ; Curst from his cradle, and brought up to years With cares and fears. Who then to frail mortality shall trust, But limns on water, or but writes in dust. Yet whilst with sorrow here we live opprest, What life is best ? Courts are but only superficial schools To dandle fools : The rural parts are turned into a den Of savage men : And where's a city from foul vice so free, But may be termed the worst of all the three? Domestic cares afflict the husband's bed, Or pains his head . Those that live single, take it for a curse, Or do things worse : Some would have children : those that have them, moan Or wish them gone : What is it, then, to have, or have no wife, But single thraldom, or a double strife ? Our own affections still at home to please Is a disease . To cross the seas to any foreign soil, Peril and toil : Wars with their noise affright us ; when they cease, We are worse in peace : What then remains, but that we still should cry For being born, or, being born, to die? LOR!> BACOI* The Good. HAT is the real good? " I asked in musing mood. Order, said the law court ; .Knowledge, said the school ; Truth, said the wise man ; Pleasure, said the fool ; Love, said the maiden ; Beauty, said the page ; Freedom, said the dreamer ; Home, said the sage ; Fame, said the soldier ; Equity, the seer ; Spake my heart full sadly ; " The answer is not here. " Then within my bosom Softly this I heard : " Each heart holds the secret ; Kindness is the word." J. BOYLE O'REiU-V. CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. 619 l>eath-Song of the Oneida Chief. ND I could weep ; " the Oueida chief His descant wildly thus began : " But that I may not stain with grief The death -song of my father's son, Or bow this head in woe ! For by my wrongs, and by my wrath ! To-morrow Areouski's breath, (That fires yon heaven with storms of death,) Shall light us to the foe ; And we shall share, my Christian boy ! The foeman's blood, the avenger's joy ! ** But thee, my flo.wer, whose breath was given By milder genii o'er the deep, The spirits of the white man's heaven Forbid not thee to weep : Nor will the Christian host, Nor will thy father's spirit grieve, To see thee, on the battle's eve, Lamenting, take a mournful leave Of her who loved thee most : She was the rainbow to thy sight ! Thy sun thy heaven of lost delight ! " To-morrow let us do or die ! But when the bolt of death is hurled, Ah ! whither then with thee to fly, Shall Outalissi roam the world ? Seek we thy once-loved home ? The hand is gone that cropt its flowers : Unheard their clock repeats its hours ! Cold is the hearth within their bowers I And should we thither roam, Its echoes, and its empty tread, Would sound like voices from the dead 1 " Or shall we cross yon mountains blue, Whose streams my kindred nation quaffed ; And by my side, in battle true, A thousand warriors drew the shaft ? Ah ! there in desolation cold, The desert serpent dwells alone, Where grass o'ergrows each mouldering bone, And stones themselves to ruin grown, Like me, are death-like old. Then seek we not their camp for there The silence dwells of my despair ! * ; * But hark, the trump ! to-morrow thou In glory's fires shalt dry thy tears : Even from the land of shadows now My father's awful ghost appears Amidst the clouds that round us roll ! He bids my soul for battle thirst ; He bids me dry the last, the first, The only tears that ever burst From Outalissi 's soul ; Because I may not stain with grief The death-song of an Indian chief!" THOMAS CAMPBEM* The Auctioneer's Gift. auctioneer leaped on a chair, and bold and loud and clear, He poured his cataract of words, just like an auctioneer. An auction sale of furniture, where some hard mort gagee Was bound to get his money back and pay his lawyer's fee. A humorist of wide renown, this doughty auction eer ; His joking raised the loud guffaw, and brought the answering jeer; He scattered round his jests like rain, on the unjust and the just ; Sam Sleeman said he laughed so much he thought that he would bust. He knocked down bureaus, beds and stoves, and clocks and chandeliers, And a grand piano, which he swore would "last a thou sand years ; ' ' He rattled out the crockery, and sold the silverware ; At last they passed him up to sell a little baby's chair. "How much? how much? come make a bid; is all your money spent?" And then a cheap, facetious wag came up and bid, : 'oiie cent." Just then a sad-faced woman, who stood in silence there, Broke down and cried, "My baby's chair! My poor, dead baby's chair !" "Here, madam, take your baby's chair," said the soft ened auctioneer, "I know its value all too well; my baby died last year; And if the owner of the chair, our friend, the mort gagee, Objects to this proceeding, let him send the bill to me I*' Gone was the tone of raillery ; the humorist auction eer Turned shame-faced from his audience to brush aside a tear ; The laughing crowd was awed and still, no tearless eye was there When tb* weeping woman reached and took her little baby's Chair. S. W. FOSS. 620 CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. "Flag the Train." The last words of Engineer Edward Kennar, who died in a milroad accident near St Johnsville, N. Y., April 18, 1887. I O, flag the train, boys, flag the train ! |Nor waste the time on me ; But leave me by my shattered cab ; 'Tis better thus to be ! It was an awful leap, boys, But the worst of it is o'er ; I hear the Great Conductor's call Sound from the farther shore. I hear sweet notes of angels, boys, That seem to say : " Well done !" I see a golden city there, Bathed in a deathless sun ; There is no night, nor sorrow, 1 ">ovs, No wounds nor bruises there ; The way is clear the engineer Rests from his life's long care. Ah ! 'twas a fearful plunge, my lads ; I saw, as in a dream, Those dear, dear faces looming up In yonder snowy stream ; Down in the Mohawk's peaceful depths Their image rose and smiled, E'en as we took the fatal leap ; Oh God my wife ! my child ! Well, never mind ! I ne'er shall sc^ That wife and child again ; But hasten, hasten, leave me, boys ! For God's sake, flag the train ! Farewell, bright Mohawk ! and farewell My cab, my comrades all ; I'm done for, boys, but hasten on, And sound the warning call I Oh, what a strange, strange tremor this That steals unceasing on ! Will those dear ones I've cherished so Be cared for when I'm gone? Farewell, ye best beloved, farewell ! I've died not all in vain Thank God ! The other lives are saved ; k God ! They've flagged the train ! WILLIAM B. CHISHOI.M. He grumbled at this ; he grumbled at that ; He growled at the dog; he growled ct the cat ; He grumbled at morning ; he grumbled at night ; And to grumble and growl were his chief delight He grumbled so much at his wife that she Began to grumble as well as he ; And all the children, wherever they went, Reflected their parents' discontent. If the sky was dark and betokened rain, Then Mr. Homer was sure to complain ; And if there was never a cloud about, He'd grumble because of the threatened His meals were never to suit his taste ; He grumbled at having to eat in haste ; The bread was poor, or the meat was tough Or else he hadn't had half enough. No matter how hard his wife might try To please her husband, with scornful eye He'd look around, and then with a scowl At something or other begin to growl. One day, as I loitered along the street, My old acquaintance I chanced to meet, Whose face was without the look of care And the ugly frown that it used to wear. " I may be mistaken, perhaps," I said, As, after saluting, I turned my head ; " But it is, and it isn't, the Mr. Homer Who lived so ^ug on Grumble Corner !" Grumble Corner and Thanksgiving Street. (KNEW a man whose name UBS Homer, Who used to live on Grumble Corner ; Grumble Corner, in Cross-Patch Town, And he was never seen without a frown. I met him next day ; and I met him again , In melting weather, in pouring rain ; When stocks were up and when stocks were 1own ; But a smile somehow had replaced the frown- It puzzled me much, and so, one day, I seized his hand in a friendly way, And said, "Mr. Horner, I'd like to know What has happened to change you so?" He laughed a laugh that was good to hear, For it told of a conscience calm and clear ; And he said, with none of the old-time drawl, " Why, I've changed my residence, that is all r" "Changed your residence?" "Yes," said Horn^ " It wasn't healthy on Grumble Corner, And so I moved ; 'twas a change complete ; And you'll find me now on Thanksgiving Street-*' Now every day as I move along The streets so filled with the busy throng, I watch each face, and can always tell Where men and women and children dwell , And many a discontened mourner Is spending his days on Grumble Corner, Sour and sad, whom I long to entreat To take a house on Thanksgiving Street. CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. 621 Old Friends. /AS on a cold and frosty night when snow and hail fast fell, And winter's chilling, wailing winds swept over hill and dell ; When people who had happy homes to blazing hearth stones hied, -\nd the wretched, houseless outcast in the bare street, frozen, died, That an aged, sightless beggar trudged along a coun try road, With a face by sorrow furrowed and back bent with life's load. His tattered cap and ragged coat did many patches show, And his wretched shoes, all cut and torn, let in the rain and snow. Before him walked the faithful dog that always led the way, And was the only guide and friend he'd known for many a day, Who often, too, by clever tricks would food and lodg ing win, The while his master played upon his treasured violin. Suddenly the mastiff stopped and slowly turned around, And sunk down by his master's feet upon the frozen ground. The blind man bent in pity o'er his faithful friend in woe, And said, "Ah, Jack, you're tired; well, we'll rest awhile, then go To an inn where we'll get meat and drink, an.1 place to lay our heads ; A warm spot by the fire will do, we will not ask for beds. " What could I do without you ? What would my dark life be, If your bright eyes I did not have to choose my path for me. Vou have, like true and faithful friend, for me ill usage borne, And often got the savage kicks that spoke the land lord's scorn. I'll ne'er forget how e'en when sick you would not duty shirk, Though many years ago, old friend, you were too old to work. "Why don't you lick my hand, old boy ; how strange you are to me. Your paw is stiff, your heart is still. Oh, God ! it cannot be That you have diert and left me no. no, you are not dead- God sees my bruised and bleeding heart, he sees my old gray head. He would not leave me here alone in the turmoil and the strife ; He knows I could not bear alone the heavy weight of life." He threw himself upon the corpse that now was stiff and cold ; Such grief and sorrow as he felt can ne'er by pen be told. With fatal aim this time grim death had sent his fatal dart, He was too weak to stand the blow ; it broke his poor old heart. For when, next morning, sunshine fell upon their snowy bed, A traveler passing by the spot found dog and master dead. The Dog and the Tramp. TRAMP went up to a cottage door , To beg for a couple o' dimes or more. The cottage door was opened wide, So he took a cautious look inside. Then over his features there spread a grin As he s>aw a lonely maid within A lonely maid within the gloom Of the shadiest part of a shady room. Into the room the tramper went ; Over a dog the maiden bent. His eyes were red and full of fire, And he viewed the tramp with evident ire, "Run for your life !" the maiden cried ; " I clean forgot to have him tied ! 1 ' Run for your life through yonder door ; I cannot hold him a minute more !" Withou; a word he turned his face And leaped the fence with careless grace ; Then lightly along the road he ran, r-ery much-put-out young man. The maiden loosed her bull-dog's neck, And gazed at the tramp a vanishing speck And peal after peal of laughter rent The air with the maiden's merriment. The dog was of terra-cotta ware She won him that week at a lottery fair. EVA B3T, 622 CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. Deakin Brown's Way. ^I,D Deakin Brown lives out f 'urn town _ About four mile er so, An" drives a spankin' team o' bays Wen he goes to an' fro ; An' allus w'en he overhauls Some feller walkin' on the ground, He stops his team and cramps around An' calls : "Hullo, Git in an' hev' a lift !" You'll see 'im sit an' chaw an' spit, An' saw upon the lines, His joliy face so red with pride It reg'lar glows and shines ; Them bosses steps so gay an' high An' tear along at sech a gait, You'd scarcely think their owner'd -wait An' cry: "Hullo, Git in an' hev' a lift ! " T' see ol' Brown a-saggin' down On one e'end o' the seat, An' leanin' sideways now'n agin To watch 'em pick their feet, You'd think ; " Here conies a rooral swell." But my ! How quick your mind 'ud flop, W'en Deakin'd make them hosses stop . An' yell : " Hullo, Climb in an' hev' a lift ! " They's folks who ride in all their pride In fortune's rig on life's highway Us folks who trudge along afoot Ken see 'em drive past every day ; They hain't like Deakin Brown at all ; It makes no odds how tired ye git, Ye'll never see them wait a bit An' call : "Hullo, Climb in an' hev' a lift !" GEORGE HORTON. Going- on an Errand. POUND of tea at one-and-three, And a pot of raspberry jam, Two new-laid eggs, a dozen pegs, And a pound of rashers of ham." ni say it over all the way, And then I'm sure not to forget, Por if I chance to bring things wrong My mother gets in such a pet. " A pound of tea at one-and-three, And a pot of raspberry jam, Two new-laid eggs, a dozen pegs, And a pound of rashers of ham." There in the hay the children play They're having such jolly fun ; I'll go there, too, that's what I'll do, As soon as my errands are done. " A pound of tea at one-and-three, A pot of er new-laid jam, Two raspberry eggs, with a dozen pegs. And a pound of rashers of ham." There's Teddy White a-flying his kite He thinks himself grand, I declare ; I'd like to try to fly it sky high, Ever so much higher Than the old church spire, And then and then but there " A pound of three and one at tea, A pot of new-laid jam, Two dozen eggs, some raspberry pegs, And a pound of rashers of ham." Now here's the shop, outside I'll stop, And run through my orders again ; I haven't forgot no, ne'er a jot It shows I'm pretty cute, that's pla'n "A pound of three at one and tea, A dozen of raspberry ham, A pot of eggs, with a dozen pegs, And a rasher of new-laid jam." Forgotten. I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me ; Plant thou no roses at my head Nor shady cypress-tree : Be the green grass above me With showers and dew-drops wet ; And if thou wilt, remember, And if thou wilt, forget. I shall not see the shadows, I shall not feel the rain ; I shall not hear the nightingale Sing on, as if in pain : And dreaming through the twilight That doth not rise nor set, Haply I may remember, And haply may forget. c. G. itossirm. CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. 623 The Lioom of Life. Uv day, all night, I hear the jar LOf the loom of life, and near and far It thrills with its deep and muffled sound As the tireless wheels go round and round. Busily, ceaselessly goes the loom In the light of day, and the midnight gloom ; The wheels are turning with all their strife, Forming at last the web of each life. Click, clack ! there's a web of love wove in ; Click, clack ! there's another of wrong and sin. What a checkered thing this life will be When we see it unrolled in eternity ! Time with a face like mystery, And hands as busy as hands can be, Sits at the loom with arms outspread, To catch in its meshes each glancing thread. Are you spinners of wool in life's web, say ? Do you furnish the weaver a thread each day ? It were better then, O my friend, to spin A beautiful thread than a thread of sin. Say, when will this wonderful web be done ? In a hundred years, perhaps, or one, Or to-morrow, who knoweth ? not you nor I ; But the wheels turn on and the shuttles fly. Ah, sad-eyed weaver, the years are slow, And each one is nearing the end, I know. Soon the last web will be woven in God grant it be love and not of sin. The Good Great Man. OW seldom, friend, a good great man inherits Honor and wealth, with all his worth and pains ! It seems a story from the world of spirits When any man obtains that which he merits, Or any merits that which he obtains. For shame, my friend ! renounce this idle strain I What wouldst thou have a good great man obtain ? Wealth, title, dignity, a golden chain, Or heap of corses which his sword hath slain ? Goodness and greatness are not means, but ends. Hath he not always treasures, always friends, The good great man ? Three treasures love, and light, And calm thoughts, equable as infant's breath ; And three fast friends, more sure than day or night Himself, his Maker, and the angel Death . SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. The Maiden Missionary. 'HERB she goes with schemes prolific for the heathen-isled Pacific, All her soul with pity burning for those far-off coral shores ; She would have her friends endow a ladies' school in Chicahaua, And establish kindergartens through the indolent Azores. Now she pleads with you to sign a paper in behalf of China, To correct an ancient evil by a prize for larger feet ', And her lovely eyes are swimming while she speaks of heathen women, With their shocking scant apparel and the vulgar food they eat. No man has the heart to snub her, though she turns the talk to blubber. Oily natives of Kamschatka, and the podgy Esqui maux, Or, at hinted change of topic, takes you flying o'er the tropic, To the swarthy son of Afric with a bangle through his nose. Oh, she looks and speaks so sweetly that she wins yon* heart completely, And her strings of dry statistics chain you like a silken mesh ; And give most profound attention to each several heathen mention, For her face is like a rose leaf, and your heart i? only flesh. By and by with fingers taper she presents a folded paper, And you spread it out before you with a sigh that sweeps the floor ; Here are victims without number, from a poet to a plumber, And you never saw such figures on a begging sheet before. Up you glance with indecision ; but you see a pleading vision, Dewy lips beset with dimples, eyes like sweet un- uttered prayers ; And with all your spirit burning you set down a whole week's earning, To assist some lucky heathen up the shining goldei> stairs. PAUL PASTNOR. 624. CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. Early Autumn. 'HE country lanes are bright with bloom, And gentle airs come stealing through Laden with native wild perfume Of balm and mint and honey-dew, And o'er the summer's radiant flush Lies early autumn's dreamy hush. In way-side nooks the asters gleam, And frost-flowers dance above the sod, While, lapsing by, the silent stream Reflects the hue of golden-rod, That flower which lights a dusky day With something of the sun-god's ray. The grape-vine clambers o'er the hedge In golden festoons ; sumacs burn Like torches on the distant ledge, Or light the lane at every turn, And ivy riots everywhere In blood red banners on the air. A purple mist of fragrant mint Borders the fences, drifting out Of fostering corners, and its tint, As half of cheer and half of doubt, Is like the dear delightful haze Which robes the hills these autumn days. And strange wild growths are newly met ; Odd things but little prized of yore, Like some old jewel well reset, Take on a worth unseen before, As dock, in spring a graceless weed, Is brilliant in its autumn seed. The cricket and the katydid Pipe low their sad prophetic tune, Though airs pulse warm the leaves amid, As played around the heart of June ; So minor strains break on the heart, Foretelling age as years depart. The sweet old story of the year Is spinning onward to its close, Yet sounds as welcome on the ear As in the time of op'ning rose. May life for all as sweetly wane As comes the autumn-time again I DART FAIRTHORNB. The Erl-King. rides by night in the tempest wild ? 'it is the fond father with his child ; He holdeth the boy safe in his arm, <3e clasos him firmly, he keeps him warm. " Why hidest thou, child, thy face with fear?" " Seest thou not, father, the Erl-King near? The Erl-King, with his crown and train?" " My son, the fog hangs o'er the plain. "Thou sweet, dear child, come, go with me ! Such pretty gams will I play with thee ; The banks in sweet flowers are gaily drest, My mother has many a golden vest. "My father, my father, and dost thou not hear What the Erl-King is whispering in my ear?" " Fear nothing, fear nothing, my darling boy; The winds with the withering branches toy. " O wilt thou, fair boy, go along with me ? My daughters shall prettily wait upon thee ; In the maze of the midnight dance they sweep, They '11 rock thee, and dance thee, and sing thee to sleep. " Dear father, dear father, and seest thou not The Erl-King's daughters in yon dark spot?" " My son, my son, as -were it by day, I see the old willow trees glimmer so gray. " I love thee, with rapture thy form I survey ; And if thou'rt not willing I'll tear thee away." " O fathe O father, he's seizing my arm, O save me ! the Erl-King has wrought me harm." The father rides swiftly in fear and alarm, He holds the sobbing child in his arm, He reaches the court with trouble and dread; Alas ! in his arms the child is dead. JOHANN WOLFGANG GOETHK- Can Ix>ve Survive ? INCE brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundlest sea, But sad mortality o'ersways their power, How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea, Whose action is no stronger than a flower ? O how shall summer's honey breath hold out Against the wreckful siege of battering days, When rocks impregnable are not so stout Nor gates of steel so strong, but Time decays? O fearful meditation ! where, alack ! Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid? Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid? O ! none, unless this miracle have might. That in black ink my love may still shine bright SHAKESPEAMC. CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. Remembered by What I Have Done. l^J P and away, like the dew of the morning, \vf That soars from the earth to its home in the sun; So let me steal away, gently and lovingly, Only remembered by what I have done. My name, and my place, and my tomb all forgotten, The brief race of time well and patiently run, So let me pass away, peacefully, silently, Only remembered by what I have done. Gladly away from this toil would I hasten, Up to the crown that for me has been won ; Unthought of by man in rewards or in praises Only remembered by what I have done. Up and away, like the odors of sunset, That sweeten the twilight as darkness comes on ; S J be my life a thing felt but not noticed. And I but remembered by what I have done. Yes, like the fragrance that wanders in darkness When the flowers that it came from are closed up and gone ; So I would be to this world's weary dwellers, Only remembered by what I have done. Needs there the praise of the love-written record, The name and the epitaph graven on stone ? The things we have lived for let them be our story We ourselves but remembered by what we have done I need not be missed, if my life has been bearing (As its Summer and Autumn moved silently on) The bloom, the fruit, and the seed of its season ; I shall still be remembered by what I have done. I need not be missed if another succeed me, To reap down those fields which in spring I have sown ; He who ploughed and who sowed is not missed by the reaper, He is only remembered by what he has done. Not myself, but the truth that in life I have spoken ; Not myself, but the seed that in life I have sown, Shall pass on to ages all about me forgotten, Save the truth I have spoken, the things I have done. 625 So let my living be, so be my dying ; So let my name lie, unblazoned, unknown ; Unpraised and unmissed, I shall still be remembered Yes but remembered by what I have done. Quiet Work. kNE lesson, Nature, let me learn of thee, One lesson which in every wind is blown, One lesson of two duties kept at one Thoujjh the loud world proclaim their enmity Of toil unsevered from tranquillity ; Of labor , that in lasting fruit outgrows Far noisier schemes, accomplished in repose, Too great for haste, too high for rivalry. Yes, while on earth a thousand discords n^g, Man's senseless uproar mingling with his toil, Still do thy quiet ministers move on, Their glorious tasks in silence perfecting ; Still working, blaming still our vain turmoil, Laborers that shall not fail, when man isgoue. MATTHEW Patience Taught by Nature. DREARY life !" we cry, " O dreary life I" And still the generations of the birds Singthiough our sighing, and the flocks and herds Serenely live while we are keeping strife With Heaven's true purpose in us, as a knife Against which we may struggle. Ocean girds Unslackened the dry land ; savannah-swards Unweary sweep ; hills watch, unworn ; and rife Meek leaves drop yearly from the forest- trees, To show above the unwasted stars that pass In their old glory. O thou God of old ! Grant me some smaller grace that comes to these; But so much patience as ;i blade of grass Grows by contented through the heat and cold. ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING^ The Kile. I T flows through old hushed Egypt and its sands, I Like some grave mighty thought threading a drefltt And times and things, as in that vision, seem Keeping along it their eternal stands Caves, pillars, pyramids, the shepherd 1ands That roamed through the young world, the glory ex treme Of high Sesostris, and that southern beam, The laughing queen that caught the world's grftrt hands. Then comes a mightier silence, stern and strong, As of a world left empty of its throng, And the void weighs on us ; and then we wake, And hear the fruitful stream lapsing along 'Twixt villages, and think how we shall take Our own calm journey on for human sake. LEIGH 626 CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. Views of Farmer Brown. ^HAT would they thought in our day, John, Of doin's sech as these ? There's gals down there in Simpkin's lot About as thick as bees, A.-pickin' such old stiff-backed herbs As golden-rod, and asters ; Tfean, pesky weeds ! No thrifty farmer 'd Have 'em in his pastures. Jest hear 'em laugh, and " oh," and " ah," 'Bout everything they see ; I reckon fifty year ago Sech things would never be ; The gals in them days had to work, And never thought o' posies Unless 'twas lalocs in the-spring, And in the summer, rosies. Or mebbe down the garden walk You'd see some sweet-peas growin', And larkspurs, pinks, and hollyhocks Would do their share o' blowin'; But interferin' with the things God scattered 'mong the grasses Was never thought of guess it wa'n'tl-*- By good old-fashioned lasses. It's ever since that prig came her They call Professor Dangly, The gals have been a-talkin' 'bout The "Aster novy-angly," And the " Solidago strictly," And the "Ap'os tuberosy ;" And them old 'tarnal beggar ticks Are christened now, " Frondosy." Waal, times is changed, and so is gals, And so is all creation ; I'm glad I've lived nigh seventy year Afore this generation ; For, speakin' confidentially, It seems to me it means If folks keep on in this 'ere way Bumbye they won't know beans. Poor farmer Brown is resting now, Life's sands have all been numbered ; With follies of the present age His peace is ne'er encumbered ; But spite of all, close by his grave, Each year break through the sod The purple aster's starry blooms And plumes of golden-rod. KATHERINE H. TERRV. Monterey. were n t man y we who Before the iron sleet that day ; Yet many a gallant spirit would Give half his years if he but could Have been with us at Monterey. Now here, now there, the shot was hailed In deadly drifts of fiery spray ; Yet not a single soldier quailed When wounded comrades round them wailed Their dying shouts at Monterey. And on, still on, our column kept, Through walls of flame, its withering way; Where fell the dead, the living stept, Still charging on the guns that swept The slippery streets of Monterey. The foe himself recoiled aghast, When, striking where he strongest lay, We swooped his flanking batteries past, And, braving full their murderous blast, Stormed home the towers of Monterey. Our banners on those turrets wave, And there our evening bugles play, Where orange-boughs above their grave Keep green the memory of the brave Who fought and fell at Monterey. We are not many we who pressed Beside the brave who fell that day ; But who of us hath not confessed He'd rather share their warrior rest Than not have been at Monterey ? CHARLES FENNO HOFFMAN. Soul and Body. POOR Soul, the centre of my sinful earth, Fooled by those rebel powers that thee array, Why dost thou pine within, and suffer dearth t Painting thy outward walls so costly gay ? Why so large cost, having so short a lease, Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend ? Shall worms, inheritors of this excess, F/at up thy charge ? is this thy body's end? Then, Soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss. And let that pine to aggravate thy store ; Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross; Within be fed, without be rich no more : So shalt thou feed on death, that feeds on men, And death once dead, there's no more djing thejv WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. 627 A School Episode. \ONG years ago (how youth to-day \ Would stand and stare if taught that way !) In rural " deestricks " 'twas laid down That meeting travelers through the town, Boys from their heads their hats should take And reverently their "manners " make ; Each little maid, her part to do, Made "kurchies " wonderful to view. It chanced that on a certain day His yearly visit came to pay, A school official yclept "trustee," His form e'en I seem to see, In somber coat of homespun brown And fine buff waistcoat bought in town ; Besides yes, it was surely so. He wore a wig, this ancient beau ; Else I'd no story have to tell Of what that article befell ; He made his call no matter where, Since you, I'm sure, were never there; He heard the scholars spell and read, Talked long and learned of their need The Rule of Three to practice well, And the nine parts of speech to tell; Then as a final flourish, "Now," He said, "I'll make a proper bow ; Look, one and all." Alas to tell ! His wig came loose and off it fell, Displaying to the general view A pate that shone like billiard cue ; He stared a breath, with scarlet face, His headgear seized and quit the place. Upon the school a stillness fell, Until an urchin broke the spell A tow-haired child, the smallest there, Who, running toward his teacher's chair With hand upraised, piped shrilly out, His freckled face expressing doubt And direst wonder : " Schoolma'am, we Can't take our hairs off clean like he !" EMMA SHAW. Der Deutscher's Maxim. vas vat you call a maxim Dot I hear der oder day, Und I wride id in mine album, So id don'd could got avay ; Und I dells mine leedle Yawcob He moost mind vot he's aboudt: " 'Tis too late to lock der shtable Vhen der horse he vas gone oudt. " Vhen I see ubon der corners Off der shtreets most efry night, Der loafers und der hoodlums, Who do nix but shvear und fights I says to mine Katrina : " Let us make home bright ttnd gay , Ve had petter lock der shtable, So our colts don'd got avay." Vhen you see dhose leedle urchingr Not mooch ofer knee-high tall, Shump righdt indo der melon patch, Shust owf der garden vail, Und vatch each leedle rascall Vhen he cooms back mit hees "boodle,*" Look oudt und lock your shtable, So your own nag don'd shkydoodle I Vhen der young man at der counter Vants to shpecgulate in shtocks, Und buys hees girl some timond rings Und piles righdt oup der rocks, Look oudt for dot young feller ; Id vas safe enuff to say Dot der shtable id vas empty, Und der horse was gone avay. Dhen dake time by der fetlock ; Don'd hurry droo life's courses; Rememper vot der poet says, " Life's but a sphan " off horses ; Der poy he vas der comin' man ; Be careful vhile you may ; Shust keep der shtable bolted, Und der horse don'd got avay. CHARLES POI^EN ADAMS. Time and Love. kHEN I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced The rich proud cost of out-worn buried age ; When sometime lofty towers I see down-razedt And brass eternal slave to mortal rage ; When I have seen the hungry ocean gain Advantage on the kingdom of the shore, And the firm soil win of the watery main, Increasing store with loss," and loss with store ; When I have seen such interchange of state, Or state itself confounded to decay, Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate That Time will come and take my Love away : This thought is as a death, which cannot choose But weep to have that which it fears to lose. SHAKESPEARBt 628 CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. Little Worries. "HOUGH many ills may hamper life When fortune turns capricious, The great but nerve us for the strife, The small ones make us vicious ; Fierce griefs are soon outstripped by one Who through existence scurries ; It's harder far a race to run With nimble " little worries." A button bids your shirt good-bye When late for dinner dressing, Fou have a kite you cannot fly, And creditors are pressing ; You run to catch and lose a train (That fatal est of hurries), Your newest hat encounters rain Life's full of "little worries." From day to day some silly things Upset you altogether ; There's nought so soon convulsion brings As tickling with a feather ; 'Gainst minor evils let him pray Who fortune's favor curries; J*or one that big misfortunes slay Ten die of " little worries." GEORGE R. SIMS. Out at Sea. I know that I am dying, mate; so fetch the Bible here, What's laid unopen in the chest for five and twenty year; And bring a light along of you, and read a bit to me, Who haven't heard a word of it since first I came to sea. Its five and twenty year, lad, since she went to her rest, Who put that theie old Bible at the bottom of my chest ; And I can well remember the words she says to me : M Now, don't forget to read it, Tom, when you get out to sea." never thought about it, mate ; for it clean slipped from my head ; But when I come from that first voyage, the dear old girl was dead. And the neighbors told me, while I stood as still as still can be, That she prayed for me and blessed me as was just gone out to sea. And then I shipped again, mate, and forgot the Bible there, For I never gave a thought to it a-sailing everywhere. But now that I am dying, you can read a bit to me As seems to think about it, now I'm ill and down at sea. And find a little prayer, lad, and say it up right loud, So that the Lord can hear it if it finds him in a crowd I can scarce hear what you're saying, for the wind that howls to lee; But the Lord'll hear above it all for He's been out at sea. It's set in very dark, mate ; and I think I'll say good night. But stop look there ! Why, mate ; why Bill ; the cabin's turning light ; And the dear old mother's standing there as give tht book to me ! All right ; I'm coming! Bill, good-by ! My soul'.* going out to sea ! J. S. FLETCHER. Early Spring-. I HEARD a thousand blended notes While in a grove I sat reclined, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind. To her fair works did Nature link The human soul that through me ran ; And much it grieved my heart to think What Man has made of Man. Through primrose tufts, in that sweet bower, The periwinkle trailed its wreaths And 'tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes. The birds around me hopped and played, Their thoughts I cannot measure But the least motion which they made It seemed a thrill of pleasure. The budding twigs spread out their fan To catch the breezy air ; And I must think, do all I can, That there was pleasure there. If this belief from heaven be sent, If such be Nature's holy plan, Have I not reason to lament What Man has made of Man ? WILLIAM WORDSWORTB, CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. Art Thou Living Yet ? Parson Kelly. 029 IS there no grand, immortal sphere Beyond this realm of broken ties, To fill the wants that mock us here, And dry the tears from weeping eyes ; Where Winter melts in enuless Spring, And June stands near with deathless flowers ; Where we may hear the dear ones sing Who loved us in this world of ours ? t ask, and lo ! my cheeks are wet With tears for one I cannot see ; Oh, mother, art thou living yet, And dost thou still remember me ? C feel thy kisses o'er me thrill, Thou unseen angel of my life ; I hear thy hymns around me trill, An undertone to care and strife ; Thy tender eyes upon me shine, As from a being glorified, Till I am thine and thou art mine, And I forget that thou hast died. I almost lose each vain regret In visions of a life to be ; But, mother, art thou living yet, And dost thou still remember me ? The Springtimes bloom, the Summers fade, The Winters blow along my way ; But over every light or shade Thy memory lives by night and day ; It soothes to sleep my wildest pain, Like some sweet song that cannot die, And, like the murmur of the main, Grows deeper when the storm is nigh. I know the brightest stars that set Return to bless the yearning sea ; But, mother, art thou living yet, And dost thou still remember me? I sometimes think thy soul comes back From o'er the dark and silent stream Where last we watched thy shining track, To those green hills of which we dream ; Thy loving arms around me twine, My cheeks bloom younger in thy breath, Till thou irt mine and I am thine, Without a thought of pain or death ; And yet, at times, my eyes are wet With tears for her I cannot see Oh, mother, art thou living yet, And dost thou still remember me ? JAMES G. CI.AJIKB. Parson Kelly's fair young wife Irene Died when but thre months wed, And no new love has ever come between His true heart and the dead, Though now for sixty years the grass has growo Upon her grave, and on its simple stone The moss And yellow lichens creep hei name across. Outside the door, in the warm summer air, The old man sits for hours, The idle wind that stirs his silver hair Is sweet with June's first flowers ; But dull his mind, and clouded with the hazfe Of life's last weary, gray November days ; And dim The past and present look alike to him. The sunny scene around, confused and blurred, The twitter of the birds, Blend in his mind with voices long since heard Glad childhood's careless words, Old hymns and Scripture texts ; while indistinct Yet strong, one thought with all fair things is linked-* The bride Of his lost youth is ever by his side. By its sweet weight of snowy blossoms bowed The rose-tree branch hangs low, And in the sunshine, like a fleecy cloud, Sways slowly to and fro. " Oh ! is it you ?" the old man asks, " Irene !" And smiles, and fancies that her face he's seen Beneath The opening roses of a bridal wreath ! Down from the gambrel roof a white dove flits The sunshine on its wings, And lighting close to where the dreamer sits, A vision with it brings A golden gleam from some long vanished day. " Dear love," he calls ; then, "Why will you not slay?** He sighs, For, at his voice, the bird looks up and flies 7 O constant heart ! whose failing thoughts cling last To one long laid in dust , Still seeing, turned to thuie, as in the past, ( Her look of perfect trust, Her soft voice hearing in the south wind's breath Dream on ! I^ove pure as thine shall outlive death, And when The gates unfold, her eyes meet thine again ! MA.RIAN DOUGI.ASS, CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. The I-ioii's Bide. his rair tin lesert king arose through his domain to fly, To the far lagoon he wanders, in the lofty reeds to lie ; Where gazelles drink and giraffes, he lurks upon the rushy shore ; Jfctmbling o'sr the mighty monarch, waves the shady sycamore. When at eve the blazing fire crackles in the Caffre's kraal, When on Table Mount no more the signal flutters in the gale. When the solitary Hottentot sweeps o'er the wide karroo When the antelope sleeps 'neath the bush, and by the stream the gnu : Lo ! then stalks majestically through the desert the giraffe, There to lave the stagnant waters, there the t>amy draught to quaff ; Parched with thirst, he skims the naked plain his burning tongue to cool, kneeling, with extended neck, he drinks from out the miry pool. Suddenly the rushes quiver; on his back, with fearful roar, Springs the lion ; what a steed ! were richer housings e'er before, Seen in 'knight's or prince's stall, or on the champing war steeds sides Than the spotted charger's trappings, which the desert king bestrides? In the muscles of th^ neck he digs his greedy fangs amain, O'er the giant courser's shoulder waves the rider's yellow mane ; With the hollow shriek of pain, he starts, and, mad with fury, flies ; ee I the spotted leopard's skin, how with the camel's speed it vies ! ilark ! he strikes tha noon-illumined plain with foot swift as the roe's, taringfrom their sockets start his bloodshot eyes, and trickling flows 0'erthe brown bespotted neck the gory torrent's purple stain, And the victim's beating heart resounds along the silent plain. I/ike the cloud which guided Israel to Yemen's, promised land, Like a genius of the waste, a phantom riding o'er the strand, Whirling on, a sandy column, like a vortex in the skies, Through the desert's sandy sea, behind the horse and rider, flies. Whirring in their wake, the vulture, pierces with hJ& shriek the gloom. And the fell hyena follows, desecrator of the tomb ; And the panther, dread destroyer of the Capeland's herds, gives chase ; Drops of sweat and gore point out their grisly monarch'* fearful trace. Trembling, they beheld their lord, as on his living throne he stood, Tearing with his grisly fangs the chequered cushion, stained with blood. Onwards, till his strength's exhausted, must the steetf his burden bear, 'Gainst a rider such as this, 'twere vain indeed to plunge and rear I Stagg'ring, on the desert's brink the victim falls and gurgling lies ; Dead, besmeared with froth and gore, the steed be comes the rider's prize. Over Madagascar, in the east, the morning glimmers gray, O'er the frontiers of his realm the king of beasts pur sues his way. FERDINAND FREIUGRATH. The Fountain. talked with open heart, and tongue Affectionate and true, A pair of friends, though I was young And Matthew seventy-two. We lay beneath a spreading oak, Beside a mossy seat ; And from the turf a fountain broke And gurgled at our feet. " Now, Matthew," said I, "let us match. This water's pleasant tune With some old border song, 01 catch That suits a summer's noon. " Or of the church-clock and the chimes Sing here beneath the shade That half-mad thing of witty rhytnec Which you last April made I" CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. in silence Matthew lay, and eyed The spring beneath the tree ; And thus the dear old man replied, The gray-haired man of glee : *' No check, no stay, this streamlet fears. How merrily it goes ! Twill murmur on a thousand years And flow as now it flows. '" And here, on this delightful day, I cannot choose but think How oft, a vigorous man , I lay Beside this fountain's brink. " My eyes are dim with childish tears, My heart is idly stirred, For the same sound is in my ears Which in those days I heard. "'Thus fares it still in our decay And yet the wiser mind Mourns less for what Age takes away Than what it leaves behind. '"The blackbird amid leafy trees, The lark above the hill, Ivet loose their carols when they please, Are quiet when they will. "With Nature never do they wage A foolish strife ; they see A happy youth, and their old age Is beautiful and free : *' But we are pressed by heavy laws ; And often, glad no more, We wear a face of joy, because We have been glad of yore. " If there be one who need bemoan His kindred laid in earth, The household hearts that were his own It is the man of mirth. " My days, my friend, are almost gone, My life has been approved, And many love me ; but by none Am I enough beloved." *' Now both himself and me he wrongs, The man who thus complains ! J live and sing my idle songs Upon these happy plains : And, Matthew, for thy children dead I'll be a son to thee !" At this he grasped my hand and said, " Alas ! that cannot be. " We rose up from the fountain-side ; And down the smooth descent Of Uie green sheep-track did we glide; And through the wood we went ; And ere we came to Leonard's Rock He sang those witty rhymes About the crazy old church-clock, And the bewildered chimes. WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. Charlie's Story of the Family Pledge. IB family pledge hung on the wall, And on it you could see The names of mamma, Mary Jane. And Charlie that is me. We didn't dare to ask papa To write upon it too, So left a space for him to fill ; 'Twas all we dared to do. He saw the pledge as soon as he Came in the door that night ; And when we saw him reading it It put us in a fright. He didn't say a word to us About the pledge at all, But oft I saw him look at it While hanging on the wall. And every night when he came home, He stopped and read it through : We all kept still about those words, Although we knew them true. Four weeks had passed, and then one night, When pa came home to tea, He took the pledge down from its nail, And then he turned to me : " Go get the pen and ink, my boy And let me fill that space, It looks so bare," he slowly said, A queer look on his face. And then mamma sat down and cried, (She said it was for joy), And Mary Jane she cried some, too, I didn't I'm a boy. But papa says he did not drink Since that first night when we Had hung that pledge upon the wall Where he our names could see. And ever since that space was filled, Mamma said just to-night, Though dark may be our little room, Our corner now is light. A. H. HOTCHINSON CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. At the Window. "HE lady she sits at her window ; I sit at my window and look, And my fancies flock gladly toward her, As yonng swans flock forth to a brook, And I catch from her bright face the pleasure I draw from an affluent book. I scarce know the name of the lady, She never has spoken to me ; But I know, by infallible symbols, That whatever her history be, Her soul is as brave as the mountains Her heart is as deep as the sea. Sometimes her white fingers fly deftly All day with the needle and thread ; And sometimes o'er lark-throated poems She droopeth her beautiful head ; And sometimes she waits on the people Whose custom assureth her bread. For she is but a clerk, is this lady ; A salaried clerk in a store, With the blessing of labor upon her : (Not curse, as was written of yore.) And judged by the palpable outward I should hazard the guess she was poor. But of comforts, and riches, and splendors, Which silver and gold cannot buy ; The things which make royal the forehead, Which set a delight in the eye, And crown us with glories and lustres As the stars of the Lord crown the sky Of these the deep spiritual graces Which give unto life its divine, Transform with miraculous touches The water of being to wine, And quicken the sap of the human Till the drear places blossom and shine. She has crystalline caskets and coffers. With broad open lips to receive The silent ineffable helpings God's angels are gladdened to give, Beyond half the diademed princes, And miUionaired monarchs who live. And something about her most subtly Reminds me of daisies and birds : Of smells of mown hay in the meadows, Of sweet tunes to beautiful words ; And of one who clung close to my bosom Before she was clasped to the Lord's. Thus being so minded and betteted, Because of the claims she has Li ought j The rest to my trouble of spirit, The peace to the ache in my thought, And the cooing of doves in the passions Where devils have wrestled and wrought. All paths which the lady may travel My blessings shall conquer ; that so No roughness may bruise her, no waters Be bitter or brackish with woe, While the blue heavens brood softly above her, And the grass groweth greenly below. RICHARD REAI.P, The Man for the Hour. EDITION says that when of old Great Cadmus needed men, He sowed upon the new-turned mould The dragon's teeth, and then Uprose a host with arms bedight, Prepared to strive in instant fight. All day the doubtful contest raged With spear and bow and shield ; And when war had his thirst assuaged, There stood upon the field A ch osen few, who built the walls Of 1 hebes, and graced her civic halls. And still, if unto earth there come A call for earnest men, There is no need of trump or drum To rouse them up, for then The cold clods quickly stir with life,. And men are born for instant strife. For, as the ages come and go, The leaders of the van Are proof that this is ever so The hour begets Hie man ; He's Nature's heir, and he alone Has right and title to her throne. Not wealth, nor yet a long descent Tnrough many a famous line, Can give this power to mankind lent F'roni Nature's hand divine, For with the call there comes the might Of those who teach, or preach, or fight. A. R. CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. Pliijjk and Prayer. 633 A?T""HERE wa'n't any use o'fretting, v9f An' I told Obadiah so, For ef we could n't hold on to things, We'd jest got to let 'em go. There were lots of folks that "d suffer Along with the rest of us, \n' it didn't seem to be wurth our while To make such a dreffle fuss. fo be sure, the barn was 'most empty, An' corn an' pertaters sca'ce, An' not much of anything plenty an' cheap, But water an' apple-sass. But then as I told Obadiah It wa' n't any use to groan, For flesh an' blood could n't stan' it; an' he Was nothing but skin an' bone. But, laws ! ef you'd only heerd him, At any hour of the night, \-prayin' out in that closet there, 'Twould have set you crazy quite. I patched the knees of those trousers With cloth that was noways thin, But it seemed as ef the pieces wore out As fast as I set 'em in. To me he said mighty little Of the thorny way we trod, But at least a dozen times a day He talked it over with God. Down on his knees in that closet The most of his time was passed ; For Obadiah knew how to pray Much better than how to fast. But I am that way contrairy That ef things don't go jest right, I feel like rolling my sleeves up high An' gittin' ready to fight. An' the giants I slew that winter I ain't goin' to talk about ; An' I did n't even complain to God, Though I think that He found it out. With the point of a cambric needle I druv the wolf from the door, Por I knew that we need n't starve to death Or be lazy because we were poor. An' Obadiah he wondered, An' kept me patchin' his knees, An' thought it strange how the meal held out, An' stranger we did n't freeze. But I said to myself in whispers, " God knows where his gift descends ; An' 'tis n't always that faith gits down As far as the finger-ends. ' ' An' I would n't have no one reckon My Obadiah a shirk, For some, you know, have the gift to pray And others the gift to work. JOSEPHINE "Jack." E wore a pair of tattered pants, A ragged roundabout, And through the torn crown of his hat A lock of hair stuck out ; He had no shoes upon his feet, No shirt upon his back ; His home was on the friendless street, His name was "Little Jack." One day a toddling baby-boy, With head of curly hair, Escaped his loving mother's eyes, Who, busy with her care, Forgot the little one, who crept Upon a railroad near To play with the bright pebbles there, Without a thought of fear. But see ! around a curve there comes A swiftly flying train It rattles, roars ! the whistle shrieks With all its might and main ; The mother sees her child, but stands Transfixed with sudden fright ! The baby claps his little hands And laughs with low delight. Look ! look ! a tattered figure flies Adown the railroad track ! His hat is gone ! his feet are bare I 'Tis ragged " Little Jack!" He grasps the child, and from the trad* The babe is safely tossed A slip ! a cry ! the train rolls by Brave "Little Jack" is lost. They found his mangled body there Just where he slipped and fell And strong men wept who never cared For him when he was well. If there be starry crowns in heaven For little ones to wear, The star in " Little Jack's" shall shine As bright as any there ! EUGENE CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. Miss Editli Helps Things Along. sister '11 be down in a minute, and says you 're to wait, if you please, And says I might stay 'till she came, if I 'd promise never to tease, Nor speak till you spoke to me first. But that's non sense, for how would you know What she told me to say, if I did n't? Don't you really and truly think so ? "And then you'd feel strange here alone I And you would n't know just where to sit ; For that chair is n't strong on its legs, and we never use it a bit ; We keep it to match with the sofa. But Jack says it would be like you To flop yourself right down upon it and knock out the very last screw. "{''pose you try? I won't tell. You 're afraid to! Oh ! you 're afraid they would think it was mean ! ^'ell then there's the album that's pretty, if you 're sure that your fingers are clean ; ?'or sister says sometimes I daub it, but she only says that when she's cross, there's her picture. You know it ? It's like her, but she ain't as good-looking, of course ! * This is me. It's the best of 'em all. Now, tell me, you'd never have thought That once I was little as that? It's the only one that could be bought For that was the message to pa from the photograph man where I sat That he would n't print off any more till he first got his money for that. " What ? Maybe you 're tired of waiting. Why, often she's longer than this ; There's all her back hair to do up and all of her front curls to friz ; But it's nice to be sitting here talking like grown people, just you and me. Do you think you '11 be coming here often ? Oh, do I But do'nt come like Tom I^ee. : 'Tom Lee? Her last beau. Why, my goodness! He used to be here day and night, Till the folks thought he'd be her husband, and Jack says that gave him a fright. ITou won't run away, then, as he did ? for you 're not a rich man, they say ; Pa says you are as poor as a church mouse. Now, are you ? and how poor are they ? "Ain't you glad that you met me ? Well /am for I know now your hair is n't red ; But what there's left of it is mousy, and not what that naughty Jack said. But there ! I must go ; sister 's coming. But I wish I could wait just to see If she ran up to you and kissed you in the way that she used to kiss Lee." BRET HARTB. After the Burial. 'ES, Faith is a goodly anchor When skies are sweet as a psalm It lolls at the bows so stalwart In bluff, broad-shouldered calm. And when over breakers to leeward The tattered surges are hurled, It may keep our head to the tempest, With its grip on the base of the world. But, after the shipwreck, tell me What help in its iron thews, Still true to the broken hawser, Deep down among seaweed and ooze ? In the breaking gulfs of sorrow, When the helpless feet stretch out, And find in the deeps of darkness No footing so solid as doubt ; Then better one spar of memory, One broken plank of the Past, Thr.t our human heart may cling to, Though hopeless of shore at last ! To the spirit its splendid conjectures^ To the flesh its sweet despair, Its tears o'er the thin worn locket With its anguish of deathless hair f Immortal ? I feel it and know it ; Who doubts it of such as she ? But that is the pang's very secret Immortal away from me ! There's a narrow ridge in the graveyard Would scarce stay a child in his race ; But to me and my thought it is wider Than the star-sown vague of space. Your logic, my friend, is perfect, Your moral's most drearily true ; But since the earth clashed on her coffin^ I keep hearing that, and not you. Console, if you will ; I can bear it ; 'Tis well-meant alms of breath ; But not all the preaching since Adam Has made Death other than Death. CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. 635 It is pagan : but wait till you feel it, That jar of our earth, that dull shock, When the ploughshare of deeper passion Tears down to our primitive rock. Communion in spirit? Forgive me, But I, who am earthly and weak, Would give all my incomes from dreamland For her rose-leaf palm on my cheek I That little shoe in the corner, So worn and wrinkled and brown- Its emptiness confutes you, And argues your wisdom down. JAMES R. LOWEW,. The Men Who Do Not Lift. world is sympathetic ; the statement none can doubt. When A's in trouble don't we think that B should help aim out ? Of course we haven't time ourselves to care for any one, But yet we hope that other folks will see that it is done. We want the grief and penury of earth to be relieved ; We'd have the battles grandly fought, the victories achieved ; We do not care 19 take the lead, and stand the brush and brunt ; At lifting we're a failure, but we're splendid on the grunt. And there are others, so we find, as on our way we jog, Who want to do their lifting on the small end of the log ; They do a lot of blowing, and they strive to make it known That were there no one else to help, they'd lift it all alone. If talking were effective, there are scores and scores of men Who'd move a mountain off its base and move it back again. But as a class, to state it plain, in language true and blunt, They're never worth a cent to lift, for all they do is grunt. The Blind Man and the Lame One. kNE day a blind man chanced to mee 'A lame one limping in the street ; The former hoped with fond delight, The latter would conduct him right. The lame man cried, " Lend aid to theef " I cannot walk, unhappy me ! "And yet, methinks, to bear a load, " Thou hast good shoulders strong and broad. "If thou'lt resolve to bear me hence, " I'll be thy guide as recompense ; "Thy firm strong foot will then be mine, "And my bright eye be also thine." The lame man, with his crutches, rode Upon the blind man 's shoulders broad, United thus achieved the pair What each would have accomplished ne'er The gifts of others thou hast not, While others want what thou hast got ; And from this imperfection springs The good that social virtue brings. If other men the gifts possessed With which by Nature I am blest, Their care but for themselves would be, They ne'er would waste a thought on me. Plague not the gods with wail and cry ! The gifts which they to thee deny, And give another, profit thee ; We need but sociability. CHRISTIAN Lines to an Indian Air. I ARISE from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright. I arise from dreams of thee, And a spirit in my feet Has led me who knows how? To thy chamber-window, sweet I The wandering airs, they faint On the dark, the silent stream The champak odors fail Like sweet thoughts in a dream ; The nightingale's complaint, It dies upon her heart, As I must die on thine, beloved as thou art ! O lift me from the grass ! 1 die, I faint, I fail ! Let thy love in kisses rain On my lips and eyelids pale. My cheek is cold and white, alas I My heart beats loud and fast ; Oh ! press it close to thine again, Where it will break at last. PERCY BYSSHE SHEI,WCY, CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. The Two Glasses. IERE sat two glasses, filled to the brim, 'On a rich man's table, rim to rim ; One was ruddy, and red as blood, And one was clear as the crystal jod. Said the glass of wine to his paler brother, "Let us tell tales of the past to each other. I can tell of banquet, and revel, and mirth, Where I was king, for I ruled in might, And the proudest and grandest souls on earth Fell under my touch, as though struck with blight. From the heads of kings I have torn the crown, Foom the heights of fame I have hurled men down ; I have blasted many an honored name ; I have taken virtue, and given shame ; I have tempted the youth with a sip, a taste. Which has made his future a barren waste. Far greater than any king am I, Or than any army beneath the sky : I have made the arm of the driver fail, And sent the train from its iron rail ; I have made good ships go down at sea, And the shrieks of the lost were sweet to me, For they said, ' Behold, how great you be ! Fame, strength, wealth, genius, before you fall, And your might and power are over all.' flo! ho ! pale brother," laughed the wine, " Can you boast of deeds as great as mine?" Said the water glass : "I cannot boast Of a king dethroned, or a murdered host ; But I can tell of hearts that were sad, By my crystal drops made light and glad ; Of thirsts I have quenched, and brows I've "laved ; Of hands I have cooled, and souls I've saved. I have leaped through the valley, dashed down the mountain, Slept in the sunshine, and dripped from the fountain ; I have burst my cloud fetters and dropped from the sky , And everywhere gladdened the landscape eye. I have eased the hot forehead of fever and pain, I have made the parched meadows grow fertile with grain ; I can tell of the powerful wheel of the mill That ground out the flour, and turned at my will ; I can tell of manhood, debased by you, That I have uplifted and crowned anew. I cheer, I help, I strengthen and aid, I gladden the heart of man and maid ; I set the chained wine-captive free, And all are better for knowing me." These are the tales they told to each other, The glass of wine and its paler brother, As they sat together, filled to the brim, On a rich man's table, rim to rim. WHEELER Our Baby. the morning, half in shadow, 'Ran along the hill and meadow, And with milk-white fingers parted Crimson roses, golden-hearted ; Opening over ruins hoary Every purple morning-glory, And outshaking from the bushes Singing larks and pleasant thrushes ; That's the time our little baby, Stiayed from Paradise, it may be, Came with eyes like heaven above her, Oh, we could not choose but love her I Not enough of earth for sinning, Always gentle, always winning, Never needing our reproving, Ever lively, ever loving ; Starry eyes and sunset tresses, White arms, made for light caresses, Lips, that knew no word of doubting. Often kissing, never pouting : Beauty even in completeness. Overfull of childish sweetness ; That's the way our little baby, Far too pure for earth, it may be, Seemed to us, who while about her Deemed we could not do without hex* When the morning, half in shadow. Ran along the hill and meadow, And with milk-white fingers parted Crimson roses, golden-hearted ; Opening over ruins hoary Every purple moruiug-glory, And outshaking from the bushes Singing larks and pleasant thrushes; That's the time our little baby, Pining here for heaven, it may be, Turning from our bitter weeping, Closed her eyes as when in sleeping, And her white hands on her bosom Folded like a summer blossom. Now the litter she doth lie on, Strewed with roses, bear to Zion ; Go, as past a pleasant meadow, Through the valley of the shadow ! Take her softly, holy angels, Past the ranks of God's evangels ; Past the saints and martyrs holy To the Earth-born, meek and lowly, We would have our precious blossom Softly laid in Jesus" bosom. CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. 637 lattle Dora's Soliloquy. If AN'T see what our baby boy is dood for anyway ; tie don't know how to walk or talk, he don't know how to play ; He tears up ev'ry single zing he posser-bil-ly tan, An' even tried to break, one day, my mamma's bestest fan. He's al'ays tumblin' 'bout ze floor, an' gives us awful scares, An' when he goes to bed at night, he never says his prayers. On Sunday, too, he musses up my go-to-meetin' clothes, An' once I foun' him hard at work a-pinc'in' Dolly's nose; An' ze uzzer day zat naughty boy (now what you s'pose you zink ?) Upset a dreat big bottle of my papa's writin' ink; An', 'stead of kyin' dood an' hard, as course he ought to done, He laughed, and kicked his head 'most off, as zo he zought 'twas fun. He even tries to reach up high, an' pull zings off ze shelf, An' he's al'ays wantin' you, of course, just't when you want you'self. I rather dess, I really do, from how he pulls my turls, Zey all was made a-purpose for to 'noy us little dirls ; An' I wish zere wasn't no such zing as naughty baby ooys Why why ; zat's him a-kyin' now ; he makes a drefful noise, I dess I better run and see, for if he has boo-hoo ! Felled down ze stairs and killed his-self, whatever s-s-s'all I do ! The Treasure Diggers. I VINTNER, at the point of death, Spake to his sons with parting breath ; "A treasure in our vineyard lies. " Dig for it !" " Say, where is the prize?" Aloud they to their father cried. " Dig, dig !" he said, when lo ! he died. Ere in his grave he long had lain, They searched and dug with might and main. With spade, and mattock, and with hoe The vineyard o'er and o'er they throw. No clod escaped their zealous toil, E'en through a sieve they passed the soil, And drew the rakes across, around ; For every stone upon the ground. But of the treasure saw no trace, Each thought 'twas but a wild goose chase. But scarce the sun its yearly round Had made, when they with wonder found Each vine-tree bore a threefold prize. Then grew at length the children wise, And, year on year revolving round, Dug greater treasures from the ground. Good folks, to dig the earth for treasure Is sometimes no such foolish measure. GOTTFRIED AUGUST Over the Iliver. ,VER the river they beckon to me, Loved ones who crossed to the other side ; The gleam of their snowy robes I see, But their voices are drowned by the rushing tide. There's one with ringlets of sunny gold, And eyes the reflection of heaven's own blue ; He crossed in the twilight gray and cold, And the pale mist hid him from mortal view. We saw not the angels that met him there The gates of the city we could not see ; Over the river, over the river, My brother stands, waiting to welcome me. Over the river the boatman pale Carried another, the household pet ; Her brown curls waved in the gentle gale Darling Minnie ! I see her yet ; She closed on her bosom her dimpled hands, And fearlessly entered the phantom bark ; We watched it glide from the silver sands, And all our sunshine grew strangely dark. We know she is safe on the further side, Where all the ransomed and angels be ; Over the river, the mystic river, My childhood's idol is waiting for me. For none return from those quiet shores, Who cross with the boatman cold and pale ; We hear the dip of the golden oars, And catch a glimpse of the snowy sail ; And lo ! they have passed from our yearning iie"irt They cross the stream and are gone for aye. We may not sunder the veil apart That hides from our vision the gates of day ;. We only know that their barks no more Sail with us o'er life's stormy sea ; Yet somewhere, I know, on the unseen shore, They watch and beckon, and wait for me. And I sit and think when the sunset's gold Is flashing on river, and hill, and shore, I shall one day stand by the waters cold And list to the sound of the boatman's oar. 638 CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. I shall watch for the gleam of the flapping sail ; I shall hear the boat as it gains the strand ; I shall pass from sight with the boatman pale To the better shore of the spirit-land. I shall know the loved who have gone before, And joyfully sweet will the meeting be, When over the river, the peaceful river, The angel of death shall carry me. NANCY A. W. PRIEST. The River Path. , O bird-song floated down the hill, [The tangled bank below was still ; No rustle from the birchen stem, No ripple from the water's hem. The dusk of twilight round us grew, We felt the falling of the dew : For, from us ere the day was done, The wooded hills shut out the sun. But on the river's farther side, We saw the hill-tops glorified, A tender glow, exceeding fair, A dream of day without its glare. With us the damp, the chill, the gloom ; With them the sunset's rosy bloom ; While dark, through willowy vistas seen, The river rolled in shade between. From out the darkness where we trod, We gazed upon those hills of God, Whose light seemed not of morn or sun ; We spake not, but our thought was one. We paused, as if from that bright shore Beckoned our dear ones gone before ; And stilled our beating hearts to hear The voices lost to mortal ear ! Sudden our pathway turned from right ; The hills swung open to the light ; Through their green gates the sunshine showed, A long slant splendor downward flowed. Down glade and glen and bank it rolled : It bridged the shaded stream with gold : And, borne on piers of mist, allied The shadowy with the sunlit side ! " So," prayed we, " when our feet draw near The river dark with mortal fear. "And the night cometh, chill with dew, O Father, let thy light break through ! " So let the hills of doubt divide, To bridge with faith the sunless tideV " So let the eyes that fail on earth O'er thy eternal hills look forth : "And in thy beckoning angels know The dear ones whom we loved below !" JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. I The Golden Street. [B toil is very long and I am tired : Oh, Father, I am weary of the way ! Give me that rest I have so long desired ; Bring me that Sabbath's cool refreshing day, And let the fever of *ny world-worn feet Press the cool smoothness of the golden street. Tired, very tired ! And I at times have seen, When the far pearly gates were open thrown For those who walked no more with me, the greeu Sweet foliage of the trees that there alone At last wave over those whose world-worn feet Press the cool smoothness of the golden street. When the gates open, and before they close Sad hours but holy I have watched the tide Whose living crystal there forever flows Before the throne, and sadly have I sighed To think how long until my world-worn feet Press the cool smoothness of the golden street. They shall not wander from that blessed way ; Nor heat, nor cold, nor weariness, nor sin, Nor any clouds in that eternal day Trouble them more who once have entered in J But all is rest to them whose world-worn fee* Press the cool smoothness of the golden street. Thus the gates close and I behold no more, Though, as I walk, they open oftener now For those who leave me and go on before ; And I am lonely also while I bow And think of those dear souls whose world- worn feet Press the cool smoothness of the golden street. Tired, very tired ! but I will patient be, Nor will I murmur at the weary way ; I too shall walk beside the crystal sea, And pluck the ripe fruit, all that God-lit day, When thou, O Lord, shalt let my world-worn feet Press the cool smoothness of the golden street. O. STODDARD. CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. Maude and Madge. EY sat and combed their beautiful hair, Their long bright tresses, one by one, As they laughed and talked in their chamber there, After the revel was done. Idly they talked of waltz and quadrille, Idly they laughed like other girls, Who over the fire, when all is still, Comb out their braids and curls. Robes of satin and Brussels lace, Knots of flowers, and ribbons, too, Scattered about in every place, For the revel is through. And Maud and Madge in robes of white, The prettiest night-gowns under the sun, Stockingless, slipperless, sit in the night, For the revel is done : Sit and comb their beautiful hair, Those wonderful waves of brown and gold, Till the fire is out in the chamber there, And the little bare feet are cold : Then out of the gathering winter chill, All out of the bitter St. Agnes weather, While the fire is out and the house is still, Maud and Madge together, Maud and Madge in robes of white, The prettiest night-gowns under the sun, Curtained away from the chilly night, After the revel is done, Float along in a splendid dream, To a golden gittern's tinkling tune, While a thousand lusters shimmering stream In a palace's grand saloon, Flashing of jewels and nutter of laces Tropical odors sweeter than musk, Men and women with beautiful faces, And eyes of tropical dusk. And one face shining out like a star, One face haunting the dreams of each, And one voice, sweeter than others are, Breaking in silvery speech ; Telling through lips of bearded bloom An old, old story over again, As down the royal bannered room, To the golden gittern's strain, Two and two they dreamily walk, While an unseen spirit walks beside, And, all unheard in the lover's talk, He claimeth one for his bride. O Maud and Madge, dream 011 together, With never a pang of jealous fear ! For, ere the bitter St. Agnes weather Shall whiten another year, Robed for the bridal and robed for the tomb, Braided brown hair and golden tress, There '11 be only one of you left for the bloom Of the bearded lips to press. Only one for the bridal pearls, The robe of satin and Brussels lace Only one to blush through her curls At the sight of a lover's face. O beautiful Madge, in your bridal white I For you the revel has just begun ; But for her who sleeps in your arms to-night The revel of Life is done ! But robed and crowned with your saintly bliss. Queen of Heaven and bride of the sun, O beautiful Maud, you'll never miss The kisses another hath won ! NORA Ships at Sea. I HAVE ships that went to sea, More than fifty years ago ; None have yet come home to me, But are sailing to and fro. I have seen them in my sleep, Plunging through the shoreless deep, With tattered sails and battered hulls, While round them screamed the gulls* Flying low, flying low. I have wondered why they strayed From me, sailing round the world ; And I've said, " I'm half afraid That their sails will ne'er be furled. ' Great the treasures that they hold, Silks, and plumes, and bars of gold; While the spices that they bear, Fill with fragrance all the air, As they sail, as they sail. Ah ! each sailor in the port Knows that I have ships at sea, Of the waves and winds the sport- And the sailors pity me. Oft they come and with me walkj Cheering me with hopeful talk, Till I put my fears aside, And, contented, watch the tide Rise and fall, rise and fall. 640 CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. I have waited on the piers, Gazing for them down the bay, Days and nights for many years, Till I turned heart-sick away. But the pilots, when they land, Stop and take me by the hand, Saying, " You will live to see Your proud vessels come from sea, One and all, one and all." So I never quite desp air, Nor let hope or courage fail ; And some day, when skies are fair, Up the bay my ships will sail. I shall buy then all I need, Prints to look at, books to read, Horses, wines, and works of art, Everything except a heart, That is lost, that is lost. Once, when I was pure and young, Richer, too, than I am now, Ere a cloud was o'er me flung, Or a wrinkle creased my brow, There was one whose heart was mine; But she's something now divine, And though come my ships from sea, They can bring no heart to me Evermore, evermore. ROBERT B. COFFIN. The Courtin'. \ OD makes sech nights, all white an' still Fur 'z you can look or listen Moonshine an' snow on field an' hill silence an' all glisten. Zekel crep' quite unbeknown An' peeked in thru' the winder, An' there sot Huldy all alone, 'Itli no one nigh to hender. A fireplace filled the room's one side With half a cord o' wood in There warn't no stoves (tell comfort died) To bake ye to a puddin'. The wa'nut logs shot sparkles out Towards the pootiest, bless her ! An' leetle flames danced all about The chiny on the dresser. Agin 'he chimbley crook necks hung, An' in among 'em rustxl The o'd queen's-arm thet gfan'ther Young Fetched back from Concord busted. The very room, coz she was in, Seemed warm from floor to ceilin* ; An' she looked full ez rosy agin, Ez the apples she was peelin.' 'Twas kin' o' kingdom-come to look On such a blessed creetur, A dogrose blushin' to a brooK Ain't modester nor sweeter. He was six foot o' man, A i, Clean grit an' human natur' ; None couldn't quicker pitch a ton Nor dror a furrer straighter. He'd sparked it with full twenty gals, He'd scuired 'em, danced 'em, druv 'etn $ Fust this one, an' then thet, by spells All is, .ie couldn't love 'em. But long o' her his veins 'ould run All crinkly like curled maple, The side she breshed felt full O'SUH. Ez a south slope in Ap'il. She thought no v'ice hed sech a swing Ez hisn in the choir ; My ! when he made " Ole Hundred" nag. She knowed the Lord was nigher. An' she'd blush scarlet, right in prayer, When her new meetin' bunnet Felt somehow thru' its crown a pair O' blue eyes sot upon it. She heered a foot, an' knowed it tu, A raspin' on the scraper All ways to once her feelin's flew Like sparks in burnt-up paper. He kin' o' 1'itered on the mat, Some doubtfle o' the sekle, His heart kep' goin' pity-pat, But hern went pity Zekle. An* yit she gin her cheer a jerk Ez though she wished him furder. An' on her apples kep' to work, Parin' away like murder. " You want to see my Pa, I s'pose ?" "Wall .... no .... I come designin' "To see my Ma? She's sprinklin' clo'es Agin to-morrer's i'nin'." To say why gals act so or so, Or don't 'ould be presumin' ; Mebby to mean yes an' say no Comes nateral to women. CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. 641 He stood a spell 011 one foot fust, Then stood a spell ou t'other, An' on which one he felt the wust He couldn't ha' told ye nuther. Says he, "I'd better call agin ;" Says she "Think likely, Mister;" That last word pricked him like a pin An .... Wai, he up an' kist her When Ma bimeby upon 'em slips, Huldy sot pale ez ashes, All kin' o" smily roun' the lips An* teary roun' the lashes. For she was jes' the quiet kind Whose naturs never vary, Like streams that keep a summer mind Snowhid in Jenooary. The blood clost roun 1 her heart felt glued Too tight for all expressin', Till mother see how metters stood, And gin 'em both her blessin'. Then her red come back like the tide Down to the Bay o' Fundy, An* all I know is, they was cried In meetin' come nex' Sunday. JAMES RUSSEU, On Recrossing the Rocky Mountains. years ago I wandered here, In the midsummer of the year, Life's summer too ; A score of horsemen here we rode, The mountain world its glories showed. All fair to view. These scenes in glowing colors drest, Mirrored the life within my breast, Its world of hopes ; The whispering woods and fragrant breeze That stirred the grass in verdant seas On billow}- slopes. And glistening crag in sunlit sky, Mid snowy clouds piled mountains high, Were joys to me ; My path was o'er the prairie wide, Or here on grander mountain-side, To choose, all free. The rose that waved in morning air, And spread its dewy fragrance there In careless bloom, Gave to my heart its ruddiest hue, O'er my glad life its color threw And sweet perfume. 41 The buoyant hopes and busy life Have ended all in hateful strife, And thwarted aim. The world's rude contact killed the roc No more its radiant color shows False roads to fame. Backward, amidst the twilight glow Some lingering spots yet brightly show On hard roads won, Where still some grand peaks mark the way, Touched by the light of parting day And memory's sun. But here thick clouds the mountains hide. The dim horizon bleak and wide No pathway shows, And rising gusts, and darkening sky, Tell of " the night that cometh," nigh, The brief day's close. JOHN C. FREMONT. The Old Hearthstone. k Y son, thou wilt dream the world is fair, And thy spirit will sigh to roam, And thou must go ; but never, when there. Forget the light of home I Though pleasure may smile with a ray more bright; It dazzles to lead astray Like the meteor's flash, 'twill deepen the night When treading thy lonely way : But the hearth of home has a constant flame, And pure as a vestal fire Twill burn, 'twill burn forever the same. For nature feeds the pyre. The sea of ambition is tempest-tossed, And thy hopes may vanish like foam When sails are shiver'd and compass lost. Then look to the light of home I And there, like a star through midnignt cloud. Thou'lt see the beacon bright ; For never, till shining on thy shroud, Can be quenched its holy light. The sun of fame may guild the name, But the heart ne'er felt its ray ; And fashion's smiles, that rich ones claim. Are beams of a wintry day. How cold and dim those beams would be, Should life's poor wanderer come ! My son, when the world is dark to thee, Then turn to the light of home. SARAH J. CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. The Sleeping 1 SentiiieL The incidents here woven into verse relate to William Scott, young soldier from the State of Vermont, who, while on duty as a. sentinel at night, fell asleep, and, having been condemned to die, was pardoned by the President. They form a brief record of his humble Kfe at home and in the field, and of his glorious death. AS in the sultry summer-time, as war's red records show, When patriot armies rose to meet a fratricidal foe When, from the North and East and West, like the up heaving sea, Swept forth Columbia's sons, to make our country truly free. Within a prison's dismal walls, where shadows veiled decay In fetters, on a heap of straw, a youthful soldier lay ; Heart-broken, hopeless, and forlorn, with short and feverish breath, He waited but the appointed hour to die a culprit's death. Yet, but a few brief weeks before, untroubled with a care, He roamed at will, and freely drew his native moun tain air Where sparkling streams leap mos / rocks, from many a woodland font, And waving elms, and grassy slopes, give beauty to Vermont. Where, dwelling in a humble cot, a tiller of the soil Encircled by a mother's love he shared a father's toil Till, borne upon the wailing winds, his suffering coun try's cry Fired his young heart with fervent zeal, for her to live or die; Then left he all : a few fond tears, by firmness half concealed, A blessing, and a parting prayer, and he was in the field The field of strife, whose dews are blood, whose breezes war's hot breath, Whose fruits are garnered in the grave, whose hus bandman is death ! Without a murmur, he endured a service new and hard; But, wearied with a toilsome march, it chanced one night, on guard, He sank, exhausted, at his post, and the gray morning found His prostrate form a sentinel asleep upon the ground. So in the silence of the night, aweary, on the sod, Sank the disciples, watching near the suffering Son at God; Yet, Jesus, with compassion moved, beheld their heavy eyes, And though betray'd to ruthless foes, forgiving, bade them rise. But God is love and finite minds can faintly compi c hend How gentle mercy, in His rule, may with stern justice blend ; And this poor soldier, seized and bound, found none to justify, While war's inexorable law decreed that he must die. 'Twas night. In a secluded room, with measured tread, and slow, A statesman of commanding mien paced gravely to and fro ; Oppressed, he pondered on a land by civil discord rent ; On brothers armed in deadly strife : it was the Presl dent. The woes of thirty millions filled his burdened heart with grief, Embattled hosts, on land and sea, acknowledged him their chief; And yet, amid the din of war, he heard the plaintive cry Of that poor soldier, as he lay in prison, doomed to die. 'Twas morning. On a tented field, and through tbe heated haze, Flashed back, from lines of burnished arms, the sun's effulgent blaze ; While, from a sombre prison-house, seen slowly to emerge A sad procession, o'er the sward, moved to a mr flied dirge. And in the midst, with faltering steps, and pal 4 an4 anxious face, In manacles, between two guards, a soldier h.d his place, A youth led out to die ; and yet, it was no ieath, but shame That smote his gallant heart with dread, and sh ok hi* manly frame. Still on, before the marshall'd ranks, the train pursue? its way Up to the designated spot, whereon a coffin lay His coffin; and with reeling brain, despairing Teso late He took his station bv its side, abandoned to fete tate- CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. 643 Then came acrost, bis wavering sight strange pictures in the air ; He saw his distant mountain home ; he saw his mother there; He saw his father bowed in grief, thro' fast-declining years; He saw a nameless jjrave ; and then, the vision closed in tears. Yet once again. In double file advancing, then, he saw Twelve comrades sternly set apart to execute the law But saw no more ; his senses swam deep darkness settled round And, shuddering, he awaited now the fatal volley's sound. Then suddenly was heard the noise of steed and wheels approach, And, rolling through a cloud of dust, appeared a stately coach, On, past the guards, and through the field, its rapid course was bent, Till, halting, 'mid the lines was seen the nation's President. He came to save that stricken soul, now waking from despair ; And from a thousand voices rose a shout which rent the ai*t The pardoned soldier understood the tones of jubilee, And, bounding from his fetters, blessed the hand that made him free. 'Twas spring within a verdant vale, where Warwick 's crystal tide Reflected, o'er its peaceful breast, fair fields on either side Where birds and flowers combined to cheer a sylvan solitude Two threatening armies, face to face in fierce defiance Stood. Two threatening armies ! One invoked by injured Liberty Which bore above its patriot ranks the Symbol of the Free; And one, a rebel horde, beneath a flaunting flag of bars, A fragment, torn by traitorous hands, from Freedom's Stripes and Stars. A sudden shock which shook the earth, 'mid vapor dense and dun, Proclaimed, along the echoing hills, the conflict had begun; And shot and shell, athwart the stream with fiendish fury sped, To strew among the living lines the dying and the dead- Then, louder than the roaring storm, pealed forth the stern command, "Charge! soldiers, charge!" and, at the word, with shouts, a fearless band, Two hundred heroes from Vermont, rushed onward, through the flood, And upward o'er the rising ground, they marked their way in blood. The smitten foe before them fled, in terror, from his post While, unsustained, two hundred stood, to battle with a host ! Then turning as the rallying ranks, with murd'rou? fire replied, They bore the fallen o'er the field, and through th* purple tide. The fallen! And the first who fell in that unequal strife, Was he whom mercy sped to save when justice claimed his life The pardon'd soldier! And while yet the conflict raged around, While yet his life-blood ebbed away through every gaping wound While yet his voice grew tremulous, and death be- dimmed his eye He called his comrades to attest he had not feared to die ; And in his last expiring breath, a prayer to heaven was ' sent, That God, with His unfailing grace, would bless on* President. FRANCIS Da HAKS JANVIER. Old Grimes. ,D Grimes is dead, that good old man We ne'er shall see him more ; He used to wear a long black coat, All buttoned down before. His heart was open as the day, His feelings all were true ; His hair was some inclined to gray He wore it in a queue. Whene'er he heard the voice of pain, His breast with pity burned ; The large round head upon his cane From ivory was turned. Kind words he ever had for all ; He knew no base design ; His eyes were dark and rather small . His nose was aquiline- 644 CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. He lived at peace with all mankind, In friendship he was true ; His coat had pocket-holes behind, His pantaloons were blue. Unharmed, the sin which earth pollutes He passed securely o'er, And never wore a pair o' boots For thirty years or more. But good Old Grimes is now at rest, Nor fears misfortune's frown ; He wore a double-breasted vest The stripes ran up and down. He modest merit sought to find, And pay it its desert ; He had no malice in his mind, No ruffles on his shirt. His neighbors he did not abuse Was sociable and gay ; He wore large buckles on his shoes, And changed them every day. His knowledge, hid from public gaze. He did not bring to view, Nor make a noise town-meeting days, As many people do. His worldly goods he never threw In trust to fortune's chances, But lived (as all his brothers do) In easy circumstances. Thus undisturbed by anxious cares His peaceful moments ran ; And everybody said he was A fine old gentleman. G. The Vagabonds. I are two travelers, Roger and I. Roger's my dog : come here, you scamp ! Jump for the gentlemen mind your eye ! Over the table look out for the lamp I Jhe rogue is growing a little old ; Five years we've tramped through wind and weather, And slept out-doors when nights were cold, And ate and drank and starved together. We've learned what comfort is, I tell you ! A bed on the floor, a bit of rosin, & fire to thaw our thumbs (poor fellow ! The paw he holds up there's been frozen,) Plenty of catgut for my fiddle, (This out-door business is bad for strings,) Then a few nice buckwheats hot from the griddle, And Roger and I set up for kings 1 No, thank ye, sir I never drink ; Roger and I are exceedingly moral Aren't we, Roger ? see him wink ! Well, something hot, then we won't quarreL He's thirsty, too see him nod his head ? What a pity, sir, that dogs can't talk ! He understands every word that's said And he knows good milk from water-and-chalk.. The truth is, sir, now I reflect, I've been so sadly given to grog, I wonder I've not lost the respect (Here's to you, sir !) even of my dog. But he sticks by, through thick and thin ; And this old coat, with its empty pockets, And rags that smell of tobacco and gin, He'll follow while he has eyes in his sockets. There isn't another creature living Would do it, and prove, through every disaster, So fond, so faithful, and so forgiving, To such a miserable, thankless master ! No, sir ! see him wag his tail and grin ! By George ! it makes my old eyes water f That is, there's something in this gin That chokes a fellow. But no matter ! We'll have some music, if you're willing, And Roger (hem ! what a plague a cough is, sir f) Shall march a little Start you villain ! Stand straight ! 'Bout face ! Salute your officer) Put up that paw ! Dress ! Take your rifle ! (Some dogs have arms, you see !) Now hold yoor Cap while the gentlemen give a trifle, To aid a poor old patriot soldier ! March ! Halt ! Now show how the rebel shakes When he stands up to hear his sentence. Now tell us how many drams it takes To honor a jolly new acquaintance. Five yelps that's five ; he's mighty knowing I The night's before us, fill the glasses ! Quick, sir ! I'm ill my brain is going ! Some brandy ! thank you ! there ! it passes I Why not reform ? That's easily said ; But I've gone through such wretched treatment. Sometimes forgetting the taste of bread, And scarce remembering what meat meant. That my poor stomach's past reform ; And there are times when, mad with thinkit^r. I'd sell out heaven for something warm To prop a horrible inward sinking. Is there a way to forget to think? At your age, sir, home, fortune^ friends, A dear girl's love but I took to drink ; The same old story ; you know how it ends. CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. ]f you could have een these classic features Yon needn't laugh, sir; they -were not then Such a burning libel on God's creatures ; I was one of your handsome men. Jf yon had seen her, so fair and young, Whose head was happy on this breast ! If you could have heard the songs I sung When the wine went round, you wouldn't have That ever I, sir, should be straying [guessed From door to door, with fiddle and dog, Ragged and penniless, and playing To yon to-night for a glass of grog ! She's married since a parson's wife : 'Twas better for her that we should part Better the soberest, prosiest life Than a blasted home and a broken heart. I have seen her? Once : I was weak and spent, On the dusty road, a carriage stopped : But little she dreamed, as on she went, Who kissed the coin that her fingers dropped ! You've set me talking, sir ; I'm sorry ; It makes me wild to think of the change ! What do you care for a beggar's story ! Is it amusing? you find it strange ? I had a mother so proud of me ! Twas well she died before Do you know If the happy spirits in heaven can see The ruin and wretchedness here below ? Another glass, and strong, to deaden This pain ; then Roger and I will start. I wonder, has he such a lumpish, leaden, Aching thing, in place of a heart ? He is sad sometimes, and would weep, if he coald, No doubt remembering things that were A virtuou. kennel, with plenty of food, And himself a sober, respectable cur. I'm better now ; that glass was warming You rascal ! limber your lazy feet ! We must be fiddling and performing For supper and bed, or starve in the street. Not a very gay life to lead, you think ? But soon we shall go where lodgings are free, And the sleepers need neither victuals nor drink ; The sooner, the better for Roger and me I JOHN T. TROWBRIDGB. The Miller's Daughter. IT is the miller's daughter, And she is grown so dear, so dear, That I would be the jewel That trembles at her ear : For, hid in ringlets day and uight, I'd touch her neck so warm and white. And I would be the girdle About her dainty, dainty And her heart would beat against ta In sorrow and in rest : And I should know if it beat right, I'd clasp it round so close and tight. And I would be the necklace, And all day long to fall and rise Upon her balmy bosom, With her laughter or her sighs : And I would lie so light, so light, I scarce should be unclasped at night. Little Nell's Funeral. ND now the bell the bell She had so often heard by night and dpy, And listened to with solemn pleasure, E'en as a living voice Rung its remorseless toll for her, So young, so beautiful, so good. Decrepit age, and vigorous life, And blooming youth, and helpless infancy, Poured forth on crutches, in the pride of strengtfc And health, in the full blush Of promise, the mere dawn of life To gather round her tomb. Old men were there. Whose eyes were dim And senses failing Grandames, who might have died ten years ago, And still been old the deaf, the blind, the lame. The palsied, The living dead in many shapes and forms, To see the closing of this early grave. What was the death it would shut in, To that which still could crawl and keep above jv- Along the crowded path they bore her now ; Pure as the new fallen snow That covered it ; whose day on earth Had been as fleeting. Under that porch, where she had sat when rteavcn In mercy brought her to that peaceful spot, She passed again, and the old ch\ircn Received her in its quiet shade. They carried her to one old nook, Where she had many and many a time sat musing, And laid their burclen softly on the pavement. The. light streamed on it through The colored window a window where the boughs Of trees were ever rustling In the summer, and where tfr-2 birds Sang sweetly a\l day long. CHOICK SELECTIONS OF POETRY. Christmas Time. i HAP on more wood ! the wind is chill ; Ifiut let it whistle as it will, We'll keep our Christmas merry still ; Each age has deemed the new-born year The fittest time for festal cheer : And well our Christian sires of old Ioved when the year its course had rolled, And brought blithe Christmas back again, With all his hospitable train. Domestic and religious rite Gave honor to the holy night : On Christmas eve the bells were rung ; On Christinas eve the mass was sung; That only night, in all the year, Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear. The damsel donned her kirtle sheen ; The hall was dressed with holly green ; Forth to the wood did merry-men go, To gather in the mistletoe. Then opened wide the baron's hall To vassal, tenant, serf, and all ; Power laid his rod of rule aside, And Ceremony doffed his pride. The heir, with roses in his shoes, That night might village partner choose, The lord, underogating, share The vulgar game of "post and pair." All hailed, with uncontrolled delight And general voice, the happy night That to the cottage, as the crowti , Brought tidings of salvation down. The fire, with well-dried logs applied, Went roaring up the chimney wide ; The huge hall-table's oaken face, Scrubbed till it shone the day to grace, Bore then upon its massive board No mark to part the squire and lord. Then was brought in the lusty brawn, By old blue-coated serving-man ; Then the grim boar's head frowned on high, Crested with bays and rosemary. Well can the green-garbed ranger tell How, when and where the monster fell ; What dogs before his death he tore, And all the baiting of the boar. The wassail round, in good brown bowls, Garnished with ribbons, blithlely trowls. There the huge sirloin reeked ; hard by Plum-porridge stood, and Christinas pie ; Nor failed old Scotland to produce, At such high-tide, her savory goose. Then came the merry maskers in, And carols roared with blithesome din ; tf unmelodious was the song, It was a hearty note, and strong. Who lists may in their mumming see Traces of ancient mystery ; White skirls supplied the masquerade, And smutted cheeks the visors made ; But, O, what maskers richly dight Can boast of bosoms half so light! England was merry England, when Old Christmas brought his sports again. 'T was Christmas broached the mightiest ale ; 'T was Christmas told the merriest tale ; A Christmas gambol oft could cheer The poor man's heart through half the year. SIR The Worn Wedding Ring. UR wedding ring wears thin, dear wife? ah, summers not a few, Since I put it on your finger first, have passed o'et me and you ; And, love, what changes we have seen, what cares and pleasures, too, Since you became my own dear wife, when this old ring was new ! i O, blessings on that happy day, the happiest of my life, When, thanks to God, your low, sweet " Yes " made you my loving wife ! Your heart will say the same, I know ; that day's as dear to you, That day that made me yours, dear wife, when this old ring was new. How well do I remember now your young sweet face that day ! How fair you were, how dear you were, m , tongue could hardly say ; Nor how I doated on you ; O, how proud I was of you But did I love you more than now, when this old rinr was new ? No no ! no fairer were you then than at this hour to me ; And, dear as life to me this day, how could yon dearet be? As sweet your face might he that day as now it is, 'tis true! But did I know your heart as well when this old ring was new? Years bring fresh links to bind us, wife, young voices that are here ; Young faces round our fire that make their mother's yet more dear ; Young loving hearts your care each day makes et more like to you, More like the loving heart made mine when this old ring was new. CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. The past is dear, its sweetness still our memories treas ure yet ; The griefs we've borne, together borne, we would not now forget. Whatever, wife, the future brings, heart unto heart still true, We : U share as we have shared all else since this old ring was new. And if God spares us 'mongst our sons and daughters to grow old, We know His goodness will not let your heart or mine grow cold. Your aged eyes will see in mine all they've still shown to you, And mine in yours all they have seen since this old ring was new. And O, when death shall come at last to bid me to my rest, May I die looking in those eyes, and resting on that breast; O, may my parting gaze be blessed with the dear sight of you, Of those fond eyes, fond as they were when this old ring was new ! WIGWAM Cox BENNETT. Faithless Nelly Gray. iN BATTLE was a soldier bold, And used to war's alarms ; But a cannon ball took off his legs, So he laid down his arms ! Now as they bore him off the field, Said he, " Let others shoot, Fof here I leave my second leg, And the Forty -second Foot !" The army surgeons made him limbs: Said he "They're only pegs; But there's as wooden members quite As represent my legs !" Now Ben he loved a pretty maid, Her name was Nelly Gray ! So he went to pay her his devours When he'd devoured his pay. But when he called on Nelly Gray, She made him quite a scoff; /Lnd when she saw his wooden legs, to take them off ! " O Nelly Gray ! O Nelly Gray f Is this your love so warm ? The love that loves a scarlet coat, Should be more uniform !" Said she, " I loved a soldier once. For he was blithe and brave ; But I will never have a man With both legs in the grave I " Before you had those timber toes, Your love I did allow, But then you know, you stand upon Another footing now !" " O Nelly Gray ! O Nelly Gray ! For all your cheering speeches, At duty's call I left my legs In Badajos's breaches!" " Why, then," said she, "you've lost the feet Of legs in war's alarms, And now you cannot wear your shoes Upon your feats of armsl" " O, false and fickle Nelly Gray ; I know why you refuse : Though I've no feet some other man Is standing in my shoes ! " I wish I n'er had seen your face ; But, now, a long farewell ! For you will be my death : alas ! You will not be my Nell!" Now when he went front Nelly Gray, His heart so heavy got And life was such a burthen grown, It made him take a knot ! So round his melancholy neck A rope he did entwine, And, for his second time in life, Enlisted in the lyine ! One end he tied around a beam, And then removed his pegs, And, as his legs were off of course. He soon was off his legs ! And there he hung till he was dead As any nail in town For though distress had cut him up, It could not cut him down : A dozen men sat on his corpse, To find out why he died And they buried Ben in four cross-roads, With a stake in his inside I THOMAS Hooo 648 CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. A Milkmaid's Song:. , pull 1 and the pail is full, 'And milking's done and over, Who would not sit here under the tree? What a fair, fair thing's a green field to see I Brim, brim, to the rim, uh me ! I have set my pail on the daisies ! It seems so light can the sun be set ? rhe dews must be heavy, my cheeks are wet, I could cry to have hurt the daisies ! Harry is near, Harry is near, My heart's as sick as if he were here, My lips are burning, my cheeks are wet, He hasn't uttered a word as yet, But the air's astir with his praises. My Harry I The air's astir with your praises. He has scaled the rock by the pixy's stone, He's among the kingcups he picks me one, I love the grass that I tread upon When I go to my Harry 1 He has jumped the brook, he has climbed the knoll, There's never a faster foot I know, But still he seems to tarry. O Harry ! O Harry ! my love, my pride, My heart is leaping, my arms are wide 1 Roll up, roll up, you dull hillside, Roll up, and bring my Harry ! They may talk of glory over the sea, But Harry's alive, and Harry's for me. My love, my lad, my H& rry ! Come spring, come winter, come sun, come snow. What cares Dolly, whether or no, While I can milk and marry ? Right or wrong, and wrong or right, Quarrel who quarrel, and fight who fight, But I'll bring my pail home every night To love, and home, and Harry ! We'll drink our can, we'll eat our cake, There's beer in the barrel, there's bread in the bake, The world may sleep, the world may wake, But I shall milk and marry, And marry, / shall milk and marry. SYDNEY John Maynard. 9 /3T"WAS on Lake Erie's broad expanse, ^f One bright midsummer day, The gallant steamer Ocean Queen Swept proudly on her way. Bright faces clustered on the deck, Or leaning o'er the side, Watched carelessly the feathery foam, That flecked the rippling tide. Ah, who beneath that cloudless sky, That smiling bends serene, Could dream that danger, awful, vast, Impended o'er the scene Could dream that ere an hour had sped, That frame of sturdy oak Would sink beneath the lake's blue wevQ,,* Blackened with fire and smoke? A seaman sought the captain's side, A moment whispered low ; The captain's swarthy face grew pale, He hurried down below. Alas, too late ! Though quick and shai| And clear his orders came, No human efforts could avail To quench the insidious flame. The bad news quickly reached the deck,. It sped from lip to lip, And ghastly faces everywhere Looked from the doomed ship. " Is there no hope no chance of life?" A hundred lips implore ; " But one," the captain made reply, " To run the ship on shore." A sailor, whose heroic soul That hour should yet reveal By name John Maynard, eastern born Stood calmly at the wheel. " Head her southeast I" the captain shook , Above the smothered roar, ' Head her southeast without delay I Make for the nearest shore I" fJo terror pales the helmsman's cheek, Or clouds his dauntless eye, As in a sailor's measured tone His voice responds, " Ay, Ay ! " Three hundred souls the steamer's freight- Crowd forward wild with fear, While at the stern the dreadful flames Above the deck appear. John Maynard watched the nearing flames* But still, with steady hand He grasped the wheel, and steadfastly He steered the ship to land. " John Maynard, " with an anxious voice, The captain cries once more, " Stand by the wheel five minutes yet, And we will reach the shore. " Through flames and smoke that dauntless tewft Responded firmly, still Unawed, though face to face with death, " With God's good help I will I " CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. 649 The flames approach with giant strides, They scorch his hands and brow ; One arm disabled seeks his side, Ah, he is conquered now ! Bnt no, his teeth are firmly set, He crushes down the pain His knee upon the stanchion pressed, He guides the ship again. One moment yet ! one moment yet I Brave heart, thy task is o'er ! The pebbles grate beneath the keel, The steamer touches shore. Three hundred grateful voices rise, In praise to God, that He Hath saved them from the fearful fire, And from the ingulfing sea. Bnt where is he, that helmsman bold? The captain saw him reel His nerveless hands released their task, He sunk beside the wheel. The wave received his lifeless corpse, Blackened with smoke and fire. God rest him ! Hero never had A nobler funeral pyre I HORATIO It Snows. and IT snows ! ' ' cries the schoolboy ' ' Hurran ! and his shout Is ringing through the parlor and hall, While swift as the wink of a swallow, he's out, And his playmates have answered his call : It makes the heart leap but to witness their joy- Proud wealth has no pleasures, I trow, Like the rapture that throbs in the pulse of the boy, As he gathers his treasures of snow ; Then lay not the trappings of gold on thine heirs, While health and the riches of nature are theirs. "It snows!" sighs the imbecile "Ah!" and his breath Comes heavy, as clogged with a weight ; While from the pale aspect of nature in death, He turns to the blaze of his grate : And nearer, and nearer, his soft-cushioned chair Is wheeled tow'rds the life-giving flame He dreads a chill puff of the scow-burdened air, Lest it wither his delicate frame : Oh, small is the pleasure existence can give, When the fear we shall die only proves that we live ! 'It snows!" cries the traveler " Ho!" and the word Has quickened his steed's lagging pace ; The wind rushes by, but its howl is unheard Unfelt the sharp drift in his face ; For bright through the tempest his own home ap peared Ay, though leagues intervened, he can see ; t There's the clear, glowing hearth, and the table pro* And his wife with their babes at her knee. Blest thought ! how it lightens the grief-laden hoot, That those we love dearest are safe from its power I "It snows!" cries the belle "Dear, how Inckyl" and turns Prom her mirror to watch the flakes fall ; Like the first rose cf summer, her dimpled cheek burns, While musing on sleigh-ride and ball : There are visions of conquest, of splendor, and miith, Floating over each drear winter's day ; Bnt the tintings of hope on this storm beaten earth, Will melt like the snow flakes, away ; Turn, turn thee to heaven, fair maiden, for bliss That world has a fountain ne'er opened in this. "It snows!" cries the widow "O God!'' and her sighs Have stifled the voice of her prayer ; Its burden ye'll read in her tear-swollen eyes. On her cheek, sunk with fasting and care. Tis night and her fatherless ask her for bread- But " He gives the young ravens their food," And she trusts, till her dark heart adds horror to dread And she lays on her last chip of wood. Poor sufferer ! that sorrow thy God only knows- - Tis a pitiful lot to be poor when it snows ! SARAH JOSEPHA Johnny Bartholomew. HE journals this morning are full of a tale Of a terrible ride through a tunnel by rail ; And people are called on to note and admire How a hundred or more, through the smoke-cloud and fire, Were borne from all peril to limbs and to lives- Mothers saved to their children, and husbands to wir *> But of him who performed such a notable deed Quite little the journalist gives us to read. In truth, of thi? hero so plucky and bold, There is nothing except, in few syllables told. His name, which is Johnny Bartholomew. CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. Away in Nevada they don't tell us where, Nor does it much matter a railway is there, Which winds in and out through the cloven ravines, With glimpses at times of the wildest of scenes Now passing a bridge seeming fine as a thread, Now shooting past cliifs that impend o'er the head, Now plunging some black- throated tunnel within, Whose darkness is roused at the clatter and din ; And ran every day with its train o'er the road, An engine that steadily dragged on its load, And was driven by Johnny Bartholomew. With throttle-valve down, he was slowing the train, While the sparks fell around and behind him like rain, As he came to a spot where a curve to the right Brought the black, yawning mouth of a tunnel in sight, And peering ahead with a far-seeing ken, Felt a quick sense of danger come over him then. Was a train on the track ? No ! A peril as dire The further extreme of the tunnel on fire ! And the volume of smoke as it gathered and rolled, Shook fearful dismay from each dun-colored fold, But daunted not Johnny Bartholomew. Beat faster his heart, though its current stood still, And his nerves felt ajar but no tremulous thrill ; And his eyes keenly gleamed through their partly closed lashes, And his lips not with fear took the color of ashes. " If we falter, these people behind us are dead ! So close the doors, fireman we'll send her ahead I Crowd on the steam till she rattles and swings I Open the throttle-valve ! Give her her wings ! ' ' Shouted he from his post in the engineer's room, Driving onward perchance to a terrible doom , This man they call Johnny Bartholomew Firm grasping the bell-rope and holding his breath, On, on through the Vale of the Shadow of Death, On, on through that horrible cavern of hell, Through flames that arose and through timbers that fell, Through the eddying smoke and the serpents of fire That writhed and that hissed in their anguish and ire, With a rnsh and a roar like a wild tempest's blast, To the free air beyond them in safety they passed ! While the clang of the bell and the steam pipe's shrill jell, Told the joy at escape from that underground hell Of the man they called Johnny Bartholomew. Did the passengers get up a service of plate ? Did some oily-tongued orator at the man prate r Women kiss him ? Young children cling fast to his knees? Stout men in their rapture his brown fingers squecacJ And where was he born ? Is he handsome ? Has he A wife for his bosom, a child for his knee ? Is he young? Is he old ? Is he tall ? Is ha short? Well, ladies the journals tell naught of the sort, And all that they give us about him to-day, After telling the tale in a commonplace way, Is the man's name is Johnny Bartholomew. THOMAS DUNN ENGWSH James Fitz- James and Ellen, FOOTSTEP struck her ear, And Snowdoun's graceful Knight w* She turned the hastier, lest again The prisoner should renew his strain. *' O welcome, brave Fitz James !" she said ; How may an almost orphan maid Pay the deep debt" "O, say not so ! To me no gratitude you owe. Not mine, alas ! the boon to give, And bid thy noble father live ; I can but be thy guide, sweet maid, With Scotland's King thy suit to aid. No tyrant he, though ire and pride May lead his better mood aside. Come, Ellen, come ; 't is more than time, He holds his court at morning prime." With beating heart and bosom wrung, As to a brother's arm she clung, Gently he dried the falling tear, And gently whispered hope and cheer ; Her faltering steps half led, half stayed. Through gallery fair and high arcade, Till, at his touch, its wings of pride A portal arch unfolded wide. Within 't was brilliant all and light, A thronging scene of figures bright ; It glowed on Ellen's dazzled sight, As when the setting sun has given Ten thousand hues to summer eve And from their tissue fancy frames Aerial knights and fairy dames. Still by Fitz-James her footing stayed ; A few faint steps she forward made, Then slow her drooping head she raised, And fearful round the presence gazed : For him she sought who owned this state, The dreaded prince whose will was fate I She gazed on many a princely port Might well have ruled a royal court ; On many a splendid garb she gazed Then turned bewildered and amazed, For all stood bare ; and in the room Fitz-James alone wore cap and plume. nen.. CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. 651 To him each lady's Jook was lent, On him each courtier's eye was bent, Midst furs and silks aud jewels sheen He stood, in simple Lincoln green, The centre of the glittering ring And Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's King ! As wreath of snow, on mountain breast, Slides from the rock that gave it rest, Poor Ellen glided from her stay, And at the Monarch's feet she lay ; No word her choking voice commands : She showed the ring, she clasped her hands. 0, not a moment could he brook, The generous prince, that suppliant look ! Gently he raised her, and the while Checked with a glance the circle's smile; Graceful, but grave, her brow he kissed, And bade her terrors be dismissed : 1 Yes, fair ; the wandering poor Fitz-James The fealty of Scotland claims. To him thy woes, thy wishes bring ; He will redeem his signet-ring. Ask naught for Douglas ; yester even His prince and he have much forgiven ; Wrong hath he had from slanderous tongue, 1, from his rebel kinsman, wrong. We would not to the vulgar crowd Yield what they craved with clamor loud ; Calmly we heard and judged his cause, Our council aided and our laws. I stanched thy father's death-feud stern, With stout De Vaux and gray Gleucairn ; And Bothwell's Lord henceforth we own The frieud and bulwark of our throne. But, lovely infidel, how now ? What clouds thy misbelieving brow ? Lord James of Douglas, lend thine aid ; Tho must confirm this doubting maid." Then forth the noble Douglas sprung, And on his neck his daughter hung. The monarch drank, that happy hour, The sweetest, holiest draught of power- When it can say, the godlike voice, Arise, sad virtue, and rejoice ! Yet would not James the general eye On nature's raptures long should pry : He stepped between-" Nay, Douglas, nay, Steal not my proselyte away ! The riddle 't is my right to read, That brought this happy chance to speed. Yes, Ellen, when disguised I stray In life's more low, but happier way, T is under name which veils my power, Nor falsely veils, for Stirling's tower Of yore the name of Snowdoun claims, And Normans call me James Fitz-James. Thus watch I o'er insulted laws, Thus learn to right the injured cause." Then, in a tone apart and low, " Ah, little trait'ress ! none must know What idle dream, what lighter thought, What vanity full dearly bought, Joined to thine eye's dark witchcraft, drew My spell-bound steps to Benvenue, In dangerous hour, and all but gave Thy monarch's life to mountain glaive !'* Aloud he spoke "Thou still dost hold That little talisman of gold, Pledge of my faith, Fitz-James's ring : What seeks fair Ellen of the King ?" Full well the conscious maiden guessed He probed the weakness of her breast ; But with that consciousness there came A lightening of her fears for Graeme, And more she deemed the monarch's ire Kindled 'gainst him, who, for her sire, Rebellious broadsword boldly drew ; And, to her generous feeling true, She craved the grace of Roderick Dhu. " Forbear thy suit ; the King of kings Alone can stay life's parting wings. I know his heart, I know his hand, Have shared his cheer, and proved his braadL My fairest earldom would I give To bid Clan-Alpine's chieftain live ! Hast thou no other boon to crave ? No other captive friend to save?" Blushing, she turned her from the king, And to the Douglas gave the ring, As if she wished her sire to speak The suit that stained her glowing cheek. " Nay, then, my pledge has lost its force, And stubborn justice holds her course. Malcolm, come forth!" And, at the word Down knelt the Graeme to Scotland's lord, " For thee, rash youth,, no suppliant sues, From thee may vengeance claim her dues,. Who, nurtured underneath our smile, Hast paid our care by treacherous wile. And sought, amid thy faithful clan, A refuge for an outlawed man, Dishonoring thus thy royal name Fetters and warder for the Graeme !'* His chains of gold the king unstrung, The links o'er Malcolm's neck he flung; Then gently drew the glittering band, And laid the clasp on Ellen's hand. SIR WAT.TSR Score. 652 Observations of Rev. Oabe Tucker. U may notch it on de palin's as a mighty resky plan To make your judgment by the clo'es dat kivers up a man ; For I hardly needs to tell you how you often come er- cross A fifty-dollar saddle on a twenty-dollar hoss. An, ' wnkin ' in de low-groun's, you diskiver, as you go. Dat the fines' shuck may hide de meanes ' nubbin in a row! I think a man has got a mighty slender chance for heben Dat holds on to his piety Out one day out o' seben ; Dat talks about de sinners wid a heap o' solemn chat, An' nebber draps a nickel in de missionary hat ; Dat's foremost in the meetin'-house for raisin all de chunes, But lays aside his 'ligion wid his Sunday pantaloons ! I nebber judge o' people dat I meets along the way By de places whar dey come fum an' de houses whar dey stay ; For de bantam chicken's awful fond o' roostin pretty high, An' de turkey-buzzard sails above de eagle in de sky ; Dey ketches little minners in the middle ob de sea, An' you finds de smalles' 'possum up de bigges' kind CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. The Funeral. I o'tree I J. A. MACON. The Three Dearest Words. [ERE are three words that sweetly blend, That on the heart are graven ; A precious, soothing balm they lend They're mother, home and heaven ! They twine a wreath of beauteous flowers, Which, placed on memory's urn, Will e'en the longest, gloomiest hours To golden sunlight turn ! They form a chain whose every link Is free from base alloy ; A stream where whosoever drinks Will find refreshing joy ! tfhey build an altar where each day Love's offering is renewed ; And peace illumes with genial ray Life's darkened solitude ! If from our side the first nas fled, And home be but a name, X here. Don't pile up too much your sorrows on deir little- mental shelves, So's to kind o' set 'tn wonderiu' if dey're no account demselves? CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY, 053 *'Just you think, you poor deah mounahs, creepin' 'long o'er sorrow's way, What a blessed little picnic dis yere baby's got to-day I Your good faders and good moders crowd de little fel low round In de angel-tended garden of de Big Plantation Ground. ' An' dey ask him, " 'Was your feet sore?' an' take off his little shoes. An' dey wash him, and dey kiss him, and dey say, ' Now, what's de news ? ' An' de Lawd done cut his tongue loose, den de little fellow say : * All our folks down in de valley tries to keep de heb- enly way.' " An' his eyes dey brightly sparkle at de pretty things he view ; Den a tear come, and he whisper : ' But I want my paryents too ! ' But de Angel Chief Musician teach dat boy a little song; Says, 'If only dey be faithful, dey will soon be comin' 'long.' "An' he'll get an education dat will proberly be worth Seberal times as much as any you could buy for him on earth; He'll be in de Lawd's big school-house, widout no contempt or fear, While dere's no end to de bad tings might have hap pened to him here. " So, my pooah dejected mounahs, let your hearts wid Jesus rest, An' don't go to critersizin' dat ar One wot knows the best I He have sent us many comforts He have right to take away To the lyawd be praise an' glory, now and ever! Let us pray." Wiw. M. CARLETON. Shacob's Lament. tXCOOSE me if I shed some tears, Und wipe my nose away ; Und if a lump vos in my troat, It comes up dere to shtay. My sadness I shall now unfoldt, Und if dot tale of woe Don'd do some Dutchmans any good. Den I don't pelief I know. You see, I fall myself in love, Und effery night I goes Across to Brooklyn by dot pridge, All dressed in Sunday clothes. A vidder vomans vos der brize. Her husband he vos dead ; Und all alone in this coldt vorldt Dot vidder vos, she said. Her heart for love vos on der pinfit, Und dot I like to see ; Und all der time I hoped dot heart Vos on der pine for me. I keeps a butcher shop, you know; Und in a stocking stout, I put avay my gold and bills, Und no one gets him oudt. If in der night some bank cashier Goes skipping off mit cash, I shleep so sound as nefer vos, Vhile rich folks go to shmash. I court dot vidder sixteen mouths. Dot vidder she courts me, Und vhen I says : " Vill you be mine? 1 She says : " You bet I'll be ! " Ve vos engaged oh ! blessed fact ! I squeeze dot dimpled hand ; Her head upon my shoulder lays, Shust like a bag of sand. " Before der vedding day vos set,'* She vispers in min ear, " I like to say I haf to use Some cash, my Jacob, dear. " I owns dis house and two big farms, Und ponds und railroad stock ; Und up in Yonkers I bossess A grand big peesness block. " Der times vos dull, my butcher boy, Der market vos no good, Und if I sell " I squeezed her handt To show I understood. Next day oxcoose my briny tears Dot shtocking took a shrink ; I counted out twelve hundred in Der cleanest kind o' chink. Und later, by two days or more. Dot vidder shlopes avay ; Und leaves a note behindt for m In vhich dot vidder say : " DEAR SHAKE : Der rose vos redt, Der violet blue You see I've left, Und you're left, toe * " CHARUCS P. 6 54 CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. The Drummer Boy. AN INCIDENT OF THE CRIMEAN WAR. APTAIN GRAHAM, the men were say in' Ye would want a drummer lad, So I've brought my boy Sandie, Tho' my heart is woeful sad ; But nae bread is left to feed us, And no siller to buy more, For the gudeman sleeps forever, Where the heather blossoms o'er. 14 Sandie, make your manners quickly, Play your blithest measure true Give us ' Flowers of Edinboro', While yon fifer plays it too. Captain, heard ye e'er a player Strike in truer time than he?" " Nay, in truth, brave Sandie Murray Drummer of our corps shall be." " I give ye thanks but, Captain, maybe Ye will hae a kindly care For the friendless, lonely laddie, When the battle wark is sair : For Sandie's aye been good and gentle, And I've nothing else to love, Nothing but the grave off yonder, And the Father up above." Then, her rough hand gently laying On the curl-encircled head, She blessed her boy. The tent was silent. And not another woid was said ; For Captain Graham was sadly dreaming Of a benison, long ago, Breathed above his head, then golden, Bending now, and touched with snow. J Good-bye, Sandie. " " Good-bye, mother, I'll come back some summer day ; Don't you fear they don't shoot drummers Ever. Do they, Captain Gra ? One more kiss watch for me, mother, You will know 'tis surely me Coming home for you will hear me Playing soft the reveille." After battle. Moonbeams ghastly Seemed to link in strange affright, As the scudding clouds before them Shadowed faces dead and white ; And the night-wind softly whispered, When low moans its light wing bore Moans that ferried spirits over Death's dark wave to yotider shore. Wandering where a footstep careleu Might go splashing down in blood Or a helpless hand lie grasping Death and daisies from the sod Captain Graham walked swift onward, While a faintly-beaten drum Quickened heart and step together : " Sandie Murray ! See, I come I *' Is it thus I find you, laddie ? Wounded, lonely, lying here, Playing thus the reveille ? See the morning is not near." A moment paused the drummer boy, And lifted up his drooping head : " Oh, Captain Graham, the light is coming, 'Tis morning, and my prayers are said. 44 Morning ! See, the plains grow brighto^ Morning and I'm going home ; That is why I play the measure, Mother will not see me come ; But you'll tell her, won't you, Captain " Hush, the boy has spoken true ; To him the day has dawned forever, Unbroken by the night's tattoo. Help One Another. ELP one another," the snow flakes said, As they cuddled down in their fleecy be^? ' ' One of us here would not be felt, One of us here would quickly melt, But I'll help you, and you help me, And then what a big white drift we'll see.** Help one another," the maple spray Said to its fellow leaves one day ; 44 The sun would wither me here alone, Long enough ere the day is gone, But I'll help you, and you help me, And then what a splendid shade there'll be." 4< Help one another," the dew drop cried, Seeing another drop close to its side ; "This warm south breeze would dry me away And I should be gone ere noon to-day, But I'll help yon, and you help me, And we'll make a brook and run to the sea.*" 44 Help one another," a grain of sand Said to another grain just at hand ; 44 The wind may carry me over the sea, And then, oh, what will become of me ? But come, my brother, give me your hand, We'll build a mountain and there we'll Btnai * :HOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. 655 one another," a penny said To a fellow penny, round and red ; ** Nobody cares for me alone, Nobody '11 care when I am gone, But we'll stick together, and grow in time To a nickel, or even a silver dime." "Help one another," I hear the dimes Whisper beneath the Christmas chimes ; "We're only little folks, but you know Little folks sometimes make a show, Ten of us, if we're good and pure, Equal a big round dollar, sure." And so the snow flakes grew to drifts, The grains of sand to mountains, The leaves became a pleasant shade, And dew drops fed the fountains ; The pennies grew to silver dimes, The dimes to dollars, brcclier ! And children bring this Christmas gift By helping one another. GEORGE E. HUNTING. Tom Darling. )M Darling was a darling Tom* (Excuse all vulgar puns ;) A type of California's bright Rising and setting suns. His father was an austere man An oyster man was he, Who opened life by opening The shell fish of the sea ; But hearing of a richer clime, He took his only son, And came where golden minds are lost, While golden mines are won. They hoped to fill their pockets from Rich pockets in the ground ; And 'midst the boulders of the hills, None bolder could be found. For though a mining minor, Tom Was never known to shirk ; Ana while with zeal he worked his claim, His father claimed his work. Time's record on his brow now show*d A fair and spotless page ; And, as his age became him well, He soon became of age. Thinking that he was up to all The California tricks, He now resolved to pick his way Without the aid of picks. In less than eighteen circling moons Two fortunes he had made ; One by good luck at trade in stock, And one by stock in trade. With health and wealth he now could Ifor Upon the easy plan ; While everybody said, of course, He was a fine young man. But Thomas fell, and sadly too, Who of his friends would 'thought it He ran for office, and alas ! For him and his he caught it. Mixing no more with sober men, He found his morals fleeing ; And being of a jovial turn, He turned a jovial being. With governor and constable His cash he freely spends ; From constable to governor, He bad a host of friends. But soon he found he could not take, As his old father would, A little spirits, just enough To do his spirits good. In councils with the patriots Upon affairs of State, Setting no bars to drinking, he Soon lost his upright gait. His brandy straightway made him walk In very crooked ways ; While lager beer brought to his view A bier and span of grays. The nips kept nipping at his purse- (Two bits for every dram), While clear champagne produced ir A pain that was no sham. His cups of wine were followed by The doctor's painful cup ; Each morning found him getting lav As he was getting up. Thus uselessly, and feebly did His short existence flit, Till in a drunken fight he fell Into a drunken fit. The doctors came, but here their skfl) They found of no avail ; They all agreed what ailed poor Tom Was politics and ale. L. F. CHOICE SELECTIONS OF POETRY. Lightens Labor. GOOD wife rose from her bed one morn, And thought with a nervous dread Of the piles of clothes to be washed, and mote Than a dozen mouths to be fed. "There's the meals to get for the men in the field, And the children to fix away To school, and the milk to be skimmed and churned; And all to be done this day. It h&d rained in the night, and all the wood Was wet as v. could be ; There were puddings and pies to bake, besides A loaf of cake for tea. And the day was hot, and her aching head Throbbed wearily as she said, "If maidens but knew what good wives know, They would not be in haste to wed ! " "Jennie, what do you think I told Ben Brown?" Called the farmer from the well ; And a flush crept up to his bronzed brow, And his eyes half bashfully fell ; * It was this," he said, and coming near He smiled, and stooping down, Kissed her cheek " 'twas this, that you were the best And the dearest wife in town ! " The farmer went back to the field and the wife In a smiling, absent way Sang snatches of tender little songs She'd not sung for many a day. And the pain in her head was gone, and the clothes Were white as the foam of the sea ; Her bread was light, and her butter was sweet, And as golden as it could be. "Just think," the < hildren all called in a breath, " Tom Wood has run off to sea ! He wouldn't, I know, if he'd only had As liappy a home as we." The night came down, and the good wife smiled To herself, as she softly said : ** 'Tis so sweet to labor for those we love, "It's not strange that maids will wed I" The Soft Guitar. SCENE : Moonlight. Beneath the lady's window appeareth the , andeingeth, with guitar accompaniment. LOVER. ^PEN thy lattice, O lady bright ! The earth lies calm in the fair moonlight ; Gaze on the glint of each glancing star, And list to the notes of my soft guitar. At the lady's window a vision shone Twas the hidy's head with a night-cap on. LOVER. (In ecstasy.} See ! at the casement appearing now, With lily fingers she hides her brow. Oh, weep not though bitter thy sorrows are, I will soothe them to rest with my soft guitar. Then the lady answered, " Who's going to weep? Go 'vray with your fiddle, and let me sleep." LOVER. (Saddened, but still hopeful.) Then sleep, dear lady : thy fringed lids close, Pinions of cherubim fan thy repose, While through thy casement, slightly ajar, Steal the sweet notes of my soft guitar. Then the lady her " secret pain " confessed With the plaintive murmur, "Oh, give us a rest? LOVER. (Slightly discouraged.) Chiue me not harshly, O lady fair ! Bend from thy lattice, and hear my prayer. Sighing for thee, I wander afar, Mournfully touching my soft guitar. And the lady answered : "You stupid thing, If you've got the catarrh, stop trying to sing! '* LOVER. (Filled with natural and righteous indignation*] Cruel but fair one, thy scorn restrain I Better death's quiet than thy disdain. I go to fall in some distant war, Bearing in battle my loved guitar. Answered the lady : " Well, hurry and go! I'm holding the slop-basin ready to throw.'* LOVER. (Making immediate preparations to deport.) False one, I leave thee ! When I'm at rest Still shall my memory haunt thy breast ; A spectral vision thy joy shall mar A skeleton playing a soft guitar 1 And the lady cried, in a scornful tone, " Old skeleton, go it and play it alone / " Then the lover in agony roamed afar- Fell drunk in the gutter, and smashed his guitar. P. H. Bowwt. OF ANCIENT AND MODERN ELOQUENCE. * T the revival of letters in modern Europe, Eloquence, together with her sister muses, awoke, Mid shook the poppies from her brow. But their torpors still tingled ID her veins. In the interval her Yoice was gone; her favorite languages were extinct; her organs were no longer attuned to har mony, and her hearers could no longer understand her speech. The discord ant jargon of feudal anarchy "bad banished the musical dialects, in which she had always delighted. The theatres of her former triumph were either deserted, or they were filled with the dabblers of sophistry and chicane. She shrunk intuitively from the former, for the last object she remembered to have seen there was the head of her darling Cicero planted upon the rostrum. She ascended the tribunals of justice ; there she found her child, Persuasion, manacled and pinioned by the letter of the law ; there she beheld an image of herself, stammering in barbarous Latin, and staggering under the lumber of a thousand volumes. Her heart fainted within her. She lost all confidence in herself. Together with all her irresistible powers, she lost pro- portionably the consideration of the world, until, instead of comprising the whole system of public education, she found herself excluded from the circle of science, and declared an outlaw from the realms of learning. She was not however doomed to eternal silence. With the progress of freedom and of liberal science, in various parts of modern Europe, she obtained access to mingle in the deliberations of her parliaments. With labor and difficulty she learned their languages, and lent her aid in giving them form and polish. But she has never recovered the graces of her former beauty, nor the energies of her ancient vigor. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. WHAT !S A MINORITY? *7^7T*HAT is a minority? The chosen heroes of V X / *^ eart k have been in a minority. There \t at is not a social, political, or religious privi lege that you enjoy to-day that was not bought for you by the blood and tears and patient Buffering of the minority. It is the minority that have vindicated humanity in every struggle. It is a mi- 42 nority that have stood in the van of every moral con flict, and achieved all that is noble in the history of the world. You will find that each generation has been always busy in gathering up the scattered ashes of the martyred heroes of the past, to deposit them in the golden urn of a nation's history. Look at Scotland, where they are erecting monuments to whom? to the Covenanters. Ah, they were in a minority, liead their history, if you can, without the blood tingling to the tips of your fingers. These were in the minority, that, through blood, and tears, and bootings and scourgings dying the waters with their blood, and staining the heather with their gore fought the glorious battle of religious freedom. Minority ! if a man stands up for the right, though the right be on the scaffold, while the wrong sits in the seat of government ; if he stands for the right, though he eat, with the right and truth, a wretched crust ; if he walk with obloquy and scorn in the by-lanes and streets, while the falsehood and wrong ruffle it in silken attire, let him remember that wherever the right and truth are there are always " Troops of beautiful, tall angels " gathered round him, and God Himself stands within the dim future, and keeps watch over his own ! If a matt stands for the right and the truth, though every man's finger be pointed at him, though every woman's lip be curled at him in scorn, he stands in a majority ; for God and good angels are with him, and greater are they that are for him than all they that be against him. JOHN B. GOVOH. WASHINGTON'S COUNTRY. Delivered at the centennial celebration of Washington's iaaognratfoa, New York, April 30, 1889. LOT out from the page of history the names of all the great actors of his time in the drama of nations, and preserve the name of Wash ington, and the century would be renowned. We stand to-day upon the dividing line between the first and second century of constitutional government There are no clouds overhead and no convulsions under our feet We reverently return thanks to Almighty God for the past, and with confident and hopeful promise march upon sure ground toward the future. The simple facts of these hundred years paralyze the imagination, and we contemplate the vast accumula tions of the century with awe and pride. Our popu lation has grown from four to sixty-five millions. Itt 657 MASTERPIECES OF ELOQUENCE. centre, moving westward five hundred mile* since 1789, is eloquent with the founding of cities and the birth of States. New settlements clearing the forests and subduing the prairies and adding four millions to the few thousands of farms which were the support of Washington's republic, create one of the great grana ries of the world and open ezhaustless reservoirs of national wealth. The flower of the youth of the nations of continental [Europe are conscripted from productive industries and drilling in camps. Vast armies stand in battle array along the frontiers, and a Kaiser's whim or a minister's mistake may precipitate the most destructive war of modern times. Both monarchial and republican gov ernments are seeking safety in the repression and suppression of opposition and criticism. The volcanic forces of democratic aspiration and socialistic revolt are rapidly increasing and threaten peace and security. We turn from these gathering storms to the British Isles and find their people in the throes of a political crisis involving the form and substance of their gov ernment, and their statesmen far from confident that the enfranchised and unprepared masses will wisely use their power. But for us no army exhausts our resources nor con sumes our youth. Our navy must needs increase in order that the protecting flag may follow the expanding commerce, which is to successfully compete in all the markets of the world. The sun of our destiny h still rising, and its rays illuminate vast territories fcs yet unoccupied and undeveloped, and which are t forlorn hope, freighted with the prospects of a future state, and bound across the un known sea. I behold it pursuing, with a thousand misgivings, the uncertain, the tedious voyage. Suns rise and set, and weeks and months pass, and winter surprises them on the deep, but brings them not the sight of the wished-for shore. I see them now, scantily supplied with provisions, crowded almost to suffocation in their ill-stored prison, delayed by calms, pursuing a circuitous route ; and now, driven in fury before the raging tempest, in their scarcely seaworthy vessel. The awful voice of the storm howls through the rigging. The laboring masts seem straining from their base ; the dismal sound of pumps is heard ; the ship leaps, as it were, madly from billow to billow ; the ocean breaks, and settles with ingulfing floods over the floating deck, and beats with deadening weight against the staggering vessel I see them escape from these perils, pursuing their all but desperate undertaking, and landed at last, after a five months' passage, on the ioe-clad rocks of Plym outh, weak and exhausted from the voyage, poorly armed, scantily provisioned, depending on the charity of their ship-master for a draught of beer on board, drinking nothing but water on shore, without shelter, without means, surrounded by hostile tribes. Shut now the volume of history, and tell me, on any MASTERPIECES OF ELOQUENCE. principle of human probability, what shall be the fate of this handful of adventurers? Tell me, men of military science, in how many months they were all swept off by the thirty savage tribes enumerated within the boundaries of New England? Tell me, politician, how long did this shadow of a colony, on which your conventions and treaties had not smiled, languish on the distant coast? Student of history, compare for me the baffled projects, the deserted settlements, the abandoned adventures of other times, and find the parallel of this ! Was it the winter storm, beating upon the houseless heads of women and children? was it hard labor and spare meals? was it disease? was it the tomahawk? was it the deep malady of a blighted hope, a ruined enterprise, and a broken heart, aching in its last moments at the recol lections of the loved and left, beyond the sea ? was it some or all of them united that hurried this forsaken company to their melancholy fate ? And is it pos sible, that neither of these causes, that all combined, were able to blast this bud of hope ! Is it possible, that from a beginning so feeble, so frail, so worthy, not so touch of admiration as of pity, there has gone forth a progress so steady, a growth so wonderful, a reality H> important, a promise yet to be fulfilled so glorious ! HOWARD KVBKJETT. GENOA IN HER BEAUTY. ]T me bring to your mind Genoa, called the Superb City of Palaces, dear to the memory of American childhood as the birthplace of Christopher Columbus, and one of the spots first enlightened by the morning beams of civilization, whose merchants were princes, and whose rich argosies, in those early days, introduced to Europe the choicest products of the East, the linen of Egypt, the spices of Arabia, and the silks of Samarcand. She still sits in queenly pride, as she sat then her mural crown tudded with towers her churches rich with marble floors and rarest pictures her palaces of ancient doges and admirals yet spared by the hand of time her dose streets, thronged by one hundred thousand in habitants at the foot of the maritime Alps, as they descend to the blue and tideless waters of the Mediterranean Sea leaning with her back against their strong mountain-sides, overshadowed by the foliage of the fig-tree and the olive, while the orange and lemon fill with their perfume the air where reigns perpetual spring. Who can contemplate such a city without delight? CHART.KS STTMNKB. EFFECT OF STEADINESS OF PURSUIT. YTTIUS most interesting instance of the efficacy of \ I L this steadiness of pursuit was given by the JL city of Athens ; the most interesting, because the object was most so. From the earliest tunes, Atheua aspired to literature and the elegant arts. By a steady pursuit of the policy adopted with a view to this end, the city of Athens became such a monument of the arts, that even her imperfect and dilapidated remains are at this day the wonder of the world. What splendors, then, must she have emitted in the day of her splendor ! When, in her freshness, she met the morning sun, and reflected back a rival glory ! When she was full of the masterpieces of genius in every art creations, that were said to have exalted in the human mind the ideas of the divinities themselves ! The fervid eloquence of Demosthenes failed, unequal to the task, to do justice to those im mortal splendors, when employed, as it occasionally was, for that purpose, in his addresses to the Athenian people. It was by the steady pursuit of the same policy, that their literary works of every kind came to be equally the masterpieces of human genius j and be ing more diffused, and less impaired by the injuries of time, than the other monuments of the arts, they were, and still are, the wonder of the world, that, after it, the Athenians themselves could never surpass them ; whilst others have never been able to equal them. Now, what has been the effect? Literature and arts have gathered around that city a charm that was, and is, felt by all mankind ; which no distance, no time, can dispel. No scholar, of any age or clime, but has made (in fancy, at least) a pilgrimage to ita shore; there to call around him the shades of the mighty dead, whose minds still live, and delight and astonish in their immortal works. It is emphatically the city of the heart, where the affections delight to dwell ; the green spot of the earth where the fancy loves to linger. How poor is brute force even the most magnificent, even the Roman compared to the empire of mind, to which all other minds pay their voluntary homage ! Her literature and her arts acquired to Athens this empire, which her remains still preserve, and always will preserve. In contemplating the phenomenon of her literary achievements, a great and profound writer could not forbear saying, "that it seemed a providential event, in honor of human nature, to show to what perfection the species might ascend." Call it providential if you please as every event is, in some sense, providential but it was the effect of artificial causes, as much so as the military power of the Romans ; it was the effect of a policy, early ad^ted, and always after steadily pursued. ASHER BOBBIHS. INDEMNITY TO THE NIAGARA SUFFERERS. T @ET me say to the gentleman, that in Buffalo, he V might, on one day, have found a family well JLoA housed, well clothed, surrounded with every comfort of life, who, from its hospitality in throwing open its dors to the American soldier, was the next day houseless and homeless, destitute of all things ; if he had chced, eight months afterwards, to 664 MASTERPIECES OF ELOQUENCE. be wandering on the flats of the Ohio, he might there see a family scarcely covered by a wretched house, in squalid poverty, one day shivering with ague, and the next consumed with raging fever ; if his compassion should lead him to enter and inquire into their situa tion, he would hear them say, our father lived in plenty and comfort, on the Niagara frontier he saw the American soldiery ready to perish he opened his door to take them in and for that we are here, ruined and in wretchedness. Sir, the sufferings of the French, on their retreat from Moscow, present not too strong a picture to convey a just idea of what was endured while the whole country on the Lakes was converted into one wide cantonment. Had the gentle man seen an American regiment on that frontier drawn up on a frosty morning, and supporting arms while their limbs were chilled to the bone, standing, in their cotton dress, in snow two and three feet deep ; had he seen these claimants opening their houses to receive men in immediate danger of perishing (many of them did perish), and afterwards turned out of house and home for doing it, he would not, he could not, deny that something ought to be done for their relief. The gentleman has insinuated, that the inhabitants of the frontier are actuated wholly by a principle of selfishness ; that, unless stimulated by a sense of interest, they will do nothing in their own defence, and will surrender up their property an easy prey to the enemy. But, sir, that gentleman surely did not consider the feelings of the American people when he advanced such a sentiment. If nothing had operated on their minds but selfishness, the army of the frontier oould not have been kept together a single day. No, air, not a single day. There were our soldiers, lying naked and perishing on one bank of the Niagara river, while, directly opposite, they could see the British sentry parading backward and forward in a good com fortable watchcoat, and hear him cry out, cheerfully, " all's well." They had only to cross en masse to the British side, to exchange a lodging on the ground, in their cotton that admitted the rain, and, when the rain was over, froze upon their bodies, for warm clothing and good quarters. Had selfishness been the ruling principle, where would have been your militia? Where would have been your regulars ? at their own homes, or over the British lines? JOSEPH VAXGK BULOGIUM ON SOUTH CAROLINA. Tk reader will feel a special interest in this and the following selec tion from the famous debate between Hayne and Webster. Perhaps no neb. intellectual gladiators ever met before or since on the floor of the United States Senate. I GALL upon any one who hears me, to bear wit ness that this controversy is not of my seeking. The Senate will do me the justice to remember, that at the time this unprovoked and uncalled-for attack was made upon the South, not one word bad been uttered by me in disparagement of New England, nor had I made the most distant allucion either to the Senator from Massachusetts, or the State he represents > But, sir, that gentleman has thought proper, for reasons best known to himself, to strike the South, through one, the most unworthy of her servants. He has crossed the border, he has invaded the State of South Carolina, is making war upon her citizens, and endeavoring to overthrow her principles and her institutions. Sir, when the gentleman provokes me tc such a conflict, I meet him at the threshold, I will struggle while I have life, for our altars and our fire sides ; and if God give me strength, will drive back the invader discomfited. Nor shall I stop there. If the gentleman provoke war, he shall have war. Sir, I will not stop at the border ; I will carry the war into the enemies' territory and not consent to lay down my arms, until I shall have obtained " indemnity for the past, and security for the future." It is with unfeigned reluctance that I enter upon the performance of this part of my duty I shrink almost instinctively from a course, however necessary, which may have a tendency to excite sectional feelings and sectional jealousies. But, sir, the task has been forced upon me, and I proceed right onward to a performance of my duty. Be the consequences what they may, the responsibility is with those who have imposed upon me this necessity. The Senator from Massachusetts has thought proper to cast the first stone, and if he shall find, according to the homely adage, that "he lives in a glass house " on his head be the conse quences. The gentleman has made a great flourish about his fidelity to Massachusetts. I shall make no professions of zeal, for the interests and honor of South Carolina of that my constituents shall judge. If there be one State in the Union (and I say it not in any boastful spirit), that may challenge comparison with any other for a uniform, zealous, ardent and uncalculating devotion to the Union, that State ic South Carolina. Sir, from the very commencement of the Revolution up to this hour, there is no sacrifice, however great, she has not cheerfully made ; no service she has ever hesitated to perform. She has adhered to you in your prosperity, but in your adversity she has clung to you with more than filial affection. No matter what was the condition of her domestic affairs, though deprived of her resources, divided by parties, or surrounded by difficulties, the call of the country has been to her as the voice of God. Domestic dis cord has ceased at the sound every man became at once reconciled to his brethren, and the sons of Caro lina were all seen crowding together to the temple, bringing their gifts to the altar of their common country. What, sir, was the conduct of the South during the Revolution ? Sir, I honor New England for her con duct in that glorious struggle : but great as is the praise which belongs to her, I think at least equal honor is due to the South. They espoused the cause of their brethren with generous real which did not MASTERPIECES OF ELOQUENCE. 665 gaffer them to stop to calculate their interest in the dispute. Favorites of the mother country, possessed of neither ships nor seamen to create commercial rival- ship ; they might have found in their situation a guar anty that their trade would be forever fostered and pro tected by Great Britain. But trampling on all considera tions, either of interest or of safety, they rushed into the conflict, and fighting for principle, periled all in the gacred cause of freedom. Never was there exhibited in the history of the world higher examples of noble daring, dreadful suffering, and heroic endurance, than by the Whigs of Carolina during that revolution. The whole State, from the mountain to the sea, was overrun by an overwhelming force of the enemy. The fruits of industry perished on the spot where they were produced, or were consumed by the foe. The "plains of Carolina" drank up the most precious Wood of her citizens black and smoking ruins marked the places which had been the habitations of her children ! Driven from their homes into the gloomy and almost impenetrable swamps, even there the spirit of liberty survived, and South Carolina, sustained by the example of her Sumters and her Marions, proved by her conduct, that though her soil might be over ran, the spirit of her people was invincible. ROBERT Y. HAYNE. SOUTH CAROLINA AND MASSACHUSETTS. eulogium pronounced on the character of the State of South Carolina by the honorable gentleman, for her revolutionary and other merits, meets my hearty concurrence. I shall not acknowledge that the honorable member goes be fore me in regard for whatever of distinguished talent, or distinguished character, South Carolina has pro duced. I claim part of the honor ; I partake in the pride of her great names. I claim them for country men, one and all. The Laurenses, Rutledges, the Pinckneys, the Sumters, the Marions Americans all whose fame is no more to be hemmed in by state lines, than their talents and patriotism were capable of being circumscribed within the same narrow limits. In their day and generation, they served and honored the country, and the whole country, and their renown is of the treasures of the whole country. Him whose honored name the gentleman bears himself does he suppose me less capable of gratitude for his patriotism, or sympathy for his sufferings, than if his eyes had first opened upon the light in Massachusetts instead of South Carolina? Sir, does he suppose it in his power to exhibit a Carolina name so bright as to pro duce envy in my bosom ? No, sir increased gratifica tion and delight, rather. Sir, I thank God, that if I am gifted with little of the spirit which is said to be able to raise mortals to the skies, I have yet none, as I trust, of that other spirit which would drag angels down. When I shall be found, sir, in my place here in the Senate, or elsewhere, to tneer at public merit, because it happened to spring up beyond the limits of my ow* State and neighborhood ; when I refuse, for any such cause, or for any cause, the homage due to American talent, to elevated patriotism, to sincere devotion to liberty and the country ; or if I see an uncommon endowment of heaven if I see extraordinary capacity and virtue in any son of the South and if, moved by local prejudice, or gangrened by State jealousy, I get up here to abate the tithe of a hair from his just char acter and just fame, may my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth ! I shall enter on no encomium upon Massachusetts she needs none. There she is behold her and judge for yourselves. There is her history the world knows it by heart. The past, at least, is secure. There is Boston, and Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker's Hill ; and there they will remain forever. The bones of her sons, fallen in the great struggle for indepen dence, now lie mingled with the soil of every State, from New England to Georgia ; and there they will lie forever. And, sir, where American liberty raised its first voice, and where its youth was nurtured and sustained, there it still lives, in the strength of its manhood, and full of its original spirit. If discord and disunion shall wound it if party strife and blind ambition shall hawk at and tear it ; if folly and madness, if uneasiness, under salutary and necessary restraint, shall succeed to separate it from that Union, by which alone its ex istence is made sure, it will stand in the end, by the side of the cradle in which its infancy was rocked ; it will stretch forth its arm with whatever of vigor it may still retain, on the friends who gather around it ; an* 9 it will fall at last, if fall it must, amidst the proudest monuments of its own glory, and on the very spot of its origin. DANIEL WEBSTBH. REMEMBRANCE OP WRONGS. J E are above all this. Let the highland clansman, half naked, half civilized, half blinded by the peat smoke of his cavern, have his hereditary enemy and his heredi tary enmity, and keep the keen, deep, and poisonous hatred, set on fire of hell, alive if he can ; let the North American Indian have his, and hand it down from father to son, by heaven knows what symbols of alligators, and rattlesnakes, and war-clubs smeared with vermilion and entwined with scarlet ; let such a country as Poland, cloven to the earth, the armed heel on the radiant forehead, her body dead, her soul incapable to die, let her " remember the wrongs of days long past ; " let the lost and wandering tribes of Israel remember theirs the manliness or sympathy of the world may allow or pardon this to them ; but shall America, young, free, prosperous, just setting out on the highway of heaven, " decorating and cheer ing the elevated sphere she just begins to move in, glittering like the morning star, full of life and joy," MASTERPIECES OF ELOQUENCE. shall she be supposed to be polluting and corroding her noble and happy heart, by moping over old stories of stamp act, and tea tax, and the firing of the Leopard upon the Chesapeake in a time of peace? No, sir ; no, sir ; a thousand times no ! Why, I protest, I thought all that had been settled. I thought two wars had settled it all. What else was so much good blood shed for on so many more than classical fields of revolutionary glory ? For what was ao much good blood more lately shed at Lundy' s Lane, at Fort Erie, before and behind the lines at New Orleans, on the deck of the Constitution, on the deck of the Java, on the lakes, on the sea, but to settle exactly these " wrongs of past days ? ' ' And have we come back Bulky and sullen from the very field of honor ? For my country I deny it. We are born to happier feelings. We look on England as we look on France. We look on them, from our new world, not unrenowned, yet a new world still ; and the blood mounts to our cheeks ; our eyes swim ; our voices are stifled with emulousness of so much glory ; their trophies will not let us sleep ; but there is no hatred at all ; no hatred ; all for honor, nothing for hate! We have we can have no bar barian memory of wrongs, for which brave men have made the last expiation to the brave. RUFtTS CHOATK. LAST CHARGE OF NEY. E whole continental struggle exhibited no sublimer spectacle than this last effort of Napoleon to save his sinking empire. Europe had been put upon the plains of Waterloo to be battled for. The greatest military energy and skill the world possessed had been tasked to the utmost during the day. Thrones were tottering on the en sanguined field, and the shadows of fugitive kings flitted through the smoke of battle. Bonaparte's star trembled in the zenith now blazing out in its ancient splendor, now suddenly paling before his anxious eye. At length, when the Prussians appeared on the field, he resolved to stake Europe on one bold throw. He committed himself and France to Ney, and saw his Empire rest on a single chance. Ney felt the pressure of the immense responsibility on his brave heart, and resolved not to prove unworthy of the great trust committed to his care. Nothing could be more imposing than the movement of that grand column to the assault. That guard had never yet recoiled before a human foe, and the allied forces be held with awe its firm and terrible advance to the final charge. For a moment the batteries stopped playing, and the firing ceased along the British lines, as without the beating of a drum, or the blast of a bugle, to cheer their steady courage, they moved in dead silence over the plain. The next moment the artillery opened, and the head of that gallant column seemed to sink into the earth. Hank after rank went down, yet they neither stopped nor faltered. Dissolv ing squadrons, and whole battalions disappearing one after another in the destructive fire, affected no* their steady courage. The ranks closed up as before, and each treading over his fallen comrade, pressed firmly on. The horse that Ney rode fell under him, and he had scarcely mounted another before it also sunk to the earth. Again and again did that un flinching man feel his steed sink down, till five had been shot under him. Then, with his uniform riddled with bullets, and his face singed and blackened with powder, he marched on foot with drawn sabre, at the head of his men. Jn vain did the artillery hurl its storm of fire and lead into that living mass. Up to the very muzzles they pressed, and driving the artillerymen from their own pieces, pushed on through the English lines. But at that moment a file of soldiers who had lain flat on the ground, behind a low ridge of earth, suddenly rose and poured a volley in their very faces. Another and another followed till one broad sheet of flame rolled on their bosoms, and in such a fierce and unexpected flow, that human courage could not withstand it They reeled, shook, staggered back, then turned and fled. Ney was borne back in the refluent tide, and hurried over the field. But for the crowd of fugitives that forced him on, he would have stood alone, and fallen in his footsteps. As it was, disdaining to fly, though the whole army was flying, he formed his meu into two immense squares, and endeavored to stem the terrific current, and would have done so, had it not been for the thirty thousand fresh Prussians that pressed on his exhausted ranks. For a long time these squares stood and let the artillery plough through them. But the fate of Napoleon was writ, and though Ney doubtless did what no other man in the army could have done, the decree could not be reversed. The star that had blazed so brightly over the world went down in blood, and the "bravest of the brave " had fought his last battle. It was worthy of his great name, and the charge of the Old Guard at Waterloo, with him at their head, will be pointed to by remotest genera tions with a shudder. J. T. HKADLKY. JJZ' INVECTIVE OF JUNGARY. HE spirit of popular freedom in Europe, during the late struggle of Hungary, asked us a solemn question. The Executive was called upon to say yea or nay. Hungary listened with anxious hopes. She was impatient for the response, and the eloquence of truth, of a righteoin cause, burst forth in every word she uttered. But it has been all in vain, and now, in tones of eloquent and burning reproof, she thus turns to her Kussian invader. You seek to encompass the earth with your ambition The world exclaims against you, and reproachfully calls you sovereign of a barbarian horde. Asia speaks out : Your neighborhood has only served to bring upon my borders bloody and protracted wars. MASTERPIECES OF ELOQUENCE. Gb'T Persia : For a century yon have desolated my remote frontiers and provinces, with the horrors of a cruel warfare. Circassia asks : When will you cease to massacre my people, and grant me that liberty and independence which my victorious arms deserve? England reproves : I see you in the swift-coming future advancing to the banks of the Indus, and about to bring war upon my dominions in the East. Turkey adds : You have converted my cities into forts, and for centuries obliged me to watch your threatened descent upon my fair capital. France sends her legions to Italy, as she sees her influence about to be felt upon the banks of the Tiber. Poland yet cries beneath her fetters : When will you unbar the prison- door ? Europe chides : Upon the partition of Poland you claimed the lion's share, and claimed it too at the peace of Vienna. And now, you offer Siberia in exchange for fair Hungary. Yet, I was at peace with you. I sought freedom from Austrian tyranny, and you interfered to crown my misfortunes with your cruelties. You warred against my national existence. You drove my once happy people to flee for refuge to the mountains ; to abandon their hearths ; to forsake their altars ; to poison their waters, lest they might quench your thirst; to destroy their bread, lest they might feed you; to fire their own dwellings, lest they might shelter you. The work of destruction, which they had not time to complete, you finished. You wan tonly desolated their wheat-fields ; you tortured their patriot clergy, and inflicted even upon female patriot ism your proverbial cruelties. And now, from the unchanging snows of Siberia, may be heard the wails of unseen Poland, as she rises from her cenotaph, ejaculates the woes and sufferings you have in store for my children, and with a warning voice whispers, "fight on! fight on I" Such is the first invective of Hungary against her mediating oppressor. From this she now turns and appeals to the world. To us especially does she thus appeal for sympathy. "You were oppressed ; so were We. You declared and fought for independence, and triumphed upon the field of battle ; so did we. You have had the experience of nearly three gener ations, and will you now by silence and inactivity, manifest before the world a trembling distrust in the jmstice and wisdom of your principles ? In the days of your weakness the world sent you a Montgomery, a Kosciusko, and a La Fayette ; and now, in the days of your pride and strength, fear not to make some just return." A. w. BURL. MEANS OF HEALTH. ' EE how the means of sustenance and comfort are distributed and diversified throughout the earth. There is not a mood of body, from the wantonness of health to the languor of the death-bed, for which the wonderful alchemy of nature does not proffer some luxury to stimulate out pleasures ; or her pharmacy some catholicon to assuage our pains. What textures for clothing from the gossamer thread which the silk-worm weaves, to silk-like furs which the winds of Zembla cannot penetrate ! As the materials from which to construct our dwellings, what Quincys and New Hampshires of granite, what Alleghanies of oak, and what forests of pine, belting the continent ! What coal-fields to sup ply the lost warmth of the receding sun ! Nakedness, and famine, and pestilence are not inexorable ordinance* of nature. Nudity and rags are only human idleness or ignorance out on exhibition. The cholera is but the wrath of God against uncleanliness and intemperance. Famine is only a proof of individual misconduct, or of national misgovernment. In the woes of Ireland, God is proclaiming the wickedness of England, in tones as clear and articulate as those in which He spoke from Sinai ; and it needs no Hebraist to trans late the thunder. And if famine needs not to be, then other forms of destitution and misery need not to be. But amid the exuberance of this country, our dangers spring from abundance rather than from scarcity. Young men, especially young men in our cities, walk in the midst of allurements for the appetite. Hence, health is imperiled ; and so indispensable an element is health in all forms of human welfare, that whoever invigor ates his health has already obtained one of the greatest guarantees of mental superiority, of usefulness, and of virtue. Health, strength, longevity, depend upon immutable laws. There is no chance about them. There is no arbitrary interference of higher powers with them. Primarily, our parents, and secondarily, ourselves, are responsible for them. The providence of God is no more responsible, because the virulence of disease rises above the power of all therapeutics, or because one quarter part of the race die before com pleting the age of one year die before completing one seventieth part of the term of existence allotted to them by the Psalmist ; I say the providence of God is no more responsible for these things, than it is for picking pockets or stealing horses. HORACE MANN. SORROW FOR THE DEAD. ORROW for the dead is the only sorrow from which we refuse to be divorced. Every other wound we seek to heal : every other affliction to forget ; but this wound we consider our duty to keep open ; this affliction we cherish and brood over in solitude. Where is the mother that would willingly forget the infant that perished like a blossom from her arms, though every recollection is a pang ? Where is the child that would willingly forget the most tender of parents, though to remember be but to lament ? who, even in the hour of agony, would forget the friend over whom he mourns ? who, even when the tomb is closing upon the remains of her he most loved, 668 MASTERPIECES OF ELOQUENCE. and he feels his heart, as it were, crushed in the clos ing of its portal, would accept consolation that was to be bought by forgetfulness ? No, the love which sur vives the tomb is one of the noblest attributes of the Boul. If it has its woes, it has likewise its delights ; and when the overwhelming burst of grief is calmed into the gentle tear of recollection, when the sudden anguish and the convulsive agony over the present ruins of all that we most loved, is softened away into pensive meditation on all that it was in the days of its loveliness, who would root out such a sorrow from the heart ? Though it may sometimes throw a passing eloud even over the bright hour of gaiety, or spread a deeper sadness over the hour of gloom, yet who would exchange it even for the song of pleasure, or the burst of revelry? No; there is a voice from the tomb sweeter than song ; there is a recollection of the dead to which we turn even from the charms of the living. Oh, the grave ! the grave ! It buries every error ; covers every defect ; extinguishes every resentment. From its peaceful bosom spring none but fond regrets and tender recollections. Who can look down upon the grave even of an enemy, and not feel a compunc tious throb, that ever he should have warred with the poor handful of earth that lies mouldering before him ! The grave of those we loved what a place for medi tation ! There it is that we call up in long review the whole history of virtue and gentleness, and the thou sand endearments lavished upon us almost unheeded in the daily intercourse of intimacy ; there it is that we dwell upon the tenderness, the solemn, awful tender ness of the parting scene ; the bed of death with all its stifled griefs ; its noiseless attendants ; its mute, watchful assiduities ; the last testimonies of expiring love ; the feeble, faltering, thrilling (oh ! how thrill ing !) pressure of the hand ; the last fond look of the glazing eye, turning upon us even from the threshold of existence; the faint, faltering accents struggling in death to give one more assurance of affection ! Aye, go to the grave of buried love, and meditate ! There settle the account with thy conscience for every past benefit unrequited, every past endearment unregarded, of that being who can never, never, never return to be soothed by thy contrition ! If thou art a child, and hast ever added a sorrow to the soul, or a furrow to the silvered brow of an affec tionate parent ; if thou art a husband, and hast ever caused the fond bosom that ventured its whole happi ness in thy arms to doubt one moment of thy kindness or thy truth; if thou art a friend, and hast ever wronged in thought, word or deed, the spirit that generously confided in thee ; if thou art a lover, and hast ever given one unmerited pang to that true heart that now lies cold and still beneath thy feet ; then be sure that every unkind look, every ungracious word, every ungentle action, will come thronging back upon thy memory, and knocking dolefully at thy soul ; then be sure that thou wilt lie down sorrowing and repentant D the grave, and utter the unheard groan, and pour the unavailing tear ; more deep, more bitter, because unheard and unavailing. Then weave the chaplet of flowers, and strew the beauties of nature about the grave ; console thy broken spirit, if thou canst, with these tender, yet futile tributes of regret; but take warning by the bitterness of this thy contrite affliction over the dead, and be more faithful and affectionate in thy discharge of thy duties to the living. WASHINGTON IRVING. DRESS REFORM. 4 CONVENTION has recently been held in Viaeland, attended by the women who are op posed to extravagance in dress. They pro pose, not only by formal resolution, but by personal example, to teach the world lessons of economy by wearing less adornment and dragging fewer yards of silk. We wish them all success, although we would have more confidence in the move ment if so many of the delegates had not worn bloomer dresses. Moses makes war upon that style of apparel in Deuteronomy xxii. 5: "The woman shall not wear that which pertaineth unto man." Nevertheless we favor every effort to stop the ex travagant use of dry goods and millinery. We have, however, no sympathy with the implica tion that women are worse than men in this respect. Men wear all they can without interfering with their locomotion, but man is such an awkward creature he cannot find any place on his body to hang a great many fineries. He could not get round in Wall Street with eight or ten flounces and a big handled parasol, and a mountain of back hair. Men wear less than women, not because they are more moral, but because they cannot stand it As it is, many of our young men are padded to a superlative degree, and have corns and bunions on every separate toe from wearing tight shoes. Neither have we any sympathy with the implication that the present is worse than the past in matters of dress. Compare the fashion-plates of the seventeenth century with the fashion-plates of the nineteenth, and you decide in favor of our day. The women of Isaiah's time beat anything now. Do we have the kangaroo fashion Isaiah speaks of the daughters who walked forth with " stretched forth necks ? " Talk of hoops ! Isaiah speaks of women with "round tires like the moon." Do we have hot irons for curling our hair ? Isaiah speaks of ' ' wimples and crisping pins. ' ' Do we sometimes wear glasses astride our nose, not because we are near-sighted, but for beautification ? Isaiah speaks of the " glasses, and the earrings, and the nose jewels." The dress of to-day is far more sensible than that of a hundred or a thousand yean ago. But the largest room in the world is room for im provement, and we would cheer on those who would attempt reformation either in male or female attire MASTERPIECES OF ELOQUENCE. 669 tteaawhue, we rejoice that so many of the pearls, and imeralda, and amethysts, and diamonds of the world are coming into the possession of Christian women. Who knows but the spirit of consecration may some 4ay come upon them, and it shall be again as it was m the time of Moses, that for the prosperity of the noose of the Lord the women may bring their brace lets, and earrings, and tablets, and jewels? The precious stones of earth will never have their proper gj&oe till they are set around the Pearl of Great Price. T. DE WITT TALMAGB. WHEN WAR SHALL BE NO MORE. EATH shall hereafter work alone and single- handed, unaided by his most terrible auxiliary. The world shall repose in quiet. Far down the vista of futurity the tribes of human kind are seen mingling in fraternal harmony, wondering and ahuddering as they read of former brutality, and exulting at their own more fortunate lot They turn their grateful ey<-s upon us. Their countenances are cot suffusad with tears, nor streaked with kindred blood. We hear their voices; they are not swelling with tones of general wailing and despair. We look at their smiling fields, undevastated by the hand of rapine; they are waving with yellow harvests, or loaded with golden fruits ; and their sunny pastures Are filled with quiet herds, which have never known the wanton ravage of war. We turn to the peaceful bomes where our infancy has been cradled ; they stand undespoiled by the hand of the destroyer. The scenes where we indulged our childish sports have never been profaned by hostile feet ; and the tall groves, where we performed our feats of school-boy dexterity, have never been desecrated to obtain the implements of human destruction. !Rien our thoughts extend and embrace the land of oar birth, the institutions and laws we so much venerate, and something whispers us they shall endure forever; that all time shall witness their increasing perfection ; that all nations shall copy from its example, and derive interminable benefits from its influence ; for war, the destroyer of every valuable institution, the great and sole cause of all national rain, is soon to be Men no more forever. TBEVELYAK FABBB. TRUE PATRIOTISM. WITH I ?' givei malice toward none; with charity for ; with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in ; to bind up the (nation's wounds ; to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow, and his orphan to do fell which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting pern among ourselves, and with all nations. ABRAHAM UttOOUC. A MARVELLOUS CLOCK. UK brains are seventy-year clocks. The angel of life winds them up at once for all, then closes the cases, and gives the key into the hand of the angel of resurrection. "Tic-tae, tic-tac ! " go the wheels of thought ; our will cannot stop them ; madness only makes them go fasteV. Death alone can break into the case, and, seizing tha ever-swinging pendulum which we call the hear^ silence at last the clicking of the terrible escapeme^ we Slave carried so long beneath our aching foreheada OLIVER WENDELL HOUUS& MEN WHO NEVER DIE. 'E dismiss them not to the chambers of for* getfulness and death. What we admired, and prized, and venerated in them, can never be forgotten. I had almost said that they are now beginning to live ; to live that life of unimpaired influence, of unclouded fame, of un~ mingled happiness, for which their talents and service* were destined. Such men do not, cannot die. To be cold and breathless ; to feel not and speak not ; this ia not the end of existence to the men who have breathed their spirits into the institutions of their country, who have stamped their characters on the pillars of the age, who have poured their hearts' blood into the channels of the public prosperity. Tell me, ye who tread the sods of yon sacred height, is Warren dead f Can you not still see him, not pale and prostrate, the blood of his gallant heart pouring out of his ghastly wound, but moving resplendent over the field of honor, with the rose of heaven upon his cheek, and the fire of liberty in his eye ? Tell me, ye who make your pious pilgrimage to the shades of Vernon, is Wash ington indeed shut up in that cold and narrow house? That which made these men, and men like these, cannot die. The hand that traced the charter of in dependence is, indeed, motionless ; the eloquent lipfl that sustained it are hushed ; but the lofty spirits thai conceived, resolved, and maintained it, and which alone, to such men, "make it life to live," theuB cannot expire : 11 These shall resist the empire of decay, When time is o'er and worlds have passed away; Cold in the dust the perished heart may lie, But that which warmed it once can never die." EDWAED BVBBBTT, STOPPING THE MARCH OP FREEDOM. ris not for men long to hinder the march ol\ human freedom. I have no fear for that ulti mately ; none at all simply for this reason : thai I believe in the infinite God. You may make your statutes ; an appeal always lies to the higher law, ad decisions adverse to that get set aside in the age& Your statutes cannot hold Him. You may gather ft 670 MASTERPIECES OF ELOQUENCE. the dried grass and all the straw in both continents ; you may braid it into ropes to bind down the sea ; while it is calm, you may laugh, and say, " Lo, I have chained the ocean ! " and howl down the law of Him who holds the universe as a rose-bud in his hand its every ocean but a drop of dew. "How the waters iup press their agitation," you may say. But when the winds blow their trumpets, the sea rises in his trength, snaps asunder the bonds that had confined his mighty limbs, and the world is littered v''^ the idle hay! Stop the human race in its deve*..v < nt and march to freedom ! As well might the boys of Boston, some lustrous night, mounting the steeples of the town, call on the stars to stop their course ! Gently, but irresistibly, the Greater and the Lesser Bear move round the pole ; Orion, in his mighty mail, comes up the sky ; the Bull, the Heavenly Twins, the Grab, the Lion, the Maid, the Scales, and all that shining company, pursue their march all night, and the new day discovers the idle urchins in their lofty places all tired, and sleepy, and ashamed. THEODORE PARK.KB, INVECTIVE IN THE "WILKINSON TRIAL." , although my clients are free from the charge of shedding blood, there is a murderer, and, strange to say, his name ap pears upon the indictment, not as a criminal, bat a prosecutor. His garments are wet with the blood of those upon whose deaths you hold this solemn inquest Yonder he sits, allaying for a moment the hunger of that fierce vulture, conscience, by casting before it the food of pretended regret, and false but apparent eagerness for justice. He hopes to appease the manes of his slaughtered victims victims to his falsehood and treachery by sacrificing upon their graves a hecatomb of innocent men. By base misrep resentations of the conduct of the defendants, he in duced his imprudent friends to attempt a vindication of his pretended wrongs, by violence and bloodshed. His clansmen gathered at his call, and followed him for vengeance; but when the fight began, and the keen weapons clashed in the sharp conflict where was the wordy warrior? Aye, "where was Roderick then ? " No " blast upon his bugle horn ' ' encouraged his companions as they were laying down their lives in his quarrel ; no gleam of his dagger indicated a desire to avenge his fall ; with treacherous cowardice be left them to their fate, and all his vaunted courage ended in ignominious flight Sad and gloomy is the path that lies before him. Yon will in a few moments dash, uutasted, from his Bps, the sweet cup of revenge ; to quaff whose in toxicating contents he has paid a price that would have purchased the goblet of the Egyptian queen. I be hold gathering around him, thick and fast, dark and corroding cares. That face, which looks so ruddy, and ven now is flushed with shame and conscious guilt, iriU iroui this day grow pale, until the craven blood shall refuse to visit the haggard cheek. In his broiuut and distorted sleep his dreams will be more fearful than those of the "false, perjured Clarence;" and around his waking pillow, in the deep hour of night, will flit the ghosts of Meeks and Roth well, shrieking their curses in his shrinking ear. Upon his head rests not only the blood shed in this unfortunate strife, but also the soul-killing crime of perjury ; for, surely as he lives, did the words of craft and falsehood fall from his lips, ere they were hardly loosened from the holy volume. But I dismiss him, and do consign him to the furies, trusting, in all charity, that the terrible punishment he must suffer from the scorpion-lash of guilty conscience will be considered in his last account. SAKGKNT a PBBBTtBB. THE bALLOT-BOX. IAM aware that the ballot-box is not everywhere a consistent symbol ; but to a large degree it is BO, I know what miserable associations cluster around this instrument of popular power. I know that the arena in which it stands is trodden into mire by the feet of reckless ambition and selfish greed. The wire-pulling and the bribing, the pitiful truckling and the grotesque compromises, the exaggeration and the detraction, the melo-dramatic issues and the sham patriotism, the party watchwords and the party nick names, the schemes of the few paraded as the will of the many, the elevation of men whose only worth is in the votes they command vile men, whose hand* you would not grasp fei friendship, whose presence you would not tolerate by your fireside incompetent men, whose fitness is not in their capacity as function aries, or legislators, but as organ pipes ; the snatch ing at the slices and offal of office, the intemperance and the violence, the finesse and the falsehood, the gin and the glory; these are indeed but too closely identified with that political agitation which circles around the ballot-box. But, after all, they are not essential to it They are only the masks of a genuine grandeur and importance. For it is a grand thing something which involves profound doctrines of right something which has cost ages of effort and sacrifice it is a grand thing that here, at last, each voter has just the weight of one man ; no more, no less ; and the weakest, by virtue of his recognized manhood, is as strong as the mightiest And consider, for a moment, what it is to cast a vote. It is the token of inestimable privileges, and involves the responsibilities of an hereditary trust. It has passed into your hands as a right, reaped from fields of suffering and blood. The grandeur of history is represented in your act Men have wrought with pen and tongue, and pined in dungeons, and died os scaffolds, that you mighfc obtain this symbol of free dom, and enjoy this consciousness of a sacred individ uality. To the ballot have been transmitted, _* "A MASTERPIECES OF ELOQUENCE. 671 power. B, the dignity of the sceptre and the potency of the word. And that which is so potent as a right is also preg nant as a duty ; a duty for the present and for the future. If you will, that folded leaf becomes a tongue f justice, a voice of order, a force of imperial law ; tecuring rights, abolishing abuses, erecting new insti tutions of truth and love. And, however you will, it is the expression of a solemn responsibility, the ex ercise of an immeasurable power for good or for evil, BOW and hereafter. It is the medium through which you act upon your country the organic nerve which incorporates you with its life and welfare. There is no agent with which the possibilities of the republic we more intimately involved, none upon which we can fill! back with more confidence than the ballot-box. EDWIN H. CHAPXN. DANGER OF VAST FORTUNES. [AST fortunes are a misfortune to the State. They confer irresponsible power ; and kuman nature, except in the rarest instances, has proved incapable of wielding irresponsible without abuse. The feudalism of Capital is not a whit less formidable than the feudalism of Force. Hie millionaire is as dangerous to the welfare of the community, in our day, as was the baronial lord of the middle ages. Both supply the means of shelter and of raiment on the same conditions ; both hold their retainers in service by the same tenure their necessity for bread ; both use their superiority to keep them selves superior. The power of money is as imperial as the power of the sword ; I may as well depend upon another for my head as for my bread. The day is sure to come, when men will look back upon the preroga tives of Capital, at the present time, with as severe and as just a condemnation as we now look back upon the predatory chieftains of the Dark Ages. Weighed in the balances of the sanctuary, or even in the clumsy scales of human justice, there is no equity in the allotments, which assign to one man but a dollar a day, with working, while another has an income of a dollar a minute, without working. Under the reign of Force, or under the reign of Money, there may be here and there a good man who uses his power for blessing and not for oppressing his race ; but all their natural tendencies are exclusively bad. In England, we see the feudalism of Capital approaching its catas trophe. In Ireland, we see the catastrophe consum mated. Unhappy Ireland ! where the objects of human existence and the purposes of human govern ment have all been reversed ; where rulers, for centuries, have ruled for the aggrandizement of them selves, and not for the happiness of their subjects ; where misgovernment has reigned so long, so lupremely, and so atrociously, that, at the present tiuiu, the "Three Estates" of the realm are Crime, Famine, and Death. HORACE MANN, THE WORLD OF BEAUTY AROUND US. UT a higher and holier world than the world oi Ideas, or the world of Beauty, lies around us ; and we find ourselves endued with suscepti bilities which affiliate us to all its purity and hs perfectness. The laws of nature are sublime, but there is a moral sublimity before which the highest in telligences must kneel and adore. The laws by which the winds blow, and the tides of the ocean, like a vast clepsydra, measure, with inimitable exactness, th hours of ever-flowing time ; the laws by which the planets roll, and the sun vivifies and paints ; the laws which preside over the subtle combinations of chemistry, and the amazing velocities of electricity ; the laws of germination and production in the vegetable and aaimal worlds ; aU! these, radiant with eternal beauty as thef are and exalted above all the objects of sense, stii; \ T ant and pale before the Moral Glories that apparel the universe in their celestial light The heart can put on charms which no beauty of known things, nor imagination of the unknown, can aspire to emulate. Virtue shines in native colors, purer and brighter than pearl, or diamond, or prism, can reflect. Arabian gardens in their bloom can exhale no such sweetness as charity diffuses. Benefi cence is godlike, and he who does most good to his fellow-man is the Master of Masters, and has learned the Art of Arts. Enrich and embellish the universe as you will, it is only a fit temple for the heart that loves truth with a supreme love. Inanimate vastuesB excites wonder; knowledge kindles admiration, but love enraptures the soul. Scientific truth is marvel lous, but moral truth is divine ; and whoever breathes its air and walks by its light has found the lost para dise. For him a new heaven and a new earth have already been created. His home is the sanctuary of God, the Holy of Holies. HOBACE MAN*. SOCIETY WITHOUT MORALITY. HE mass is changing. We are becoming another people. Our habits have held us, long after those moral causes which formed them have in a great degree ceased to operate. These habits, at length, are giving way. So many hands have so long been employed to pull away foundations, and so few to repair the breaches, tLal the building totters. So much enterprise has been displayed in removing obstructions from the current of human depravity, and so little to restore them, that the stream at length is beginning to run. It may be stopped now, but it will soon become deep, and broad, and rapid, and irresistible. The crisis then has come. By the people of this generation, by ourselves probably, the amazing ques tion is to be decided, whether the inheritance of orar fathers shall be preserved, or thrown away whether our Sabbaths shall be a delight, or a loathing whether 672 MASTERPIECES OF ELOQUENCE. the taverns on that holy day shall be crowded with drunkards, or the sanctuary of God with humble wor shippers whether riot and profanity shall fill our streets, and poverty our dwellings, and convicts our jails, and violence our land ; or whether industry, and temperance, and righteousness, shall be the stability of our times whether mild laws shall receive the cheerful submission of freemen, or the iron rod of a tyrant compel the trembling homage of slaves. Be not deceived. Human nature in this nation is like human nature everywhere. All actual difference in our favor is adventitious, and the result of our laws, institutions and habits. It is a moral influence which, with the blessing of God, has formed a state of society so eminently desirable. The same influence which has formed it, is indispensable to its preservation. The rocks and hills of New England will remain till the last conflagration ; but, let the Sabbath be profaned with impunity, the worship of God be abandoned, the government and religious instruction of children be neglected, the streams of intemperance be permitted to flow, and her glory will depart. The wall of fire will no more surround her, and the munition of rocks will no longer be her defence. LYMAN BEBCHEB. GETTING THE RIGHT START. VW^TTTT^TT ^K rs is no surer sign of an unmanly and cowardly spirit than a vague desire for help, wish to depend, to lean upon somebody and enjoy the fruits of the industry of others. There are multitudes of young men who indulge in dreams of help from some quarter coming in at a con venient moment to enable them to secure the success in life which they covet. The vision haunts them of Home benevolent old gentleman with a pocket full of money, a trunk full of mortgages and stocks, and a mind remarkably appreciative of merit and genius, who will, perhaps, give or lend them from ten to twenty thousand dollars, with which they will com mence and go on swimmingly. To me one of the most disgusting sights in the world is that of a young man with healthy blood, broad shoulders and a hundred and fifty pounds more or less, of good bone and muscle, standing with his hands in his pockets, longing for help. I admit that there are positions in which the most independent spirit may accept of assistance may, in fact, as a choice of evils, desire it ; but for a man who is able to help himself, to desire the help of others in the accom plishment of his plans of life, is positive proof that he has received a most unfortunate training or that there is a leaven of meanness in his composition that should make him shudder. When, therefore, a young man has ascertained and fully received the fact that he does not know anything, that the world does not care anything about him, that what he wins must be won by his own brain and brown, and that while he holds in his own hands the means of gaining his own livelihood and the objects of his life, he cannot receive assistance without compro mising his self-respect and selling his freedom, he is iu a fair position for beginning life. When a young man becomes aware that only by his own efforts can he rise into companionship and competition with the sharp, strong, and well-drilled minds around him, he is ready for work, and not before. The next lesson is that of patience, thoroughness of preparation, and contentment with the regular channels of business effort and enterprise. This is, perhaps, one of the most difficult to learn ov all the lessons of life. It is natural for the mind to reach out eagerly for immediate results. As manhood dawns, and the young man catches in its first light the pinnacles of realized dreams, the golden domes of high possibilities, and the purpling hills of great delights, and then looks down upon the narrow, sinuous, long, and dusty path by which other* have reached them, he is apt to be disgusted with the passage and to seek for success through broader chan nels, by quicker means. Beginning at the very foot of the hill and working slowly to the top seems a very discouraging process ; and precisely at this point have thousands of jxmng men made shipwreck of their lives. Let this be understood, then, at starting ; that the patient conquest of difficulties which rise in the regular and legitimate channels of business and enterprise is not only essential in securing the success which you seek, but it is essential to that preparation of your mind requisite for the enjoyment of your successes and for retaining them when gained. It is the general rule of Providence, the world over and in all time, that unearned success is a curse. It is the rule of Prov idence that the process of earning success shall be the preparation for its conservation and enjoyment. So, day by day, and week by week ; so, month after month, and year after year, work on, and in that pro- cessga in strength and symmetry, and nerve and knowl edge, that when success, patiently and bravely worked forth, shall come, it may find you prepared to receive it and keep it. The development which you will get in this brave and patient labor will prove itself in the end the most valuable of your successes. It will help to make a man of you. It will give you power and self-reliance. It will give you not only self-respect, but the respect of your fellows and the public. JOSIAH GILBERT HOLLAND. THE THINKER. WHAT is the hardest task in the world? T< think. I would put myself in the attitude to look in the eye of an abstract truth, and I cannot I blench and withdraw on this side and that I seem to know what he meant, who said, "No man can see God face to face, and live." For example, a man explores the basis of civil govern ment. Let him intend his mind without respite. MASTERPIECES OF ELOQUENCE. 673 adthout rest, in one direction. His best heed long time avails him nothing. Yet thoughts are flitting before him. We all but apprehend, we dimly fore bode the truth. We say, I will walk abroad, and the truth will take form and clearness to me. We go forth, but cannot find it. It seems as if we needed only the stillness and composed attitude of the library, to seize the thought. But we come in, and are as far from it as at first. Then, in a moment, and unan nounced, the truth appears. A certain wandering light appears, and is the distinction, the principle, we wanted. But the oracle comes, because we had previously laid siege to the shrine. It seems as if the law of the intellect resembles that law of nature by which we now inspire, now expire, the breath by which the heart now draws in, now hurls out the blood : the law of undulation. So now you must labor with your brains, and now you must forbear your Aivity, and see what the great soul showeth. RALPH WALDO EMEESON. COMPANIONSHIP WITH CHILDREN. has been the charm of childhood on my spirit, throughout my ramble with little Annie ! Say not that it has been a waste of precious moments, an idle matter, a babble f childish talk, and a reverie of childish imaginations about topics unworthy of a grown man's notice. Has it been merely this ? Not so ; not so. They are not truly wise who would affirm it. As the pure breath of children revives the life of aged men, so is our moral nature revived by their free and simple thoughts, their native feeling, their airy mirth, for little cause or none, their grief, soon roused and soon allayed. Their influence on us is at least reciprocal with ours on them. When our infancy is almost forgotten, and our boy hood long departed, though it seems but as yesterday ; when life settles darkly down upon us, and we doubt whether to call ourselves young any more, then it is good to steal away from the society of bearded men, and even of gentler women, and spend an hour or two with children. After drinking from those fountains of sffll fresh existence, we shall return into the crowd, as I do now, to struggle onward and do our part in life, perhaps as fervently as ever, but, for a time, with a kinder and purer heart, and a spirit more lightly wise. All this by thy sweet magic, dear little Annie ! NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. ffi MUSIC. USIC is well said to be the speech of angels ; fact, nothing among the utterances in allowed; o man is felt to be so divine. It brings us near to the Infinite ; we look for moments, across the cloudy elements, into the eternal eea of Hght, when song leads and inspires us. Serious nations, all nations that can still listen to the mandate 43 of nature, have prized song and music as the highest ; as a vehicle for worship, for prophecy, and for what soever in them was divine. The singer was a vatM admitted to the council of the universe, friend of the gods, and choicest benefactor to man. THOMAS CAJXTUK. WORK. ris no man's business whether he has genius of not ; work he must, whatever he is, but quietly and steadily ; and the natural and unforced re sults of such work will be always the thing God meant him to do, and will be his best. JOHN KUSKW. TRUE POLITENESS. as to politeness, many have attempted its definition. I believe it is best to be known by description ; definition not being able to com prise it. I would, however, venture to call ft benevolence in trifles, or the preference of others to ourselves, in little daily, hourly occurrences in the commerce of life. A better place, a more commodious seat, priority in being helped at table ; what is it but sacrificing ourselves in such trifles to the convenience and pleasures of others? And this constitutes true politeness. It is a perpetual attention (by habit it grows easy and natural to us) to the little wants of those we are with, by which we either prevent or remove them. Bowing, ceremonies, formal compli ments, stiff civilities will never be politeness; that must be easy, natural, unstudied, manly, noble. And what will give this but a mind benevolent, and per petually attentive to exert that amiable disposition hi trifles towards all you converse and live with. Benev olence in great matters takes a higher name, and ia the Queen of Virtue. LORD CHATHAM. ITALY. HAT light is shed upon the world at thit day, from amidst these nigged palaces of Florence ! Here, open to all comers, in their beautiful and calm retreats, the an cient sculptors are immortal, side by side witlk Michael Angelo, Canova, Titian, Rembrandt, Raphael, poets, historians, philosophers those illustrious men of history, beside whom its crowned head and har nessed warriors show so poor and small, and are so soon forgotten. Here, the imperishable part of noble minds survives, placid and equal, when strongholds of assault and defence are overthrown ; when the tyranny of the many, or the few, or both, is but a tale ; when pride and power are so much cloistered dust. The fire with in the stern streets, and among the massive palacei and towers, kindled by rays from heaven, is still burn ing brightly, when the flickering of war is extinguished, and the household fires of generations have decayed ; 674 MASTERPIECES OF ELOQUENCE. li thousands upon thousands of faces, rigid with the Itrife and passion of the hour, have faded out of the old squares and public haunts, while the nameless Florentine lady, preserved from oblivion by a painter's hand, yet lives on in enduring grace and truth. CHARLES DICKENS. EXECUTION OF JOAN OF ARC. AVING placed the king on his throne, it was her fortune thenceforward to be thwarted. More than one military plan was entered upon which she did not approve. Too well she felt that the end was now at hand. Still, she continued to expose her person in battle as before ; severe wounds had not taught her caution ; and at length she was made prisoner by the Burgundians, and finally given up to the English. The object now was to vitiate the coronation of Charles VII. as the work of a witch ; and, for this end, Joan was tried for sorcery. She resolutely defended herself from the absurd accusation. Never, from the foundation of the earth, was there guch a trial as this, if it were laid open in all its beauty of defence, and all its malignity of attack. 0, child of France, shepherdess, peasant-girl ! trodden under foot by all around thee, how I honor thy flash ing intellect quick as the lightning, and as true to its mark that ran before France and laggard Europe by many a century, confounding the malice of the ensnarer, and making dumb the oracles of falsehood ! " Would you examine me as a witness against myself?" was the question by which many times she defied their arts. The result of this trial was the condemnation of Joan to be burnt alive. Never did grim inquisitors doom to death a fairer victim by baser means. Woman, sister ! there are some things which you do not execute as well as your brother, man ; no, nor ever will. Yet, sister woman ! cheerfully, and with the love that burns in depths of admiration, 1 acknowl edge that you can do one thing as well as the best of men you can die grandly ! On the twentieth of May, 1431, being then about nineteen years of age, Joan of Arc underwent her martyrdom. She was conducted before mid-day guarded by eight spearmen, to a plat form of prodigious height, constructed of wooden billets, supported by occasional walls of lath and plaster, and traversed by hollow spaces in every direction, for the creation of air-currents. With an undaunted soul, but a meek and saintly demeanor, the maiden encountered her terrible fate. Upon her head was placed a mitre, bearing the in scription, "Relapsed heretic, apostate, idolatress. 1 ' Her piety displayed itself in the most touching man ner to the last, and her angelic forgetfulness of self was manifest in a most remarkable degree. The ex ecutioner had been directed to apply his torch from below. He did so. The fiery smoke rose upwards in billowing volumes. A monk was then standing at Joan's side. Yv'rapt up in his sublime office, he saw not the danger, but still persisted in his prayers Even then, when the last enemy was racing up the fiery stairs to seize her, even at that moment, did this noblest of girls think only for him the one friend that would not forsake her and not for herself ; bidding him with her last breath to care for his own preserva tion, but to leave her to God. " Go down," she said ; "lift up the cross before me, that I may see it in dying, and speak to me pious words to the end." Then protesting .her innocence, and recommending her soul to Heaven, she continued to pray as the flames leaped up and walled her in. Her last audible word was the name of Jesus. Sustained by faith in Him, in her last fight upon the scaffold, she had triumphed gloriously ; victoriously she had tasted death. Few spectators of this martyrdom were so hardened as to contain their tears. All the English, *rith the exception of a few soldiers who made a jest of the affair, were deeply moved. The French murmured that the death was cruel and unjust. " She dies a martyr!" "Ah, we are lost, we have burned a saint!" "Would to God that my soul were with hers!" Such were the exclamations on every side. A fanatic English soldier, who had sworn to throw a fagot on the funeral-pile, hearing Joan's last prayer to her Saviour, suddenly turned away, a penitent for life, saying everywhere that he had seen a dove, rising upon white wings to heaven from the ashes where she stood. THOMAS DE QUINCKY. AT THE LAST. IFEEL in myself the future life. I am like a forest which has been more than once cut down. The new shoots are stronger and livelier than ever. I am rising, I know, toward the sky. The sun shine is on my head. The earth gives me its generous sap, but Heaven lights me with the reflection of un known worlds. You say the soul is nothing but the resultant of bodily powers. Why, then, is my soul the most luminous when my bodily powers begin to fail ? Winter is on my head and eternal spring is in my heart. Then I breathe, at this hour, the fragrance of the lilacs, the violets and the roses, as at twenty years. The nearer I approach the end the plainer I hear around me the immortal symphonies of the worlds which invite me. It is marvelous, yet simple. It is a fairy tale, and it is history. For half a century I have been writing my thoughts in prose, verse, hietory n philosophy, drama, romance, tradition, satire, ode. song I have tried all. But I feel that I have not said the thousandth part of what is in me. When I go down to the grave I can say, like so many others, " I have finished my day's work ; " but I cannot say, "I have finished my life." My day's work will begin again the next morning. The tomb is not a blind alley ; it is a thoroughfare. It closes in the twilight to open with the dawn. I improve every hur, be- MASTERPIECES OF ELOQUENCE. 675 cause I love this world as my fatherland ; because the truth compels me as it compelled Voltaire, that human divinity. My work is only a beginning. My monu ment is hardly above its foundation. I would be glad to see it mounting and mounting forever. The thirst tor the infinite proves infinity. VICTOR HUGO. NAPOLEON AT ST. HELENA. IS notions of the world, as he expresses them there at St. Helena, are almost tragical to con sider. He seems to feel the most unaffected surprise that it has all gone so ; that he is flung out on the rock here, and the world is still moving on its axis. France is great, and all-great ; and, at bot tom, he is France. England itself, he says, is by nature only an appendage of France ; ''Another Isle of Oleren to France." So it was by nature, by Napoleon-nature ; and yet look how in fact Here am I : He cannot understand it ; inconceivable that the reality has not corresponded to his programme of it ; that France was not all-great ; that he was not France. "Strong delusion," that he should believe the thing to be which is not ! The compact, clear-seeing, Ital ian nature of him, strong, genuine, which he once had, has enveloped itself, half dissolved itself, in a turbid atmosphere of French fanfaronade. The world was not disposed to be trodden down underfoot, to be bound into masses, and built together, as he liked, for a pedestal for France and him ; the world had quite other purposes in view ! Napoleon's astonishment is extreme. But alas, what help now? He had gone that way of his ; and nature also had gone her way. Having once parted with reality, he tumbles helpless in vacuity ; no rescue for him. He had to sink there, mournfully as men seldom did ; and break his great heart, and die this poor Napoleon ; a great imple ment, too soon wasted, till it was useless ; our last great man ! THOMAS CAKLYLH. BOOKfc. IN the best books, great men talk to us, give us their most precious thoughts, and pour their souls into ours. God be thanked for books ! They are the voices of the distant and the dead, and make us heirs of the spiritual life of past ages. Books are the true levellers. They give to all who will faithfully use them the society, the spiritual presence, of the best and greatest of our race. No matter how poor I am no matter though the prosper ous of my own time will not enter my obscure dwelling if the sacred writers will enter and take up their abode under my roof, if Milton will cross my threshold to sing to me of Paradise, and Shakespeare to open to nae the worlds of imagination and the workings of the human heart, and Franklin to enrich me with his practical wisdom I shall not pine for want of intel- lectual companionship, and I may become a cultivated man, though excluded from what is called the best society in the place where I live. WILLIAM ELLERY CHANNING HUMILITY. HE only true independence is in humility ; fof the humble man exacts nothing, and cannot be mortified expects nothing, and cannot be disappointed. Humility is also a healing virtue ; it will cicatrize a thousand wounds, which pride would keep forever open. But humility is not the virtue of a fool : since it is not consequent upon any comparison between ourselves and others, but between what we are and what we ought to be which no man ever was. WASHINGTON ALLSTON. PORTRAIT OF A DUTCHMAN. ^T^HE renowned Wouter (or Walter) Van Twiller \ I f was descended from a long line of Dutch JL burgomasters, who had successively dozed away their lives, and grown fat upon the bench of magistracy in Rotterdam, and who had com ported themselves with such singular wisdom and pro priety that they were never either heard or talked of which, next to being universally applauded, should be the object of ambition of all magistrates and rulers. There are two opposite ways by which some men make a figure in the world : one by talking faster than they think ; and the other by holding their tongues and not thinking at all. By the first, many a smat- terer acquires the reputation of a man of quick parts ; by the other, many a dunderpate, like the owl, the stupidest of birds, comes to be considered the very type of wisdom. This, by-the-way, is a casual remark, which I would not for the universe have it thought I apply to Governor Van Twiller. It is true he was a man shut up within himself, like an oyster, and rarely spoke except in monosyllables ; but then it was allowed he seldom said a foolish thing. So invincible was his gravity that he was never known to laugh, or even to smile, through the whole course of a long and prosper ous life. Nay, if a joke were uttered in his presence that set light-minded hearers in a roar, it was observed to throw him into a state of perplexity. Sometimes he would deign to inquire into the matter ; and when, after much explanation, the joke was made as plain S.B a pikestaff, he would continue to smoke his pipe in silence, and at length, knocking out the ashes, would exclaim, "Well! I see nothing in all that to laugh about!" The person of this illustrious old gentleman was formed and proportioned as though it had been moulded by the hands of some cunning Dutch statuary, as a model of majesty and lordly grandeur. He was exactly fire feet six inches in height, and six feet fire inches in circumference. Hi* head was a perfaflt 676 MASTERPIECES OF ELOQUENCE. sphere, and of such stupendous dimensions, that dame Nature, with all her sex's ingenuity, would have been puzzled to construct a neck capable of supporting it ; wherefore she wisely declined the attempt, and settled it firmly on the back of his back-bone, just between the shoulders. His body was oblong, and particularly capacious at bottom ; which was wisely ordered by Providence, seeing that he was a man of sedentary habits, and very averse to the idle labor of walking. His legs were short, but sturdy in proportion to the weight they had to sustain ; so that when erect he had not a little the appearance of a beer-barrel on skids. His face that infallible index of the mind presented a vast expanse, unfurrowed by any of those lines and angles which disfigure the human countenance with what is termed expression. Two small gray eyes twinkled feebly in the midst, like two stars of lesser magnitude in a hazy firmament; and his full-fed cheeks, which seemed to have taken toll of everything that wet into his mouth, were curiously mottled and streaked with dusky red, like a spitzenberg apple. His habits were as regular as his person. He daily took his four stated meals, appropriating exactly an hour to each ; he smoked and doubted eight hours, and he slept the remaining twelve of the four-and- twenty. Such was the renowned Wouter Van Twiller a true philosopher ; for his mind was either elevated above, or tranquilly settled below, the cares and per plexities of this world. He had lived in it for years, without feeling the least curiosity to know whether the sun revolved round it, or it round the sun ; and he had watched, for at least half a century, the smoke curling from his pipe to the ceiling, without once troubling his head with any of those numerous theories by which a philosopher would have perplexed his brain, in accounting for its rising above the surround ing atmosphere. WASHINGTON IRVING. A GOOD DAUGHTER. GOOD daughter ! there are other ministries of love more conspicuous than hers, but none in which a gentler, lovelier spirit dwells, and none to which the heart's warm requitals more joyfully respond. There is no such thing as a comparative estimate of a parent's affection for one or another child. There is little which he needs to covet, to whom the treasure of a good child has been given. But a son's occupations and pleasures carry him more abroad, and he lives more among temptations, which hardly permit the affection, that is following him per haps over half the globe, to be wholly unmingled with anxiety, till vhe time when he comes to relinquish the shelter of his father's roof for one of his own ; while a good daughter is the steady light of her parent's house. Her idea is indissolubly connected with that of his happy fireside. She is his morning sunlight and his evening star. The grace, and vivacity, and tender ness of her sex have their place in the mighty sway which she holds over his spirit. The lessons of re corded wisdom which he reads with her eyes come to his mind with a new charm as they blend with the beloved melody of her voice. He scarcely knows weariness which her song does not make him forget, or gloom which is proof against the young brightness of her smiles. She is the pride and ornament of his hospitality, and the gentle nurse of his sickness, and the constant agent in those nameless, numberless acts of kindness, which one chiefly cares to have rendered because they are unpretending, but all-expressive proofs of love. And then what a cheerful sharer is she, and what an able lightener, of a mother's cares ! what an ever- present delight and triumph to a mother's affection ! Oh, how little do those daughters know of the power which God has committed to them, and the happiness God would have them enjoy, who do not, every time that a parent's eye rests on them, bring rapture to a parent's heart ! A true love will almost certainly always greet their approaching steps. That they wMl hardly alienate. But their ambition should be not to have it a love merely which feelings implanted by nature excite, but one made intense and overflowing by approbation of worthy conduct ; and she is strangely blind to her own happiness, as well as undutiful to them to whom she owes the most, in whom the per petual appeals of parental disinterestedness do not call forth the prompt and full echo of filial devotion. JOHN GOBHAM PALFREY. CHARACTER OF MAJOR ANDRE. HERE was something singularly interesting in the character and fortunes of Andre. To at excellent understanding, well improved by education and travel, he united a peculiar elegance of mind and manners, and the advantage of a pleasing person. 'Tis said he possessed a pretty taste for the fine arts, and had himself attained some pro ficiency in poetry, music, and painting. His knowledge appeared without ostentation, and embellished by a diffidence that rarely accompanies so many talents and accomplishments, which left you to suppose more than appeared. His sentiments were elevated, and inspired esteem ; they had a softness that conciliated affection. His elocution was handsome ; his address easy, polite, and insinuating. By his merit, he had acquired the unlimited confidence of his general, and was making a rapid progress in military rank and reputation. But in the height of his career, flushed with new hopes from the execution of a project the most beneficial to his party that could be devised, he was at once pre cipitated from the summit of prosperity, and saw all the expectations of his ambition blasted, and himself ruined. The character I have given of him is drawn partly from what I saw of him myself, and partly from in formation. I am aware that a man of real merit 10 MASTERPIECES OF ELOQUENCE. 677 uarer seen in so favorable a light as through the medium of adversity ; the clouds that surround him are shades that set off his good qualities. Misfortune cuts down the little vanities that, in prosperous times, serve as so many spots in his virtues, and gives a tone of humility that makes his worth more amiable. His spectators, who enjoy a happier lot, are less prone to detract from it through envy, and are more disposed, 'by compassion, to give him the credit he deserves, and perhaps even to magnify it. I speak not of Andre's conduct in this affair as a philosopher, but as a man of the world. The at^her ized maxims and practices of war are the satii"3S of human nature. They countenance almost every species of seduction as well as violence ; and the general who can make most traitors in the army of his adversary is frequently most applauded. On this scale we acquit Andre, while we could not but condemn him if we were to examine his conduct by the sober rules of philosophy and moral rectitude. It is, however, a blemish on his fame that he once intended to prosti tute a flag ; about this a man of nice honor ought to have had a scruple ; but the temptation was great ; let his misfortunes cast a veil over his error. ALEXANDER HAMILTON. OUR WORLD. "fl* THINK I love and reverence all arts equally, only i putting my own just above the others ; because in it I recognize the union and culmination of them all. To me it seems as if when God con ceived the world, that was poetry ; He formed it, and that was Sculpture ; He colored it, and that was Paint ing ; He peopled it with living beings, and that was che grand, divine, eternal Drama. CHAKLOTTE CUSHMAN. THE HERO. true hero is the great, wise man of duty he whose soul is armed by truth and supported by the smile of God he who meets life's perils with a cautious but tranquil spirit, gathers strength by facing its storms, and dies, if he is called to die, as a Christian victor at the post of duty. And if we must have heroes, and wars where'ni to make them, there is no so brilliant war as a war with wrong, no hero so fit to be sung as he who has gained die bloodless victory of truth and mercy. But if bravery be not the same as courage, still it is l very imposing and plausible counterfeit. The man himself is told, after the occasion is past, how heroic- tlly he bore himself, and when once his nerves have become tranquillized, he begins even to believe it. Vnd since we cannot stay content in the dull, unin- Jpired world of economy and work, we are as ready to Bee a hero as he to be one. Nay, we must have our heroes, as I just said, and we are ready to harness ourselves, by the million, to any man who will let us fight him out the name. Thus we find out occasions for war wrongs to be redressed, revenges to be taken, such as we may feign inspiration and play the great heart under. We collect armies, and dress up leaders in gold and high colors, meaning, by the brave look, to inspire some notion of a hero beforehand. Theft we set the men in phalanxes and squadrons, where the personality itself is taken away, and a vast impersonal person called an army, a magnanimous and brave monster, is all that remains. The masses of fierce color, the glitter of steel, the dancing plumes, the vaving flags, the deep throb of the music lifting every foot under these the living acres of men, possessed, by the one thought of playing brave to-day, are rolled on to battle. Thunder, fire, dust, blood, groans what of these ? nobody thinks of these, for nobody claret to think till the day is over, and then the world re joices to behold a new batch of heroes. And this in the devil's play, that we call war. HORACE BUSHNEIX. SELF-RELIANCE. INSIST on yourself ; never imitate. Your own gift you can present every moment with the cumula tive force of a whole life's cultivation ; but of the adopted talent of another you have only an ex temporaneous, half possession. That which each can do best, none but his Maker can teach him. No man yet knows what it is, nor can, till that person has ex hibited it. Where is the master who could have taught Shakespeare? Where is the master who could have instructed Franklin, or Washing^, or Bacon, or Newton? Every great man is a unique. The Scipionisin of Scipio is precisely that part he could not borrow. If anybody will tell me whom the great man imitates in the original crisis when he performs a great act, I will tell him who else than himself can teach him. Shakespeare will never be made by the study of Shakespeare. Do that which is assigned thee, and thou canst not hope too much or dare too much. RALPH WALDO EMERSON. APPEAL FOR QUEEN CAROLINE. UGH, my lords, is the case before you ! such is the evidence in support of this measure evidence inadequate to prove a debt, impotent to deprive of a civil right, ridiculous to con vict of the lowest offence, scandalous, if brought for ward to support a charge of the highest nature which the law knows, monstrous to ruin the honor and blast the name of an English queen ! What shall I say, then, if this is the proof by which an act of judicial legislation, a parliamentry sentence, an ex post facto law, is sought to be passed against a defenceless woman? My lords, I pray you to pause; I do earnestly beseech you to take heed. You are standing upon the brink of a precipice then beware ! It will go forth as your judgment, if sentence shall pass against the queen. But it will be the only judgwejnt 678 MASTERPIECES OF ELOQUENCE. you ever pronounced, which, instead of reaching us object, will return and bound back upon those who give it. Save the country, my lords, from the horrors of this catastrophe save yourselves from this peril. Revere that country of which you are the ornaments, but in which you can flourish no longer, when severed from the people, than the blossom when cut off from the roots and the stem of the tree. Save that country, that you may continue to adorn it ; save the crown, which is in jeopardy, the aristocracy, which is shaken ; save the altar, which must stagger with the blow that rends its kindred throne ! You have said, my lords, you have willed, the church to the queen, have willed that she should be deprived of its solemn service. She has, instead of that solemnity, the heartfelt prayers of the people. She wants no prayers of mine. But I do here pour forth my humble supplication to the throne of mercy, that that mercy may be poured down upon the people, in a larger measure than the merits of its rulers may deserve, and that your hearts may be turned to justice. LORD BROUGH* 1 ". RETURN OF COLUMBUS. HEAT was the agitation in the little community f Palos, as they beheld the well-known vessel of the admiral re-entering their harbor. Their desponding imaginations had long since consigned him to a watery grave ; for, in addition to the preternatural horrors which hung over the voyage, they had experienced the most stormy and disastrous winter within the recollection of the oldest mariners. Most of them had relatives or friends on board. They thronged immediately to the shore to assure themselves with their own eyes of the truth of their return. When they beheld their faces once more, and saw them accompanied by the numerous evidences which they brought back of the success of the ex pedition, they burst forth in acclamations of joy and gratulation. They awaited the landing of Columbus, when the whole population of the place accompanied him and his crew to the principal church, where solemn thanksgivings were offered up for their return ; while every bell in the village sent forth a joyous peal in honor of the glorious event. The admiral was too desirous of presenting himself before the sovereigns, to protract his stay long at Palos. He took with him on his journey specimens of the multifarious products of the newly-discovered regions. He was accompanied by several of the native islanders, arrayed in their simple barbaric costume, and decor ated, as he passed through the principal cities, with collars, bracelets, and other ornaments of gold, rudely tashioned. He exhibited also considerable quantities of the same metal in dust, or in crude masses, numer ous vegetable exotics, possessed of aromatic or medi cinal virtue, and several kinds of quadrupeds unknown in Europe, and birds whose varieties of gaudy prumagc gave a brilliant effect to the pageant. Tht admiral's progress through the country was every where impeded by the multitudes thronging forth to gaze at the extraordinary spectacle, and more extra ordinary man. who, in the emphatic language of thai time, which has now lost its force from its familiarity, first revealed the existence of a " New World." As he passed through the busy, populous city of Seville, every window, balcony, and housetop, which could afford a glimpse of him, is described to have been crowded with spectators. It was the middle of April before Columbus reached Barcelona. The no bility and cavaliers in attendance on the court, together with the authorities of the city, came to the gates to receive him, and escort him to the royal presence. Ferdinand and Isabella were seated, with their son, Prince John, under a superb canopy of state, awaiting his arrival. On his approach, they rose from their seats, and, extending their hands to him to salute, caused him to be seated before them. These were unprecedented marks of condescension, to a person of Columbus's rank, in the haughty and ceremonious couri of Castile. It was, indeed, the proudest mo ment in the life of Columbus. He had fully estab lished the truth of his long-contested theory, in the face of argument, sophistry, sneer, skepticism, and contempt. He had achieved this, not by chance, but by calculation, supported through the most adverse circumstances by consummate conduct. The honors paid him, which had hitherto been re served only for rank, or fortune, or military success, purchased by the blood and tears of thousands, were, in his case, a homage to intellectual power successfully exeJlx-d in behalf of the noblest interests of humanity. WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT. FUTILITY OF EFFORTS TO STAY REFORM. f 3 HAVE spoken so often on this subject, that I am Isure both you and the gentlemen here present will be obliged to me for saying but little, and that favor I am as willing to confer, as you can be to receive it. I feel most deeply the event which has taken place, because, by putting the two houses of Parliament in collision with each other, it will impede the public business, and diminish the public prosperity. I feel it as a churchman, because I cannot but blush to see so many dignitaries of the church arrayed against the wishes and happiness of the people. I feel it more than all, because I believe it will sow the seeds of deadly hatred between the aristocracy and the great mass of i the people. The loss of the bill I do not feel, and for the best of all possible reasons be cause I have not the slightest idea it is lost. I have no more doubt, before the expiration of the winter, that this bill will pass, than I have that the annual tax bills will pass, and a greater certainty than this no man can have, for Franklin tells us, there are but two things certain in this world death and taxes. A? tot MASTERPIECES OF ELOQUENCE. 679 tie possibility of the House of Lords preventing ere tong u reform of Parliament, I hold it to be the most absurd notion that ever entered into human imagina tion. I do not mean to be disrespectful, but the attempt of the lords to stop the progress of reform reminds me very forcibly of the great storm of Sid- mouth, and of the conduct of the excellent Mrs. Partington on that occasion. In the winter of 1824 there set in a great flood upon that town the tide rose to an incredible height the waves rushed in upon the houses, and everything was threatened with destruction. In the midst of this sublime and terrible storm, Dame Partington, who lived upon the beach, was seen ai/ the door of her house with a mop and pattens, trundling her mop, squeezing out the sea-water, and vigorously pushing away the Atlantic Ocean. The Atlantic was roused. Mrs. Partington' s spirit was up ; but I need not tell you that the contest was unequal. The Atlantic Ocean beat Mrs. Partington. She was excel lent at a slop, or a puddle, but she should not have meddled with a tempest. Gentlemen, be at your ease be quiet and steady. You will beat Mrs. Partington. SYDNEY SMITH. PLEA OF SERGEANT BUZFUZ, IN DELL VERSUS PICKWICK." BAR- TTTHK plaintiff, gentlemen, the plaintiff is a \ I L widow ; yes, gentlemen, a widow. The late JL Mr. Bardell, after enjoying for many years, the esteem and confidence of his sovereign, as one of the guardians of his royal revenues, glided almost imperceptibly from the world, to seek else where for that repose and peace which a custom-house can never afford. Some time before his death he had stamped his likeness upon a little boy. With this little boy, the only pledge of her departed exciseman, Mrs. Bardell shrunk from the world, and courted the retirement and tranquillity of Goswell-street ; and here she placed in her front parlor window a written placard, bearing this inscription "Apartments furnished for a single gentleman. Inquire within." I entreat the attention of the jury to the wording of this document "Apartments furnished for a single gentleman!" Mrs. Bardell' s opinions of the opposite sex, gentle men, were derived from a long contemplation of the inestimable qualities of her lost husband. She had no fear she had no distrust she had no suspicion all was confidence and reliance. " Mr. Bardell," said the widow ; " Mr. Bardell was a man of honor Mr. Bardell was a man of his word Mr. Bardell was no deceiver Mr. Bardell was once a single gentleman himself ; to single gentlemen I look for protection, for assistance, for comfort, and for con solationin single gentlemen I shall perpetually see something to remind me of what Mr. Bardell was, when he first won my young and untried afitvUons ; to a single gentleman, then, shall my lodgings be let'* Actuated by this beautiful and touching impuls* (among the best impulses of our imperfect nature, gentlemen), the lonely and desolate widow dried hei tears, furnished her first floor, caught her innocent boy to her maternal bosom, and put the bill up in her parlor window. Did it remain there long ? No. Th serpent was on the watch, the train was laid, the mint was preparing, the sapper and miner was at work. Before the bill had been in the parlor window thret days three days, gentlemen a being, erect upon two legs, and bearing all the outward semblance of a man. and not of a monster, knocked at the door of Mrs. Bardell 's house. He inquired within ; he took the lodgings ; and on the very next day he entered into possession of them. This man w.as Pickwick Pick wick, the defendant. Of this man Pickwick I will say little ; the subject presents but few attractions ; and I, gentlemen, am not the man, nor are you, gentlemen, the men to de light in the contemplation of revolting heartlessness and systematic villany. I say systematic villany, gentlemen, and when I say systematic villany, let me tell the defendant, Pickwick, if he be in court, as I am informed he is, that it would have been more decent in him, more becoming, in better judgment, and in better taste, if he had stopped away. Let me tell him, gentlemen, that any gestures of dissent or disap probation in which he may indulge in this court will not go down with you ; that you will know how to value and how to appreciate them ; and let me tell him further, as my lord will tell you, gentlemen, khat a counsel, in his discharge of his duty to his client, is neither to be intimidated, nor bullied, nor put down ; and that any attempt to do either the one or the other, or the first or the last, will recoil on the head of the attempter, be he plaintiff, or be he defendant, be his name Pickwick, or Noakes, or Stoakes, or Stiles, 01 Brown, or Thompson. I shall show you, gentlemen, that for two years Pickwick continued to reside constantly, and without interruption or intermission, at Mrs. Bardell's house. I shall show you that Mrs. Bardell, during the whole of that time, waited on him, attended to his comforts, cooked his meals, looked out his linen for the washer woman when it went abroad, darned, aired, and pre pared it for wear when it came home, and, in short, enjoyed his fullest trust and confidence. I shall show you that, on many occasions, he gave half-pence, and on some occasions even sixpence, to her little boy ; and shall prove to you, by a witness whose testimony it will be impossible for my learned friend to weaken or controvert, that on one occasion he patted the boy on the head, and after inquiring whether he had won any aUey tors or commoneys lately (both of which I under stand to be species of marbles much prized by the youth of this town), made use of this remarkable ex pression "How would you like to have another father?" CHAKLKS DICKENS. 680 MASTERPIECES OF ELOQUENCE. TRIAL OF WARREN HASTINGS. TTTHE place was worthy of such a trial. It was J I L the great hall of William Rufus ; the hall JL which had resounded with acclamations at the inauguration of thirty kings ; the hall which had witnessed the just sentence of Bacon, and the just absolution of Somers ; the hall where the eloquence of Stratford had for a moment awed and melted a vic torious party inflamed with just lesentment; the hall where Charles had confronted the High Court of Jus tice with the placid courage which has half redeemed his fame. Neither military nor civil pomp was wanting. The avenues were lined with grenadiers. The streets were kept clear by cavalry. The gray old walls were hung with scarlet. The long galleries were crowded by such an audience as rarely has excited the fears or emula tion of an orator. There were gathered together, from all parts of a great, free, enlightened and pros perous realm, grace and female loveliness, wit and learning, the representatives of every science and every art. There were seated around the queen the fair-haired daughters of the house of Brunswick. There the ambassadors of great kings and common wealths gazed with admiration on a spectacle which no other country in the world could present. There Siddons, in the prime of her majestic beauty, looked with emotion on a scene surpassing all the imitations of the stage. There the historian of the Roman Em- rjire thought of the days when Cicero pleaded the cause of Sicily against Verres ; and when, before a Senate which had still some show of freedom, Tacitus thundered against the oppressor of Africa. There were seen, side by side, the greatest painter and the greatest scholar of the age. The spectacle had allured Reynolds from that easel which has preserved to us the thoughtful foreheads of so many writers and statesmen and the sweet smiles of so many noble matrons. It had induced Parr to sus pend his labors in that dark and profound mine from which he had extracted a vast treasure of erudition a treasure too often buried in the earth, too often paraded with injudicious and ine^gant ostentation ; but still precious, massive and splendid. There ap peared the voluptuous charms of her to whom the heir of the throne had in secret plighted his faith. There, too, was she, the beautiful mother of a beauti ful race, the Saint Cecilia, whose delicate features, lighted up by love and music, art has rescued from the common decay. There were the members of that brilliant society which quoted, criticised and exchanged repartees, under the rich peacock hangings of Mrs. Montague. And there the ladies, whose lips, more persuasive than those of Fox himself, had carried the Westminster election against palace and treasury, shone around Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire. There stood Fox and Sheridan, the English Demos thenes and the English Hyperides. There was Burke, ignorant, indeed, of the art of adapting his reason ings and hk style to the capacity of his hearers , baft in aptitude of comprehension and richness of imagina tion superior to every orator, ancient ot modem. LORD MACAl LAY. PERORATION IN THE ORATION AGAINST WARREN HASTINGS. ffi Y lords, at this awful close, in the name of the Commons, and surrounded by them, L attest the retiring, I attest the advancing generations, between which, as a link in the great chain of eternal order, we stand. We call this nation, we call the world to witness, that the Com mons have shrunk from no labor ; that we have been guilty of no prevarication ; that we have made no compromise with crime ; that we have feared no odium whatsoever in the long warfare we have carried on with the crimes with the vices with the exorbi tant wealth with the enormous and overpowering hv fluence of Eastern corruption. This war, my lords, we have waged for twenty-two years, and the conflict has been fought, at your lordship's bar, for the last seven years. My lords, twenty-two years is a great space in the scale of the life of man ; it is no inconsiderable space in the history of a great nation. A business which has so long occupied the councils and the tribunals of Great Britain cannot possibly be huddled over in the course of vulgar, trite and transitory events. Nothing but some of those great revolutions, that break the tra ditionary chain of" iiuman memory, and alter the very face of nature itself, can possibly obscure it. My lords, we are all elevated to a degree of importance by it ; the meanest of us will, by means of it, more or less, become the concern of posterity if we are yet to hope for such a thing, in the present state of the world, as a recording, retrospective, civilized posterity ; but this is in the hand of the great Disposer of events ; it is not ours to settle how it shall be. My lords, your house yet stands ; it stands as a great ediflce ; but let me say, it stands in the midst of ruins in the midst of the ruins that have been made by the greatest moral earthquake that ever convulsed or shattered this globe of ours. My lords, it has pleased Providence to place us in such a state, that we appear every moment to be upon the verge of some great mutations. There is one thing and onethingonly, which defies all mutation, that which existed before the world, and will survive the fabric of the world itself I mean justice : that justice which, emanating from Divinity, has a place in the breast of every one of us, given us for our guide with regard to ourselves and with regard to others, and which will stand, after this globe is burned to ashes, our advocate or our accuser before the great Judge, when He comes to call upon us for the tenor of a well- spent life. My lords, if you must fall, may you so fall ! but if you stand and stand I trust you will together with the fortune of this ancient monarchy together with MASTERPIECES OF ELOQUENCE. 681 the ancient laws and liberties of this great and illustrious kingdom may you stand as unimpeached in honor as in power ; may you stand, not as a substitute for vir tue, but as an ornament of virtue, as a security for virtue ; may you stand long, and long stand the terror of tyrants ; may you stand the refuge of afflicted nations ; may you stand a sacred temple, for the per petual residence of an inviolable justice. EDMUND BORKE. UNIVERSALITY OF CONSCIENCE T"T7 HIS theology of conscience has been greatly \ I I obscured, but never, in any country, or ai any JL period in the history of the world, has it been wholly obliterated. We behold the vestiges of it in the simple theology of the desert ; and, per haps, more distinctly there, than in the complex superstitions of an artificial and civilized heathenism. In confirmation of this, we might quote the invoca tions to the Great Spirit from the wilds of North America. But, indeed, in every quarter of the globe, where missionaries have held converse with savages, even with the rudest of nature's children when speak ing on the topics of sin and judgment, they did not speak to them in vocables unknown. And as this sense of a universal law and a Supreme Lawgiver never waned into total extinction among the tribes of ferocious and untamed wanderers so neither was it altogether stifled by the refined and intricate poly theism of more enlightened nations. When the guilty Emperors of Rome were tempest-driven by remorse and fear, it was not that they trembled before a spectre of their own imagination. When terror mixed, which it often did, with the rage and cruelty of Nero, it was the theology of conscience which haunted him. It was not the suggestion of a capri cious fancy which gave him the disturbance but a voice issuing from the deep recesses of a moral nature, as stable and uniform throughout the species as is the material structure of humanity ; and in the lineaments of which we may read that there is a moral regimen among men, and therefore a moral governor who hath instituted, and who presides over it. Therefore it was that these imperial despots, the worst and haughtiest of recorded monarchs, stood aghast at the spectacle of their own worthlessness. This is not a local or a geographical notion. It is a universal feeling to be found wherever men are found, because interwoven with the constitution of humanity. It is not, therefore, the peculiarity of one creed or of one country. It circulates at large throughout the family of man. We can trace it in the theology of savage life ; nor is it wholly overborne by the artificial theology of a more complex and idola trous paganism. Neither crime nor civilization can extinguish it; and, whether in the "conscientia scelerum " of the fierce and frenzied Catiline, or in the tranquil contemplative musings of Socrates and Cicero, we fina the impression of at once a righteous and reigning Sovereign. THOMAS CHALMERS. ON PARLIAMENTARY REFORM. IT is asked, whether liberty has not gained much of late years, and whether the popular branch ought not therefore to be content? To this, I answer, that, if liberty has gained much, power ha? gained more. Power has been indefatigable, and unwearied in its encroachments ; everything has run in that direction through the whole course of the present reign. Nothing, therefore, I say, has been gained to the people, whilst the constant current has run toward* the crown ; and God knows what is to be the conse quence, both to the crown and the country. I believa we are come to the last moment of possible remedy. I believe that at this moment the enemies of both are few ; but I firmly believe, that what has been seen in Ireland, will be experienced also here ; and that, if we are to go in the same career with convention bills and acts of exasperation of all kinds, the few will soon become the many, and that we shall have to pay a severe retribution for our present pride. What a noble lord said some time ago of France, may be applicable to this very subject. What, said he, negotiate with France ? With men, whose hands are reeking with the blood of their sovereign ? What, shall we degrade ourselves by going to Paris, and there asking in humble diplomatic language to be on good understanding with them ? Gentlemen will remember these lofty words; and yet we have come to this humiliation ; we have negotiated with France ! and I shall not be surprised to see the noble lord himself going to Paris, not at the head of his regiment, but on a diplomatic commission to those very regicides, to pray to be on a good understanding with them. Shall we then be blind to the lessons, which the events of the world exhibit to our view ? Pride, obstinacy, and insult, must end in concessions, and those concessions must be humble in proportion to our unbecoming pride. CHARLES JAMES FOX. DEMAND FOR JUSTICE TO IRELAND. IWILL never be guilty of the crime of despairing of my country ; and to-day, after two centuries of suffering, here I stand amidst you in this haft, repeating the same complaints, demanding the same justice which was claimed by our fathers ; but no longer with the humble voice of the suppliant, but with the sentiment of our force and the conviction that Ireland will henceforth find means to do, without you, what you shall have refused to do for her ! I make no compromise with you ; I want the same rights for us that you enjoy ; the same municipal system for Ireland as for England and Scotland : other wise, what is a union with you ? A union upon parch- 682 MASTERPIECES OF ELOQUENCE. Bient t Well, we will tear this parchment to pieces, and the Empire will be sundered ! I hear, day after day, the plaintive voice of Ireland, crying, Am I to be kept forever waiting and forever suffering ? No, fellow-countrymen, you will be left to suffer no longer : you will not have in vain asked justice from a people of brothers. England is no longer that country of prejudices where the mere name of popery excited every breast and impelled to iniquitous cruelties. The representatives of Ireland have carried the Reform bill, which has enlarged the franchises of the English people ; they will be heard with favor in asking their colleagues to render justice to Ireland. But should it prove otherwise, should Parliament still continue deaf to our prayer, then we will appeal to the English nation, and if the nation too should suffer itself to be blinded by its prejudices, we will enter the fastnesses of our mountains and take counsel but of our energy, our courage, and our despair. DANIEL O'CONNELL. DEFENCE FROM THE CHARGE OF TYRANNY. I THEY call me a tyrant ! If I were so, they would fall at my feet : I should have gorged them with gold, assured them of impunity to their crimes, and they would have worshipped me. Had I been so, the kings whom we have con quered would have been my most cordial supporters. It is by the aid of scoundrels you arrive at tyranny. Whither tend those who combat them ? To the tomb and immortality ! Who is the tyrant that protects me ? What is the faction to which I belong ? It is yourselves ! What is the party which, since the com mencement of the Revolution, has crushed all other factions has annihilated so many specious traitors ? It is yourselves ; it is the people ; it is the force of principles ! This is the party to which I am devoted, and against which crime is everywhere leagued. I am ready to lay down my life without regret. I have seen the past : I foresee the future. What lover of his country would wish to live, when he can no longer succor oppressed innocence ? Why should he desire to remain in an order of things where intrigue eternally triumphs over truth where justice is deemed an imposture where the vilest passions, the most ridiculous fears, fill every heart, instead of the sacred interests of humanity? Who can bear the punish ment of seeing the horrible succession of traitors, more or less skilful in concealing their hideous vices under the mask of virtue, and who will leave to posterity the difficult task of determining which was the most atrocious ? In contemplating the multitude of vices which the Revolution has let loose pell-mell with the civic virtues, I own I sometimes fear that I myself shall be sullied in the eyes of posterity by. their calumnies. But 1 am consoled by the reflection that, if I have seen in history all the defenders of liberty ore*, whelmed by calumny. I have seen their oppressors die also. The good and the bad disappear alike from the earth ; but in very different conditions. No, Chau mette ! "Death is not an eternal sleep!" Citizens, efface from the tombs that maxim, engraven by sacrilegious hands, which throws a funeral pall over nature, which discourages oppressed innocence : write rather, "Death is the commencement of immortality !" I leave to the oppressors of the people a terrible legacy, which well becomes the situation in which I am placed ; it is the awful truth, "Thou shalt die ! " ROBESPIERRE. THE CRATER OF VESUVIUS. TTTHE first thing that I came upon here was the A I L great crater of the eruption of 1794 now J. dry and scorious, and black as a bosom in which sensual passion has burnt itself to ex haustion. Though crusted over and closed, it was steaming and smoking through sundry apertures. Traversing it, I arrived at the large crater of 1 850 a still raw and open ulcer of earth. The wind was blowing from us, and the circumstances were favorable for viewing the cavity. It was filled with a dense volume of white gas, which was whirling and rapidly ascending ; but the breeze occasionally drove it to the opposite side and disclosed the depths of the frightful chasm. It descended a prodigious distance, in the shape of an inverted, truncated cone, and then termi nated in a circular opening. The mysteries of the profound immensity beyond, no human eye might see, no human heart conceive. We hurled some stones into the gulf and listened till they struck below. The guide gravely assured me that ten minutes elapsed before the sound was heard ; I found, by the watch, that the interval was, in reality, something over three-quarters of a minute ; and that seems almost incredibly long. When the vapor, at intervals, so far thinned away that one could see across, as through a vista, the opposite side of the crater, viewed athwart the mist, seemed several miles distant, though in fact but a few hundred feet. The interior of the shelving crater was entirely covered over with a bed of knob-like blossoms of brilliant white, yellow, green, red, brown the sulphurous flowers of hell. I cannot describe this spectacle, for, in impression and appearance, alike, it resembles nothing else that I have seen before or since. It was like death which has no similitudes in life. It was like a vision of the second death. As the sun gleamed at times through the white breath that swayed and twisted about the maw of the accursed monstrosity, there seemed to be an activity in the vaulted depth ; but it was the activity of shadows in the concave of nothingness. It seemed the emblem of destruction, itself, extinct. There was something about it revoltingly beautiful, dis gustingly splendid. One while, its circling rim looked! MASTERPIECES OF ELOQUENCE. 683 ke the parched shore of the ever-absorbing and ever- empty sea of annihilation. Another while, it seemed like a fetid cancer on the breast of earth, destined one day to consume it. To me it was purely uncomfortable and wholly uninspiring. It seemed to freeze back fancy and sentiment to their sources. It was not terrible, it was merely horrible. It is a thing to see once, but I eare not to see such a thing again in this world ; and Jesus grant that I may see nothing like it in the next. HORACE B. WALLACE. ON THE FUNERAL OF HENRIETTA. ris not surprising that the memory of a great queen the daughter, the wife, the mother of monarchs should attract you from all quarters to this melancholy ceremony ; it will bring forcibly before your eyes one of those awful examples which demonstrate to the world the vanity of which i* ; s com posed. You will see in her single life the extremes of things : felicity without bounds, miseries without parallel ; a Jong and peaceable enjoyment of one of the most noble crowns in the universe all that birth and grandeur could confer that was glorious all that adversity and suffering could accumulate that was disastrous ; the good cause attended at first with some success, then involved in the most dreadful disasters. Revolutions Unheard of, rebellion long restrained, at length reigned triumpl'-tnt ; no curb there to license, no laws in force. Majesty itself violated by bloody hands usurpation and t> ,-anny, under the name of liberty a fugitive <\aeen, who can find no retreat in her three kingdoms, \tid was forced to seek in her native country a melancholy exile. Nine sea-voyages undertaken gainst her will by a queen, in spite of wintry tempests -a throne unworthily overturned, and miraculously e-established. Behold the lesson which God has given to kings ! 4ms does He manifest to the world the nothingness if its pomp and grandeur. If our words fail, if lan- juase sinks beneath the grandeur of such a subject, the simple narrative is more touching than aught that words can convey. The heart of a great queen, formerly elevated by so long a course of prosperity, (hen steeped in all the bitterness of affliction, will speak in sufficiently touching language ; and if it is not given to private individuals to teach the proper lessons from so mournful a catastrophe, the King of Israel has supplied the words "Hear. ye great of the .-arth ' Take lesson, ye rulers of the world ! ' ' SUET. HAVE somewhere read of a regiment ordered to march into a small town, and take it. I think it was in the Tyrol ; but, wherever it was, it chanced that the place was settled by a colony *ho believed the Gospel of Christ, and proved their faith by works. A courier from a neighboring village informed them that troops were advancing to take the town. They quietly answered, ' ' If tkay will tak it, they must" Soldiers soon came riding in, with colors flying, and fifes piping their shrill defiance. Thej looked around for an enemy, and saw the farmer at his plough, the blacksmith at his anvil, and the women at their churns and spinning-wheels. Babies crowed to hear the music, and boys ran out to see the pretty trainers, with feathers and bright buttons 14 the harlequins of the nineteenth century." Of course none of these were in a proper position to be shot at. "Where are your soldiers?" they asked. "We have none," was the brief reply. "But we have come to take the town." "Well, friends, it lies before you. " " But is there nobody here to fight ? " " No : we are all Christians." Here was an emergency altogether unprovided for a sort of resistance which no bullet could hit, a fortress perfectly bomb-proof. The commander was perplexed. " If there is nobody to fight with, of course we cannot fight," said he : " it is impossible to take such a town as this." So he ordered the horses' heads to be turned about, and they carried the human ^uiimals out of the village as guiltless as they entered, and per chance somewhat wiser. This experiment, on a small scale, indicates how i easy it would be to dispense with armies and navies, ! if men only had faith in the religion they profess to believe. LYDIA MARIA CHILD. JOHN DAVENPORT'S INFLUENCE UPON NEW HAVEN. pF we of this city enjoy, in this respect, any peculia* privileges if it is a privilege that any poor man A here, with ordinary health in hie family, and the ordinary blessing of God upon his industry, may give to his son, without sending him away from home, the best education which the country affords if it ia a privilege to us to live in a city in which learning, sound and thorough education, is, equally with com merce and the mechanic arts, a great public interest if it is a privilege to us to record among our fellow- citizens some of the brightest names in the learning and science, not of our country only, but of the age, and to be conversant with such men, and subject to their constant influence in the various relations of society if it is a privilege that our young mechanics, in their associations, can receive instruction in popular lectures from the most accomplished teachers if, in a word, there is any privilege in having our home at one of the fountains of life for this vast confederacy the privilege may be traced to the influence of John Davenport, to the peculiar character which he. more than any other man, gave to this community in its very beginning. Every one of us is daily enjoying the effects of his wisdom and public spirit. Thus he is to-day our benefactor ; and thus he is to be the 684 MASTERPIECES OF ELOQUENCE. benefactor of our posterity through ages to come. How aptly might that beautiful apostrophe of one of our poets have been addressed to him : *' The good begun by thee shall onward flow In many a branching stream, and wider grow ; The seed that in these few and fleeting hours, 'i'hy hands, unsparing and unwearied, sow, Shall deck thy grave with amaranthine flowers, Ai*d yield thee fruit divine in heaven's immortal bowers.' ' LEONARD BACON. WRONGS OF IRELAND. EREAFTER, when these things shall be his tory, your age of thraldom and poverty, your sudden resurrection, commercial redress, and miraculous armament, shall the historian stop 4o declare, that here the principal men amongst us fell into mimic traces of gratitude : they were awed by a weak ministry, and bribed by an empty treasury ; and when liberty was within their grasp, and the temple opened her folding-doors, and the arms of the people clanged, and the zeal of the nation urged and en couraged them on, that they fell down, and were prostituted at the threshold. I will not be answered by a public lie in the shape of an amendment : neither, speaking for the subjects' freedom, am I to hear of faction. I wish for nothing but to breathe in this our island, in common with my fellow-subjects, the air of liberty ; I have no ambition, unless it be the ambition to break your chains, and contemplate your glory. I never will be satisfied as long as the meanest cottager in Ireland has a link of British chain clanking in his rags : he may be naked, he shall not be in irons. And I do see the time is at band, the spirit is gone forth, the declaration is planted : and though great men should apostatize, yet the cause will live : and though the public speaker should die. yet the immortal fire shall outlast the organ which conveyed it, and the breath of liberty, like the word of the holy man, shall not die with the prophet, but survive him. HENRY GRATTAN. THE RURAL DISTRICTS OUR COUNTRY'S STRENGTH. E importance of the progress and improve- ment of the country towns is plain, when we consider that here, and not in the great cities New York, or Boston, or Philadelphia are the hope, strength, and glory of our nation. Here, in the smaller towns and villages, are indeed the majority of the people, and here there is a weight of sober thought, just judgment, and virtuous feeling, that will serve as rudder and ballast to our country, Whatever weather may betide. As I have so recently travelled through some of the inest and most renowned portions of the European continent, I find myself constantly comparing the towns and villages which I see here with those foreign ands. One thing is clear, that there are in continental Europe no such country towns and villages as those of New England and some other portions of this country. Not only the exterior but the interior is totally different. The villages there resemble the qualid suburbs of a city ; the people are like their bouses poor and subservient narrow in intellect, feeling, and habits of thought. I know twenty towns in France, having from two to ten thousand inhab itants, where, if you except the prefects, mayors, notaries, and a few other persons in each place, there is scarcely a family that rises to the least independence of thought, or even a moderate elevation of character. All the power, all the thought, all the genius, all the expanse of intellect, are centered at Paris. The blood of the country is drawn to this seat and centre, leaving the limbs and members cold and pulseless as those of a corpse. How different is it in this country ! The life, vigor, power of these United States are diffused through a thousand veins and arteries over the whole people, every limb nourished, every member invigorated I New York, Philadelphia, and Boston do not give law to this country ; that comes from the people the farmers, mechanics, manufacturers, merchants in dependent in their circumstances, and sober, religious, virtuous in their habits of thought and conduct. I make allowance for the sinister influence of vice which abounds in some places ; for the debasing effects of demagogisia in our politicians ; for the corruption of selfish and degrading interests, cast into the general current of public feeling and opinion. I admit that these sometimes make the nation swerve, for a time, from the path of wisdom ; but the wandering is neither wide nor long. The preponderating national mind is just and sound, and, if danger comes, it will manifest its power and avert it. SAMUEL Q GOODKICH. LIFE ON THE NILE. The life thou seek'st Thon'H find beside the eternal Nile. MOORE'S ALCIPHR9H. E Nile is the Paradise of travel. I thought I had already fathomed all the depths of enjoyment which the traveller's restless life could reach enjoyment more varied and ex citing, but far less serene and enduring, than that of a quiet home ; but here I have reached a fountain too pure and powerful to be exhausted. I never before experienced such a thorough deliverance from all the petty annoyances of travel in other lands, such perfect contentment of spirit, such entire abandonment to the best influences of nature. Every day opens with a jubilee, and closes with a thanksgiving. If such u MASTERPIECES OF F,U)QUENCE. balm ^nd blessing as this life has been to me, thu far, can be felt twice in one's existence, there must bt another Nile somewhere in the world. Other travellers undoubtedly make other experiences and take away other impressions. I can even conceive circumstances which would almost destroy the pleas ure of the journey. The same exquisitely sensitive temperament, which in our case has not been dis turbed by a single untoward incident, might easily be kept in a state of constant derangement by an un sympathetic companion, a cheating dragoman, or a fractious crew. There are also many trifling disagree ments, inseparable from life in Egypt, which some would consider a source of annoyance ; but, as we fine fewer than we were prepared to meet, we are not troubled thereby. Our manner of life is simple, and might even be called monotonous ; but we have never found the greatest variety of landscape and incident so thoroughly enjoyable. The scenery of the Nile, thus far, scarcely changes from day to day, in its forms and colors, but only in their disposition with regard to each other. The shores are either palm-groves, fields of cane and dourra, young wheat, or patches of bare sand blown out from the desert. The villages are all the same agglomerations of mud walls, the tombs of the Moslem saints are the same white ovens, and every individual camel and buffalo resembles its neighbor in picturesque ugliness. The Arabian and Libyan Mountains, now sweeping so far into the foreground that their yellow cliffs overhang the Nile, now receding into the violet haze of the horizon, exhibit little difference of height, hue, or geological formation. Every new scene is the turn of a kaleidoscope, in which the same objects are grouped in other relations, yet always characterized by the most perfect harmony. These slight yet ever-renewing changes are to us a eource of endless delight Either from the pure atmosphere, the healthy life we lead, or the accordant tone of our spirits, we find ourselves unusually sensi tive to all the slightest touches, the most minute rays, of that grace and harmony which bathes every land scape in cloudless sunshine. The various groupings of the palms, the shifting of the blue evening shadows on the rose-hued mountain-walls, the green of the wheat and sugar-cane, the windings of the great river, the alternations of wind and calm each of these is enough to content us, and to give every day a different charm from that which went before. We meet con trary winds, calms, and sand-bags, without losing 3ur patience ; and even our excitement in the swiftness and grace with which our vessel scuds before the north wind_ is mingled with a regret that our journey is drawing so much the more swiftly to its close. A portion of the old Egyptian repose seems to be in fused into our natures ; and lately, when I saw my lace in a mirror, I thought I perceived in its features something of the patience and resignation of the sphinx, BAYARD TAYLOR. OXFORD BOAT-RACE. OINGr into Christ Church Meadows, in com- pany with several gownsmen, we soon joined a crowd of under-grz*S SON RESTORED TO LIFE.-I Kings xvii. . BIBLE STORIES FOR THE YOUNG. 15 GOD APPEARING TO ELIJAH. i Kings xix. n, is. ELIJAH AT MOUNT HOREB. Elijah in his flight from Jezebel, who was seeking his life because he showed how false was the religion of her prophets, came to a juniper tree in the desert. Here an angel brought him food that gave him strength for forty days. He con tinued his flight to a rocky mount named Horeb. Here he lodged in a cave word of the Lord asked him what he was doing there. He replied that he had been very jealous for the religion of the God of Israel, had thrown down the altars of false prophets, and his enemies were now seeking his life. He was directed to go and stand on the mount. A strong wind rent the mountains and broke the rock in pieces, but the Lord was not in the wind. After this came an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. Then a fire appeared, but the Lord was not in this. When all these had passed there came a still, small voice, and the prophet knew that God was there. He was directed to return and finish the work that had been given him to do. and the THE CHARIOT OF ELIJAH. We are told that the manner of Elijah's departure from the earth was in keeping with his extraordinary career. He had made a powerful impression upon the nation, remark able deeds had been performed by him, and when his earthly life was ended he was translated without suffering death. He and Elisha were walking together, and Elisha expressed the earnest desire that a double portion of the spirit of his friend and companion might rest upon himself. Elijah replied that this was a hard thing to be granted, but if Elisha should see him when he departed, the blessing which was sought might be obtained. Sud denly there appeared a chariot of fire, with flaming steeds, and Elijah was soon lost to view. Elisha exclaimed, " My father, my father, the chariot of Israel, and the horse men thereof! " The chariot and horsemen were emblems of power and victory, and the exclamation meant that Elijah was the great helper and defender of Israel. His mantle, fell toward the earth, and Elisha secured it. THE TRANSLATION OF ELIJAH a Kings ii. u 16 BIBLE STORIES FOR THE YOUNG. DANIEL IN THE LIONS' DEN. Dan. vi. 19, 30. DANIEL AMONG THE LIONS. At the time of the captivity, when the greater part of the Jewish nation was carried away to Babylon, a remarkable youth was among the number. Daniel secured the favor of the king of Babylon by his interpretation of dreams, and his sturdy, upright character. He believed in the religion of the Hebrews, and when com manded to cease performing his re ligious duties for a certain number of days, he flatly refused. Some jealousy had been excited against him on account of the power he had gained in the nation, and his enemies thought they would obtain ad vantage over him by forbidding him to pray, under penalty of being cast into a den of lions. The king's heart was troubled, but having signed the law he was resolved to carry it into execution. Daniel was cast to the wild beasts, and early in the morning the king hastened to see what was his fate. Daniel assured him that his God was able to shut the mouths of lions, and, by his angel, had already done it, so that he was unharmed. JUDITH AND HOLOFERNLS. Ju dith was a Hebrew woman of strong will, great decision of character, and, in her blind zeal, capable of any deed which she thought would promote her religion and confound God's enemies. She was even ready to take human life, and commit the crime of murder, under pretence of thereby accomplishing some good. Holofernes was considered to be the enemy of her nation, and believing she had authority to de stroy all such she took his life. Pre tending to be friendly, she gained access to his tent, fascinated him by her beauty and wit, gained his con fidence by fair speeches, and soon had him completely in her power. When he was under the influence of wine she took down his falchion, and with a double blow severed his head from the body, and handed it over to her maid. Her plot had succeeded, and her deed was ap plauded by her own people. When they saw her at the gate of the city with the head of Holofernes, they praised God for thus deliver ing them from the hand of their enemy. JUDITH BEHEADS HOLOFERNES. Judith xiii. 9, ZO. JUDGMENT OP SOLOMON. BIBLE STORIES FOR THE YOUNG. BIRTH OF JOHN THE BAPTIST. Luke i. 6a-4o JOHN THE BAPTIST. It was foretold by the people, prophet Malachi that previous to the advent that a of Christ a forerunner, or prophet, would appear to prepare the way for him. His duty would be to call the people to repentance, and announce that the kingdom of God was at hand. During the reign of King Herod in Judaea there was a priest named Zacharias; the name of his wife was Elizabeth. An angel appeared to Zacharias one day in the Temple, and announced that he would have a son, and was to give him the name of John. Zacharias was told that he would be unable to speak until the child was born. The people wondered why the priest remained so long in the Temple, and when he came out they saw that he was dumb. The promised son was born, and when he was eight days old he was brought to the Temple. The people wished to name him after his father, but the mother insisted upon calling him Jolin. They objected because none of his kindred bore that name, but Zacharias wrote on a tablet that John was to be the child's name. M THE AiNur.jL ANNOUNCES THE SAVIOUR'S BIRTH. In Judaea, near the village of Bethlehem, there were shepherds who watched their flocks by night. The time had come for Christ to be born. As far back as the days of Adam and Eve the Divine assurance had been given that the seed of the woman should bruise the head of the serpent, and sin would be destroyed. The birth of John the Baptist was the sure sign that one greater than John would soon come. As the shep herds were guarding their flocks one night an angel suddenly visited them. They were afraid, but were told by the angel not to fear, for a message of great joy had been sent to them, which was to be for all The happy announcement was made Saviour was born in Bethlehem. Suddenly a multitude of the heavenly host appeared, praising God, and saying, " Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men." The shepherds hastened to Bethlehem, and, to their surprise and joy, found that what the angel told them was true. THE ANGEL AND SHEPHERDS. Luke ii. 10, 11. BIBLE STORIES FOR THE YOUNG. THE BIRTH OF CHRIST. Luke ii. i-x. THE NATIVITY. The shepherds who had heard the song of the angels and the statement that a Saviour had been born, left their flocks and went to Bethlehem to see what had come to pass. Naturally excited over the glad tidings brought to them, they made haste, and when they arrived in the village they were re warded by a sight of the new-born child. There they found Mary and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger. The shepherds having satisfied themselves of the truth of the mes sage brought by the angel, hurried away with the joyful news, and spread the glad tidings to others. All who heard what had happened were filled with wonder. We are told that Mary, the mother of Jesus, kept these things in her heart, and thought about them. The shep herds returned to their flocks, glo rifying and praising God for all the things they had seen and heard. This is the beautiful description given us of the birth of Jesus. Every Christmas we celebrate the advent of Christ, whose name is Wonderful. THE FLIGHT INTO EGYPT. The parents of Jesus brought him to the Temple at Jerusalem. They could not remain there ; their first concern was to save the young life committed to their love and care. They knew the cruelty of Herod, and his wicked design to slay the children, in the hope that Jesus would be among the number. They obeyed the Divine warning, and taking their young treasure fled with all possible speed to Egypt, a country which was outside of Herod's dominions. There was a place of safety, and having reached it, they remained until the death of Herod put an end to his ambition and cruelty. Then the angel of the Lord appeared again unto Joseph, assured him that those who sought the life of the child were dead, and directed him to return to his own country. He did so, and made his home in the despised town of Nazareth, where the early life of Jesus was spent Thus the prophecies were fulfilled that Israel's ruler would come out of Egypt and would be a de spised Nazarene, one of the poor and lowly. THE FLIGHT INTO EGYPT.-MaU. ii. 14, 15, BIBLE STORIES FOR THE YOUNG. DEATH OF THE CHILDREN OF BETHLEHEM. Matt. ii. 16. PUTTING THE CHILDREN TO DEATH. It was expected by Herod that the wise men who were seeking the child, whose name, ac- o cording to the prophet Isaiah, was Wonderful, would return to him at Jerusalem after their visit to Bethlehem. They found the mar velous babe, presented their gifts, and wor shipped at His feet. They did not return, however, to Jerusalem. The history tells us that they were warned by God in a dream not to go back to Herod, and so they departed to their own country by another way. This apparent slight on the part of the wise men made Herod very angry ; it looked very much as if one had been born who was expected to be come king of the Jews. He gave orders for all the male children in Bethlehem and in all the borders thereof to be put to death. There was great sorrow in the land, and the prophecy of Jeremiah was ful filled that the: would be weeping and mourning. The object of the horrible massucre was not accom plished, although many lives were sacrificed. JESUS BROUGHT TO THE TEMPLE, As already stated, when Jesus was eight days old His parents brought Him to the Temple to make an offering of two pigeons, accord ing to Jewish custom. There was a good old man at Jerusalem named Simeon. It had been revealed to him by the Spirit that he should not die until he had seen Jesus. He was directed to go to the Temple, and when Joseph and Mary appeared with their child, Simeon knew that he was to be gratified by a sight of the infant Saviour. The old man took the child in his arms, blessed God, and said, " Now lettestThou Thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen Thy salvation." The parents of Jesus wondered at the things which were spoken concerning Him. Simeon blessed the child, and told His mother that through Him many would receive a blessing, while a woe would come to others. A prophetess, named Anna, was also present, and she, too, gave thanks. The Jews had the happy custom of taking young children to the Temple. THE PRESENTATION IN THE TEMPLE Luke ii. 27, aft. 20 BIBLE STORIES FOR THE YOUNG. CHRIST TEACHES IN THE TEMPLE.-Luke ii. 46, 47* CHRIST IN THE TEMPLE. The most im portant feast of the Jews was the Passover, and the parents of Jesus were accustomed to go to Jerusalem every year to attend it. When Jesus was twelve years old He accompanied His parents. After the feast was over they started to return to their home, but He remained be hind. It was not long before they missed Him, but supposed He was in com pany with their relatives, who were with them on the journey. Failing to find Him, they became very anxious, and went back to Jeru salem in search of Him. After three days they discovered Him in the Temple talking with the learned doctors, and showing such wisdom as astonished His hearers. They were amazed that one so young should have such knowledge and understanding of the Scriptures. When His parents asked Him why He had forsaken them, He replied : "Do you not know that I must be about my Father's business ? " Thus early in life He showed the spirit of obedience to His Father's will, and set us a good example. JESUS AND THE MoNEvr-Cn ANGERS. At the feast of the Passover offer ings were made as a part of worship, and persons who desired to make a profit by the sale of animals offered in sacrifice had gone to the Temple, taken possession of the court of the Gentiles, and converted it into a place for buying and selling. There were also those who made a busi ness of exchanging Roman money for Jewish money, and gained some thing by the transaction. Jesus was very indignant when He found that one part of the Temple was used for a market. Seeing those who were engaged in the business of selling offerings and changing money, He made a whip of small cords, and drove them out, telling them it was written that the house of God should be a place of prayer, but they had made it a den of thieves. The tables were overturned, the money was poured on the ground, the animals were driven away, and all unlawful traffic ceased in the courts of the Lord's house. He had a better right to drive out the " thieves " than they had to carry on their trade there. JESUS DRIVES OUT THE MONEY-CHANGERS. John ii. 15, 16. BIBLE STORIES FOR THE YOUNG. 21 CHRIST TEACHES NICODEMUS. John iii. 2,3, CHRIST AND NICODEMUS. One of the rulers of the Jews, a man named Nicodemus, came to Jesus one night to learn more of Him and His doctrine. Jesus began at once to instruct him, told him many things he did not know before, and some things hard to be understood, among them the mystery of the new birth. When Nicodemus was not able to fully .stand what was said to him, Jesus spoke of something that happened a long time before when the chil dren of Israel were in the wilder ness. The people had been bitten by poisonous serpents, and to save them from death Moses was di rected to make a brazen 'serpent, place it on a pole in the camp where all could see it, and those who looked upon it would be healed. Just so, said Jesus to Nicodemus, the Son of man must be lifted up, and those who turn the eye of faith to Him will receive the blessing of life and forgiveness. We read of Nicodemus after this, and are told that he was among the friends of Jesus who stood by Him faithfully to the last. THE WOMAN OF SAMARIA. Jesus had been in Judaea, and was return ing to Galilee. On his way He passed through Samaria, and He and His disciples came to Jacob's well. Being weary with His jour ney, He sat down to rest while the disciples went into a village not far away to procure food. A woman of Samaria came to the well, and He asked for water to drink. The woman was surprised at this request because the Jews and Samaritans had no dealings with one another. Jesus made use of the water as an emblem of the water of life, assur ing the woman that those who drank of that would never thirst again. She asked that this water o might be given to her. Then He spoke of her past life, and by convincing her that He knew all about it, convinced her also that He was a prophet. She told Him she knew Messias would come, who is called Christ. He answered, "I that speak unto thee am He." Many people in the city be lieved on Him on account of what He said to this woman, and became His followers. CHRIST AND THE WOMAN OF SAMARIA. John iv. *.SS. BIBLE STORIES FOR THE YOUNG. CHRIST RAISES THE WIDOW'S SON. Luke vii. 14, 15. The THE WIDOW'S SON RESTORED TO LIFE. The Biblical narrative points in numerous instances to works of Christ which showed that He was possessed of all power. One day He came to the city of Nain, and was accom panied by His disciples and a large number of people. As He approached the gate of the city a funeral procession was passing out only son of a widowed mother had died, and the relatives and friends were on their way to bury him. The scene touched the heart of Jesus, and with great compassion and tenderness He said to the be reaved mother, " Weep not." He put His hand upon the bier, and those who were carrying it stood still. Then He said, " Young man, I say unto thee, arise ! " His omnip otent voice pierced the ear of death, and new life quivered through the body which a moment before was cold and stiff. The young man sat up, and began to speak. Jesus gave him back to his rejoicing mother. This miracle, which was performed in the presence of a large ompany, filled them with awe. THE DAUGHTER OF JAIRUS. A ruler of the synagogue, Jairus by name, came to Jesus and informed Him that his daughter was lying at the point of death, and requested Him to go to the house and lay His hands upon her that she might be healed. Soon certain persons ar rived who told Jairus that his daughter was already dead, and asked why he should trouble the Master any further. Jesus told him not to fear, but to believe. He took with him Peter, and James, and John, and went to the ruler's house, | where a number of persons were assembled. When Jesus asked why they wept, and assured them that the maid was not dead, but only asleep, they laughed Him to scorn. The first thing to do was to put the scoffers out of the house. This He did, and taking the father and mother, and the disciples who were with Him, He entered the room where the damsel was lying. Grasping her hand, He called upon her to arise. To the astonish ment of all she immediately obeyed, arose to her feet, and walked as well as ever. CHRIST RAISES THE DAUGHTER OF JAIRUS. Matt- v. BIBLE STORIES FOR THE YOUNG. 23 SENDING FORTH THE TWELVE APOSTLES. Matt. x. 5-7. THE TWELVE APOSTLES. The time had come for the glad tidings to be made known, and Jesus sent out His disciples, telling them to go first to the lost sheep of the house of Israel, because they were the chosen people of God, and the Gospel must be preached to them first. They were to announce that the kingdom of heaven was at hand. Power was given them to cure diseases, and do many other wonderful things. A good Providence would watch over them, and therefore they were not to take any money in their purses, nor were they to provide themselves with two coats. They were to go without shoes for their feet, and without even a staff for the journey. When they entered a city they were to find out who were worthy, and there make their abode. On enter ing a house they were to salute it, and their peace was to rest upon it, if it was worthy ; if not, the blessing of peace was not to be given. If they were not well received, they were to depart, and, as a sign of righteous resentment, they were to shake off the dust of their feet JESUS AND PETER ON THE WATER. Jesus had directed His disciples to get into a boat, and cross to the other side of the Sea of Galilee. The wind that night was high, and the disciples were in danger. During the fourth watch of the night, or some time after three o'clock in the morning, Jesus went to them, walking on the water. They saw Him, and were in great fear and trouble. They sup posed they had met a spirit, and they were alarmed. Jesus at once quieted them by saying, " Be of good cheer ; it is I ; be not afraid." Peter replied, " If it be Thou, bid me come unto Thee on the water." Jesus took him at his word, and told him to come. Peter stepped out of the boat and made the attempt, but finding Jie wind very boisterous, and the waves very high, his courage failed, and he began to sink. Jesus immediately stretched forth His hand and caught him ; and rebuked him for his lack of faith. When they had entered the boat the wind ceased, and the dis ciples worshipped Jesus, saying, " Of a truth Thou, art the Son of God." JESUS SAVES PETER FRQM SINKING. Matt. xiv. 30, 24 BIBLE STORIES FOR THE YOUNG. THE GOOD SAMARITAN. Luke x. 33, 34. THE GOOD SAMARITAN. A certain lawyer asked what a person was to do to inherit eternal life. Jesus told him to love God with all his might, and his neighbor as himself. The lawyer immediately asked, " Who is my neighbor ? " The reply was stated in the form of a parable, namely, that a man who was on his way from Jerusalem to Jericho fell among thieves, and was not only robbed, but was severely injured. The high waymen fled, leaving him half dead. A priest came along, a man who might have been expected to be friend a sufferer, but he passed by on the other side. A Levite did the same, and left the wounded man to his fate. Then came a Samar itan, and although the Samaritans had no dealings with the Jews, he took pity on the poor sufferer, had him conveyed to the nearest inn, directed that he should receive good care, promising on his return to pay all the expense. The lawyer saw at once from this story who was the neighbor, and was directed to go and show to others a similar spirit. THE LOST FOUND. We have here the picture of a wanderer who went away to another country. There he fell in with bad company, became a spendthrift, and at length his money was all wasted. A dis tressing famine came upon the country, and he was in great want ; he would have been glad to get the husks that were eaten by the swine, but no one gave him even these. His condition was very different from what it had been in the com fortable home he had forsaken. Having returned to his senses, he began to think of the hired servants in his father's house who had more than enough for all their wants, while he was perishing with hunger. He resolved to go back ; and when his father saw him coming he ran out to meet him, gave him the kiss of love, and welcomed him home. The best robe and ring were put upon him, and there was great rejoicing in the household. Nothing was too good for him now, for " he that was lost was found, and he that was dead was brought to life." Both father and son were happy THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL. SON.-Luke xv. THE NATIVITY. BIBLE STORIES FOR THE YOUNG. 25 JESUS BLESSING LITTLE CHILDREN. Mark x. " SUFFER LITTLE CHILDREN TO COME UNTO ME." The Jewish mothers naturally wished to bring their children to Jesus that they might receive His blessing. This was something that pleased Him, yet gave offence to His dis ciples. They appeared to think He could not be expected to take any notice of little chil dren, and so they attempted to prevent the mothers from gaining His attention, and were ready to rebuke those who were seeking His blessing. When Jesus saw this He was displeased. He knew that childhood, which is the forming period of the whole life, was not to be despised ; and, "resides, there was too much love in His heart to exclude even a little one. The words spoken by Him on this occasion are familiar to all readers of the Bible. Having said, " Suffer the little children to come unto me," He took them in His arms, put His loving hands upon them, and blessed them. The Jewish mothers vvere made very happy that day on account of the love shown by Jesus to the little ones, THE Box OF OINTMENT. Jesus came to Bethany, a little village a short distance from Jerusalem. There was the residence of Martha and Mary and Lazarus, in whose house He had frequently been a guest. Here, on this occasion, a feast was made for Him in the house of Simon, the leper. He received a beautiful expression of affection from Mary, who, we are told else where, had sat at His feet, heard His words, and chosen the good part which would not be taken away from her. Mary brought a box of ointment of spikenard, very pre cious, and anointed His head and feet. It appeared to the disciples to be simply a waste of money. 2 4 Jesus commended her act, saying she had come to anoint Him for His burial, which was near. She had done what she could, and this offering of her heart was grate fully accepted. Wherever the Gospel should be preached this anointing by Mary would be spoken of for a memorial of her. This has come true, for whoever has heard the Gospel has heard of this act of Mary of Bethany. MARY ANOINTING JESUS. -Mark xiv. 3. BIBLE STORIES FOR THE YOUNG. CHRIST'S ENTRY INTO JERUSALEM. Matt. xxi. 8,9. CHRIST WELCOMED WITH HOSANNAS. The narrative in the Gospels states that when Jesus and His disciples came nigh to Jerusalem, He sent two of them to bring Him a colt on which no man had ever riden. If the owner asked any questions, or made objection to their taking the colt, they were simply to say that the Lord had sent them. This proved to be sufficient, and having obtained the colt the disciples put their clothes on him and placed Jesus thereon. As He rode along He was greeted by a great multitude who spread their garments in the way, while others cut down branches from the jrees and strewed them in His path, seeking thus to show their respect. Crowds went before Him, and others followed. We are told that they cried, saying, " Hosanna to the Son of David ; blessed is He that cometh in the name of the Lord; ho- sanna in the highest ! " He passed through the gate, and found the people were greatly moved on ac count of His coming. His tri umphal entry was ended. Soon the sad cry was heard, "Away with Him!" WASHING THE DISCIPLES' FEET. There had been a dispute among the disciples as to who should be greatest, and Jesus wished to show them that His true followers are humble, and to serve is their highest calling. The Jews had the custom of washing the feet of their guests; this was something commonly done by the servants of the household. The last supper being over, Jesus took a towel and basin of water, and began to wash the feet of His dis ciples. Peter was surprised that Jesus should do such a thing, and said he would not allow it Jesus replied that although what He did now was not understood by Peter, it would be hereafter ; He also as sured the impulsive disciple that he could have no place in the new kingdom unless he was submissive, and willing to have this act of service performed. Peter then told Jesus to wash not only his feet, but also his hands and his head. Christ assured the dis ciples that He had done this to set them an example of humility, and show them how they ought to love and serve one another. CHRIST WASHES HIS DISCIPLES' FEET. John xiii. 3-5. BIBLE STORIES FOR THE YOUNG. 27 This THE END OF JUDAS ISCARIOT. Matt, xxvii. 3-5. A TRAITOR. There was one disciple who was unlike all the others. He was fond of money, and was willing to do anything to obtain it. This man betrayed Christ, and for thirty pieces of silver sold Him to the chief priests, and aided in His arrest and condemna tion. A sign was agreed upon between Judas and the men who came to take Jesus, sign was a kiss. When the hour arrived, and the men were ready to make the arrest, Judas went to Jesus, exclaimed, " Master, Master," and kissed Him. Jesus said to him, " Judas, dost thou betray me with a kiss ? " Then the men laid hands on Jesus and took Him. At this moment all the disciples left Him and fled. Judas, seeing now that his wicked act of betrayal would result in the death of Jesus, became alarmed, and bringing the thirty pieces of silver threw them down before the high priest, saying he had betrayed one who was innocent The history states that he then went away and hanged himself. No name is more despised than that of Judas Iscariot. CHRIST BEARING His CROSS. After Jesus was sentenced to death, the Roman soldiers took off His purple robe and put upon Him His own clothes. He was scourged, and was made the victim of every pos sible insult and indignity. The ex cited crowd jeered and mocked Him, and in derision called Him the king of the Jews. When the hour ar rived for Him to be put to death His cross was laid on Him, and He was led away to Golgotha, the place where criminals were executed. He was already weary with His suffer ings, and His strength was not equal to bearing the heavy load ; He sank down under it, exhausted and help less. A certain man named Simon, a Cyrenian, was there, and the mob laid hold of him, put the cross upon him, and made him carry it. A great company of people, including women, followed, and ex pressed the'r sorrow at the sufferings of one whom they had come to love. Jesus told the daughters of Jerusalem not to weep for him. Two thieves were in the company, who were also sentenced to death. CHRIST FALLS UNDER THE CROSS. Luke xxjij. 28 BIBLE STORIES FOR THE YOUNG. THE CRUCIFIXION. John xix. 28-30. CHRIST CRUCIFIED. In his last hour Jesus showed His love for His mother, and His anxiety for her future welfare. He asked her to henceforth look upon John as her son, and told John to regard her as his mother. John afterward took her to his own house, and gave her a home. After this Jesus said, " I thirst." A sponge filled with vinegar was offered Him. In the accompanying engraving may be seen an inscription of four letters written upon the cross ; the meaning of these is, " Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews " an inscription placed there in mockery. On each side of Him was one of the thieves who had also been condemned to death. One of them asked the Lord to remem ber him when He came into His kingdom. He was assured by Jesus that he would be in Paradise that day. One of the most remark able utterances of Christ on the cross was His dying prayer for His enemies, asking His Father to for give them, for they knew not what they did. The crucifixion lasted from the morning until the middle gf the afternoon. JESUS BURIED. I f was contrary to Jewish custom to allow the bodies of those who had been cruci fied to hang upon the cross over the Sabbath. A request was there fore made to Pilate, the Roman governor, that the body of Jesus, with those of the malefactors, should be removed. The soldiers came to break their legs, as was customary, but Jesus being already dead, His body was not molested, and so the prophecy was fulfilled that not a bone of Him should be broken. A rich man, Joseph by name, had a new tomb in a gar den near Golgotha, and having ob tained the body of Jesus, he wrapped it in fine linen, and laid it in his sepulchre. Jesus had said that after three days He would rise again; Pilate feared the disciples would come and take away the body, saying He had risen from the dead. To prevent this he sent soldiers to guard the sepulchre. They took every precaution to make the sepulchre safe. This was a sad ending to the life of Jesus, which was employed in doing good to others. THE BURIAL Of CHRIST. John xix. 41, 42- BIBLE STORIES FOR THE YOUNG. THE RESURRECTION. Matt, xxviii. 2-4. RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. The soldiers of Pilate who were sent to watch the tomb in which Jesus was laid met with a sudden fright. The narrative states that on the night of the third day after the crucifixion an angel came down from heaven and rolled the stone away from the door of the sepulchre. His counte nance was like lightning, and his raiment was white as snow. The keepers who were guarding the tomb shook with fear, and became as dead men. It was but natural that they should flee from the place. In the early morn ing some of the women who had been the firm friends of Jesus, and were mourning His death, came with spices to the sepulchre. To their surprise they found the stone rolled away, and as they entered they saw an angel clothed in white. The angel quieted them by bidding them not to fear, telling them he knew they were seeking Jesus. Then he assured them that He was risen, and asked them to come and see the place where the Lord lay. He then directed them to go and tell the glad news to the disciples. THE WOMEN AT THE TOMB. A full account is given of the visit to the sepulchre on the morning of the third day after Jesus was crucified. Mary Magdalene, Salome, and Mary the mother of James, all came to gether. It was a practice among the Jews to prepare the bodies of the dead for burial by anointing them. These women hastened to the tomb at the early dawn of the third day, bringing with them sweet spices. They knew a great stone had been placed at the door, and as they came near and looked, they were amazed to find that the stone was removed. They ventured in, and there on the right side saw a young man of startling appearance, clothed in a long white garment. They were frightened, but were told by the angel not to be afraid. Having assured them that the Lord had risen, and was not there, he sent them away to tell the disciples, Peter es pecially, that Jesus would go before them into Galilee, and they were to meet Him there. Quickly the women departed, for they trembled and were amazed. THE WOMEN AT THE TOMB OF CHRIST. Mark xvi. 5,6. 30 BIBLE STORIES FOR THE YOUNG. CHRIST APPEARS TO TWO OF HIS DISCIPLES. Luke xxiv. 35. THE WALK TO EMMAUS. On the day when the resurrection took place, it is related that two of the disciples went to Emnraus, a village a few miles from Jerusalem. While they were engaged in earnest conversation Jesus drew near and walked with them ; but they did not know Him. He asked them what they were conversing about, and why they appeared so sad. Cleopas inquired if He had not heard of the things that had come to pass. He asked, " What things ? " They answered, " Concerning Jesus of Nazareth." Then they spoke of the crucifixion, and said they had trusted that Jesus was the one who would redeem Israel. They also related the visit of the women to the tomb, and the fact that they had found it empty. Jesus told them these things seemed strange because they did not under stand what had been foretold by the prophets. When they arrived at the village He accepted their in vitation to tarry with them, and as they were breaking bread together He vanished from their sight. Then they knew who He was. THE ASCENSION. A full account is given us of the departure of Christ from the earth. According to His promise He met His dis ciples, and told them to go and preach the Gospel to all nations. He assured them that all power was given Him in heaven and earth, and He would be with His people even unto the end of the world. Not only did He have interviews with the apostles, and make Him self known to them, but we are told that He appeared to five hundred brethren at once. The closing scene was quite as extraordinary as any of the miraculous wonders that preceded it. After forty days had passed Jesus met His disciples again at Jerusalem. He told them to tarry there until they were endowed with power from on high. The hour had now come for Him to be separated from them ; He was to be with them no longer in bodily shape and presence. Then He led them out to Bethany, lifted up His hands and blessed them, and while doing this He was parted from them and carried up into heaven. THE ASCENSION. Luke xxiv. 50, 51. BIBLE STORIES FOR THE YOUNG. 31 PAUL AND BARNABAS AT LYSTRA. Acts xiv. 14, 15. PAUL PARTING WITH THE ELDERS. A Church had been planted at Ephesus, and Paul was anxious to visit it, but being in a hurry to reach Jerusalem, he sent to Ephesus for the elders of the Church to come down to the sea-shore where the vessel in which he was making his journey was waiting. The greeting they gave Paul was very hearty and affectionate. He told them he knew very well that afflictions and perse cutions awaited him, but he could not remain with them, for duty called him away. He assured them that he was not only willing to go to Jerusalem, but was ready to even die for the Lord Jesus. He spoke of his fidelity in declaring the whole truth, said he had coveted no man's PAUL AND BARNABAS. At Lystra there was a cripple, a man who had never been . able to walk. Paul and Barnabas, who were on a missionary tour, came to Lystra, and as Paul was preaching this lame man heard him. The attention of the apostle was drawn to the poor sufferer, who evidently had faith and believed the words that were spoken. Paul therefore felt convinced that there was a blessing for him and, calling to him with a loud voice, told him to stand up. The impotent man obeyed, and leaped to his feet, although he had never done such a thing before in his life. It is not strange that the people who saw what had been done were greatly amazed ; it seemed to them that more than human power had been employed in curing the lame man, and they looked upon Paul and Barnabas as gods. The priests went to the idols' temple and brought oxen to sacrifice to them, but the apostles rent their clothes, and ran among the people, forbidding any sacrifice, as they we:<"e only men. They had difficulty i preventing their worship. silver or gold, and with his own hands had worked for his support. Then he kneeled down and prayed with them all. The parting was with sadness and tears. The elders wept as they bade him good-bye, and were espe cially sorrowful at the thought of seeing him no more. They went with him to the ship, and he pursued his journey. PAUL TAKING LEAVE OF THE ELDERS. Acts xx. 37, 38. 32 BIBLE STORIES FOR THE YOUNG. OPENING OF THE SEVENTH SEAL. Rev. viii. 1-6. THE SEVENTH SEAL. The book of Reve lation is mostly taker up with the visions cf the apostle John, he saw many wonderful things, the meaning of which is not in all instances very seventh seal in plain. The heaven opening of was followed the by silence for the space of half an hour. Seven angels were seen, and to them were given seven trumpets ; these are repre sented in the foreground of the engraving. Another angel came with a golden censer, and stood at the altar. We have in the picture a cloud of incense ascending from the censer in the angel's hand. Then he filled the censer with the fire of the altar, and cast it into the earth. This was followed by voices, and thunderings, and lightnings, and an earthquake. The trumpets of the seven angels then sounded, one after another, and there were terrible signs in the earth. When the seventh angel sounded it was announced that the kingdoms of this world had become the king doms of our Lord and of his Christ. THE NEW JERUSALEM. Theapos tie John also tells us that in one part of his vision he saw a new heaven and a new earth. He draws a beautiful picture of the glory of the heavenly world. The city of the New Jerusalem, in other words the redeemed Church, wa.i seen coming down from heaven, adorned as a bride for her husband. A creat o voice said that the tabernacle of God was now with men, and He would dwell with them, and would wipe away all tears from their eyes. A glowing description is given of the peace and joy of the new Para dise. A river of water of life flows from the throne, on the banks of which the tree of life is growing. The servants of God serve Him day and night in His temple. They behold the face of the King in His beauty, and are sealed with His name. The inscription at the top of the accompanying engraving announces that they are blessed who are called to the marriage supper of the Lamb, and the one near the bottom says, "Alleluia, for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth ! " THE NEW JERUSALEM. Rev. xxi. i.a. CHRIST BLESSING LITTLE CHILDREN. TWELFTH CENSUS OF THE UNITED STATES. TAKEN IN 1900. POPULATION OF CITIES HAVING 25,000 INHABITANTS OR MORE IN 1900, ARRANGED ACCORDING TO POPULATION. Cities. Population. Increase. 1890 to 1900. Cities. Population. Increase. 1890 to 1900 1900 1890 Number. 1900 1890 Number. Greater New York 3,437,202 2,492,591 944,611 Omaha, Nebr. . . . 102,555 140,452 *37,897 Chicago, 111. . . . 1,698,575 1,099,850 598,725 Los Angeles, Cal. . 102,479 50,395 52,084 Philadelphia Pa. . 1,293,697 1,046,964 246,733 Memphis, Tenn. . 102,320 64,495 37,825 St. Louis, Mo. . . 575,238 451,770 123,468 Scranton, Pa. . . . 102,026 75,215 26,811 Boston, Mass. . . . 560,892 448,477 1 12,415 Lowell, Mass. . . . 94,969 77,696 17,273 Baltimore, Md. 508,957 434,439 74,518 Albany, N. Y. . . . 94,151 94,923 *772 Cleveland, Ohio . 381,768 261,353 120,415 Cambridge, Mass. . 91,886 70,028 21,858 Buffalo, N. Y. . . . 352,387 255,664 96,723 Portland, Oreg. . . 90,426 46,385 44,041 San Francisco, Cal. 342,782 298,997 43,785 Atlanta, Ga. . . . 89,872 65,533 24,339 Cincinnati, Ohio . 325,902 296,908 28,994 Grand Rapids, M'ch 87,565 60,278 27,287 Pittsburg, Pa. . . . 321,616 238,617 82,999 Dayton, Ohio. . . . 85,333 61,220 24,113 New Orleans, La. . 287,104 242,039 45,065 Richmond, Va. . . 85,050 81,388 3,662 Detroit, Mich. . . 285,704 205,876 79,828 Nashville, Tenn. . 80,865 76,168 4,697 Milwaukee, Wis. . 285,315 204,468 80,847 Seattle, Wash. . . 80,671 42,837 37,834 Washington, D. C. 278,718 230,392 48,326 Hartford, Conn. . . 79,850 53,230 26,620 Newark, N. J. . . . 246,070 181,830 64,240 Reading, Pa. . . . 78,961 58,661 20,300 Jersey City, N. J. . 206,433 163,003 43,430 Wilmington, Del. . 76,508 61,431 15,077 Louisville, Ky. . . 204,731 161,129 43,602 Camden, N. J. . . . 75,935 58,313 17,622 Minneapolis, Minn. 202,718 164,738 37,980 Trenton, N. J. . . . 73,307 57,458 15,849 Providence, R. I. . 175,597 132,146 43,451 Bridgeport, Conn. . 70,996 48,866 22,130 Indianapolis, Ind. . 169,164 105,436 63,728 Lynn, Mass 68,513 55,727 22,786 Kansas City, Mo. . 163,752 132,716 31,036 Oakland, Cal. . . . 66,960 48,682 18,278 St. Paul, Minn. . . 163,065 133,156 29,909 Lawrence, Mass. . 52,559 44,654 17,905 Rochester, N. Y. . 162,608 133,896 28,712 New Bedford, Mass. 62,442 40,733 21,709 Denver, Colo. . . . 133,859 106,713 27,146 Des Moines, Iowa. 62,139 50,093 12,046 Toledo, Ohio. . . . 131,822 81,434 50,388 Springfield, Mass. . 62,059 44,179 17,880 Allegheny, Pa. . . 129,896 105,287 24,609 Somerville, Mass. . 61,643 40,152 21,491 Columbus, Ohio . 125,560 88,150 37,410 Troy, N. Y 60,651 60,956 *305 Worcester, Mass. . 118,421 84,655 33,766 Hoboken, N. J. . . 59,364 43,648 15,716 Syracuse, N. Y. . . 108,374 88,143 20,231 Evansville, Ind. . . 59,007 50,756 8,251 New Haven, Conn. 108,027 81,298 26,729 Manchester, N. H. 56,987 44,126 12,861 Paterson, N. J.. . . 105,171 78,347 26,824 Utica, N. Y. . . . . 56,383 44,007 12,376 Fall River, Mass. . 104,863 74,398 30,465 Peoria, 111 . 56,100 41,024 15,076 St. Joseph, Mo. . . 102,979 62,324 50,655 Charleston, S. C. . 55,807 54,955 852 * Decrease. UNITED STATES CENSUS OF NINETEEN HUNDRED. Increase. Increase. Population. 1890 to Population. 1890 to Cities. 1900 Cities. 1900 1900 1890 Number. 1900 1890 Uumber. Savannah, Ga. . . 54,244 43,189 11,055 McKeesport, Pa. . 34,227 20,741 13,486 S't Lake City, Utah 53,531 44,843 8,688 Springfield, 111. . . 34,159 24,963 9,196 San Antonio, Tex. 53,321 37,673 15,648 Chelsea, Mass. . . 34,072 27,909 6,163 Duluth, Minn. . . . 52,969 33,115 19,854 Chester, Pa. . . 33,988 20,226 13,762 Erie, Pa 52,733 40,634 12,099 York, Pa 33,708 20,793 12,915 Elizabeth, N. J. . . 52,130 37,764 14,366 Maiden, Mass. . . 33,664 23,031 10,633 Wilkesbarre, Pa. . 51,721 37,718 14,003 Topeka, Kans. . . 33,608 31,007 2,601 Kansas City, Kans. 51,418 38,316 13,102 Newton, Mass. . . 33,587 24,379 9,208 Harrisburg, Pa. . . 50,167 39,385 10,782 Sioux City, Iowa. 33,111 37,806 *4,695 Portland, Me. . . . 50,145 36,425 13,720 Bayonne, N. J. . . 32,722 19,033 13,689 Yonkers, N. Y. . . 47,931 32,033 15,898 Knoxville, Tenn. . 32,637 22,535 10,102 Norfolk, Va 46,624 34,871 11,753 Chattanooga, Tenn. 32,490 29,100 3,390 Waterbury, Conn. . 45,859 28,646 17,213 Schenectady, N. Y. 31,682 19,902 11,780 Holyoke, Mass. . . 45,712 35,637 10,075 Fitchburg, Mass. . 31,531 22,037 9,494 Fort Wayne, Ind. . 45,115 35,393 9,722 Superior, Wis. . . 31,091 11,983 19,108 Youngstown, Ohio 44,885 33,220 11,665 Rockford, 111. . . . 31,051 23,584 7,467 Houston, Tex. . . 44,633 27,557 17,076 Taunton, Mass. . . 31,036 25,448 5,588 Covington, Ky. . . 42,938 37,371 5,567 Canton, Ohio . . . 30,667 26,189 4,478 Akron, Ohio . . . 42,728 27,601 15,127 Butte, Mont. . . . 30,470 10,723 19,747 Dallas, Tex 42,638 38,067 4,571 Montgomery, Ala. 30,346 21,883 8,463 Saginaw, Mich. . . 42,345 46,322 *3,977 Auburn, N. Y. . . 30,345 25,858 4,487 Lancaster, Pa. . . 41,459 32,011 9,448 East St. Louis, 111. 29,655 15,169 14,486 Lincoln, Nebr. . . . 40,169 55,154 *14,985 Joliet, 111 29,353 23,264 6,089 Brockton. Mass. . 40,063 27,294 12,769 Sacramento, Cal. . 29,282 26,386 2,896 Binghampton, N.Y. 39,647 35,005 4,642 Racine, Wis. - 29,102 21,014 8,088 Augusta, Ga. . . . 39,441 33,300 6,141 La Crosse, Wis. . . 28,895 25,090 3,805 Pawtucket, R. I. . . 39,231 27,633 11,598 Williamsport, Pa. . 28,757 27,132 1,625 Altoona, Pa. . . . 38,973 30,337 8,636 Jacksonville, Fla. 28,429 17,201 11,228 Wheeling, W. Va. . 38,878 34,522 1,356 Newcastle, Pa. . . 28,339 11,600 16,739 Mobile, Ala. . . . 38,469 31,076 7,393 Newport, Ky. . . . 28,301 24,918 3,383 Birmingham, Ala. . 38,415 26,178 12,237 Oshkosh, Wis. 28,284 22,836 5,448 Little Rock, Ark. , 38,307 25,874 12,433 Woonsocket, R. I. 28,204 20830 7,374 Springfield, Ohio. . 38,253 31,895 6,358 Pueblo, Colo. ... 28,157 24,558 3,599 Galveston, Tex. . . 37,789 29,084 8,705 Atlantic City, N. J. 27,838 13,055 14,783 Tacoma, Wash. . . 37,714 36,006 1,708 Passaic, N. J. . . 27,777 13,028 14,749 Haverhill, Mass. . 37,175 27,412 9,763 Bay City, Mich. . . 27,628 27,839 *211 Spokane, Wash. . 36,848 19,922 16,926 Fort Worth, Tex. . 26,688 23,076 3,612 Terre Haute, Ind. 36,673 30,217 6,456 Lexington, Ky. . . 26,369 21,567 4,802 Dubuque, Iowa . . 36,297 30,311 5,986 Gloucester, Mass. . 26,121 24,651 1,470 Quincy, 111 36,252 31,494 4,758 South Omaha, Neb 26,001 8,062 17,939 South Bend, Ind. . 35,999 21,819 14,180 New Britain, Conn 25,998 16,519 9,479 Salem, Mass. . . . 35,956 30,801 5,155 Council Bluffs, Iwa 25,802 21,474 4,328 Johnstown, Pa. . . 35,936 21,805 14,131 Cedar Rapids, Iwa 25,656 18,020 7,636 Elmira,N.Y. . . . 35,672 30,893 4,799 Easton, Pa 25,238 14,481 10,757 Allentown, Pa. . . 35,416 25,228 10,188 Jackson, Mich. . . 25,180 20,798 4,382 Davenport, Iowa . 35,254 26,872 8,382 * Decrease. POPULATION OF THE UNITED STATES DURING THE LAST SEVENTY YEARS. STATES AND TERRITORIES. 1830 1840 1850 1860 1870 1880 1890 1900 309,527 590,756 771,623 064, 2OI 996,992 9,658 484,471 560,247 39,864 537,454 14,181 125,015 131,700 187,748 1,184,109 14,999 2,539,891 1,680,637 1,194,020 364,399 1,321,011 726,915 626,915 780,894 i,457,35i 1,184,059 439-706 827,922 1,721,295 20,595 122,993 42,49i 318,300 906,096 91,874 4,382,759 1,071,361 1,262,505 40,440 802,525 864,694 194,327 622,700 135,177 146,608 177,6:- ; 269,493 1,542,180 32,610 3,077,871 1,978,301 1,624,615 996,096 1,648,690 939,946 648,936 934,943 1,783,085 1,636,937 78o,773 i, 131,597 2,168,380 39,159 452,402 62,266 346,991 1,131,116 119,565 5,082,871 1,399,750 1,513,01? 59,620 1,128,179 1,208,130 419,198 746,258 1,828,697 122,931 1,311,564 1,485,053 539,700 908,355 Arkansas 30,388 97,574 209,897 92,597 435,450 379-994 34,277 460,147 4,837 112,216 75,o8o 140,424 1,057,286 California Connecticut... 297,675 309,978 370,792 Delaware 76,748 39,834 34,730 516,823 78,085 43,712 54,477 691,392 9 I >532 51,687 87,445 906,185 168,493 230,392 391,422 1,837,353 84,385 3,826,351 2,192,404 1,911,896 1,427,096 1,858,635 1,118,587 661,086 1,042,390 2,238,943 2,093,889 1,301,826 1,289,600 2,679,184 132,159 1,058,910 45,76i 376,530 1,444,933 153,593 5,997,853 1,617,947 182,719 3,672,316 61,834 313,767 5,258,014 345,506 i,i5i,i49 328,808 1,767,518 2,235,523 207,905 332,422 1,655,980 349,390 762,704 1,686,880 60,705 32,052 89,990 180,182 184,735 278,718 528,542 2,216,331 161,772 4,821,550 2,516,462 2,231,853 1,470,495 2,147,174 1,381,625 694,466 1,190,050 2,805,346 2,420,982 1,751,394 i,55i,270 3,106,665 243,329 1,068,539 42,335 411,588 1,883,669 I95,3io 7,268,012 1,893,810 3i9,H6 4,157,545 398,245 413,536 6,302,115 428,556 1,340,316 401,570 2,020,616 3,048,710 276,749 343,641 1,854,184 518,103 958,8oo 2,069,042 92,53i 63,441 154,001 39i,9*> District of Columbia Florida Georgia Illinois 157,445 343,031 476,183 685,866 43,H2 851,470 988,416 192,214 i,7n,95i 1,350,428 674,913 107, 206 1,155,684 708,002 628,279 687,049 1,231,066 749, "3 172,023 791,305 1,182,012 Indiana Iowa Kentucky 687,917 215,739 399,455 447,040 6lO,AO? 3*&9 779,828 352,4" 5 OI >793 470,019 737,699 212,267 982,405 517,762 583,169 583,034 994,514 397,654 7,077 606,526 682,044 Louisiana Maine Maryland Massachusetts... Michigan Minnesota Mississipp*' 136,621 140,455 375,651 383,702 Missouri Montana Nebraska 28,841 6,857 326,073 672,035 93,5i6 3,880,735 992,622 Nevada New Hampshire New Jersey 269,328 320,823 284,574 373,306 317,976 489,555 6r,547 3,097,394 869,039 New Mexico New York . ... 1,918,608 707,987 2,428,921 753,419 North Carolina.. North Dakota.... Ohio 937,903 1,519,467 1,980,329 2,339>5H 2,665,260 3,198,062 Oklahoma Oregon . . . 13,294 2,311,786 147,545 668,507 52,465 2,906,215 174,620 703,708 90,923 3,52i,95i 217,353 705,606 174,768 4,282,819 276,53! 995,577 Pennsylvania.... Rhode Island.... South Carolina.. South Dakota.... 1,348,233 97,199 581,185 1,724,033 108,830 594,398 Tennessee 681,904 829,210 1,002,717 212,592 11,380 314,120 1,421,661 1,109,801 604,215 40,273 315,098 1,596,318 n,594 1,258,520 818,579 86,786 330,551 1,225,163 23,955 442,014 1,054,670 9,118 1,542,359 i,59 I ,749 U3,963 332,286 1,512,565 75,n6 618,457 1,315,497 20,789 Texas Utah Vermont 280,652 1,211,405 291,948 1,239,797 Virginia Washington West Virginia.... Wisconsin 30,945 305,391 775,88i Wyoming Alaska. Hawaii Indian Territory Total... [2,866,020 I7.06Q.4.S1 21.111.876 U..dA*.22I ^8.^8,-m <;o. T^.78^ 62.02/1.^7/1 7fi.215.T20 Index. Abbreviations Used in Business 373 Abscesses, How to Treat 362 Accent in Poetry 494 Account, Bills Payable 388 Accounts 37^ Account, Capital 391 Account, Expense 389 Accounts, Factor's 395 Account, Inventory 392 Accounts, Labor 390 Account, Loss and Gam 393 Account. Merchandise 384 Accounts ot Materials 390 Accounts. Personal 385 Accounts. Principal's or Bailor's 395 Account, Private 392 Account, Real Estate 389 Accounts, Sales 395 Accounts, Shipment 393 Accounts, Speculative 38 Acquaintances, How to Form 35 Acquaintances, New, not to be thrust on others... 36 Acqaintance with Marked Men 18 Acre ol Ground, Hills in 566 Acrostic Sale, The 212 Actress and Millionaire 138 Adams, John, Letter of. 86 Adams. President John 147 Adams, Wife of John, Letter of 86 Adapt Yourself to your Company 18 Address, Proper Form of 80 Adjournment 453 Advice, Letters of. 76 Affection, Lack of 149 Affectation to be Avoided 23 Affections Rule the Life 113 Africa, Exports of 560 Agencies and Collections 434 Age of any person, How to Tell 561 Ages of Animals 565 Ages of Horses, Kow to Tell 565 Ages, Proper for Marriage 124 Agreement for Sale of Personal Property 411 Agreement, General Form of 408 Agreement with Clerk 410 Agreements, Verbal and Written 407 Agreement to Cultivate Land 409 Agreements 407 MM Alcohol, Percentage of, in Liquors 563 Alphabet, Deaf and Dumb 474 Alphabet, Phoenician 461 Amaryllis 515 Ambiguity, French Anecdote of. 76 Amendments 451 American Goldfinch 530 Amiability, Necessity of. 24 Amusements for Children 189 Anecdotes, Ancient 72 Animals, Ages Atlamed by 565 Animals Locomotion of 562 Animal Organism 145 Animal Vigor, Marks of 147 Animals. Weight of. 566 " Angel Abroad and Devil at Home." 167 Angel, The Guardian 174 Answers, Short 71 Antidotes for Poisons 562 Apparel for the Street 28 Appearance, Personal 32 Apple Cream 253 Apple Wine 259 i April. Derivation of 559 Aquaria 540 Arabia, Exports of 559 Arbitration 411 Arbitrators, Agreement to refer to 411 Arctic Explorations 552 Arms, How to Strengthen 309 Arms. Movements for 305 Arteries and Veins 307 Artificial Ninnies 129 Artisans. Payments to 390 Asparagus. To Cook 246 Asparagus with Eggs 246 Asphalt for Walks and Floors 264 Assignees and Trustees 419 Assignments 416 Assignments, when Lawful 419 Association, Constitution for Literary 445 Association, Literary, By-laws of. 440 Aster, The 514 Athlete, A Young 302 Attendants at Dinner Parties 58 Attorney, Power of, to Confess Judgment 418 August, Derivation of. 559 Avoid Debt 542 Azalea 504 45 70* 706 INDEX. Back, How to Strengthen 307 Bacon, English, To Cure 243 Bail, Giving 438 Bailee's Accounts 395 Baking, Hint on 257 Balance, To, in Bookkeeping 385 Balances, Trial 396 Ball-room, Decorations of. 48 Balls, Etiquette of. 47 "alls, Invitations to 47 Bank Check, Form of. 400 Bank Deposits 399 Bartholdi's Statue 552 Base-Ball 336-346 Base-Ball, Diagram of Grounds 337 Base-Ball, Rules of 336 Bath, When to Take 347 Beautiful Flowers 510 Beauty, Art of. 268 Beauty, Female, Men Worship 163 Beaux, Fault-finding 152 Bed-Clothing 356 Bed for the Sick '. 353 Bed-Sores, How to Dress 352 Beef, Animal, Proportions of good Meat in 566 Beef Pie with Potato Crust 239 Beef, Roast 238 Beef, Spiced 239 Beefsteak 239 Beefsteak and Onions 239 Beefsteak and Oysters 239 Beefsteak, Smothered 241 Beetles, To Destroy 257 Beets. Baked 246 Beets, Boiled 246 Behavior, An Engaging 19 Belgium. Exports of. 560 Bell, Largest 545 Bellamy, Edward 131 Benevolence belongs to the True Gentleman 21 Bestowing Pleasure, Duty of. 17 Bill Book 378 Bill of Sale, Form of. 416 Bills of Sale 416 Bill of Sale with Warranty 4'6 Bills Payable Account 3$8 Bills Receivable Account 3 8 6 Birds, Care and Management of. 5 2 6 Birds, Diseases of 537 "Birds of a Feather" 138 Birthday, Letter on 90 Blackberry Wine, To Make 256 Black Merino, To Clean 262 Black Silk, To Clean 261 Blair's Rules for Style , 484 Blankets, To Clean 2 6o Bleeding, To Stop 361 Blind Postman, Game of 222 Blood to be kept Circulating 188 Bloomers, Carnation 520 Blotters and Ink 463 Blue Jay, The 530 Blue-stocking, The 25 Board by the Week 571 Boarding-schools for Children 194 Board, Table Showing Rates of. 571 Bobolink, The 529 Body, the, How to Strengthen 308 Bookkeeping 373-400 Bookkeeper's Application for Position 402 Bookkeeping, Necessity for 379 Books, Auxiliary 377 Books of Account 376 Boone, Daniel 316 Bonds 416 Bond, Form of, with Condition 417 Bond, Form of, without Condition 417 Bonds with Penalties 417 Bond with Power of Attorney 418 Bouquet, The Game of 221 Boston Brown Bread 248 Boston Fry 235 Bottles, to Clean 257 Boxes, Capacity of. 572 Box Measures 564 Brass Works, To Clean , 264 Brazil, Exports of 560 Bread, Boston 448 Bread, Boston Corn 249 Bread, Corn and Rye 249 Bread, Heavy, Love Can't Live on 157 Bread, How to Preserve 255 Bread, Rye 249 Breeding, Signs of Bad 30 Bricks, Cubic Feet of, in Masonry 572 Bricks, How many to Use.. 572 Bridegroom 65 Brides 63 Brides, Dress of. 65 Bridesmaids 64 Bridge, Old London 54& Bridges, Most Notable 546 Bridge of Sighs 546 Brown Bread, Boston 248 Brown Bread, Virginia 249 Brown Thrush, The 53 Bruises, How to treat 3 O1 Buffon, Saying of 3 2 Bullfinch, The 53 INDEX. 707 Buildings, Highest 548 Burns, How to Relieve 362 Bushel, Legal Weight of. 571 Business Laws for Daily Use 371 Business Lesson, A 542 Cabbage, Ladies' 245 Cabbage, Steamed 244 Cabinet Facts 506 Cali's-Head Soup 231 California, Gold in 572 Calls... 41 Calls, Evening 43 Cambric Dresses, To Clean 261 Camellia Japonica 523 Canada, Exports of. 560 Canaries, Color of. 527 Canaries, Food of. 527 Canaries, Mating of. 526 Canary, The - 526 Cancer, Bird 539 Canvas-back Duck 238 Cape Colony, Exports of. 560 Capital Account 391 Capital Letters, How to Use . 469 Capital, Net, How to Find 391 Capital Punishment, Modes of..... 562 Capitals, Whole- Arm 464 Cards, Visiting 46 Cards, Wedding 67 Cards with Letters of Introduction.... 37 Carlisle Tables of Mortality 561 Carnations and Picotecs 519 Carpets, Substitute for 290 Cash Account 383 Cash Book, The 378 Cash Book, The Petty 383 Carrots, Stewed 248 Carving Meats 60 Catastrophies, Great 550 Cat Bird, The 530 Cats 540 Cattle, Live, to Get Weight of 564 Cattle, To Weigh, by Measurement 564 Cauliflower, Fried 244 Celebrations, How to Conduct 458 Celery Soup 230 Ceremony, Marriage 66 Central America, Exports of. 560 Certificate, Landlord's 431-432 Chaffinch, The 532 Champagne, English v 258 Chance of Marrying... . .1 562 Chandler, Amelia Rives 124 Charity, Domestic 177 Charles Dickens, Letter of. 8l Charlie's Story of the Family Pledge 631 Charms, Feminine, Lost 24 Chattel Mortgages 425 Chavasse, Dr., Treatise by 179 Cherry Brandy, to Make 258 Cherries, to Preserve 3 254 Cherries, to Preserve in Bunches 255 Cherry Wine ... 259 Chesterfield, Saying of. 17 Chicago's Great Fi^es 551 Chicken Cream Soup 227 Chicken on Toast 237 Chickens 535 Chief Gall _ 171 Chilblains, Remedy Jtov- 254 Child, the Happy 181 Child, the Irritable 184 Children, Healthy 161 Children , How to Make Theoi Ladies or Gentlemen 3 1 Children, Old 186 Children in Perfect Health 285 Children Should Romp 183 Chili, Exports of. 560 China, Exports of. 560 China, Great Wall of. 552 China Painting - 207 China, to Mend 26^1 Chintz, to Clean 261 Chintzes, Washing 263 Chisel and Plane 208 Choice of Husband or Wife, Importance of. 127 Choice Selections of Poetry 606 Choosing, the Time for 12? Christmas Time 646 Chrysanthemum, The 514 Churches, Largest 548 Churchill, Lady Randolph 160 Circles, how to Measure 567 City, Greatest 546 Cisterns, Contents of. 566 Civility with Ease 23 Clam Chowder 236 Clam Fritters 236 Clam Soup 232 Clam Soup (French Style) 231 Cleanliness 180 Cleanliness, Necessity of. 352 Clearing House 399 Clergyman, Departing, Resolutions for ." 455 Clergyman in the Sick Room 555 Clerk, Agreement with.. 410 Clerk, The 450 Clerkship, Letter Asking 401 708 INDEX. Closing the ledger 398 Cloth, how to Make Waterproof. 255 Clothing, to Disinfect 289 Clothes, a Part of the Individual 32 Clothes, Gentlemen's, to Clean 262 Clothes, to Wash 263 Clubs, Men's ., 119 Cockatoos. The... ,. 534 Codfish a la Mode 234 Codfish, Salt, Boiled 234 Codfish, Salt, Stewed 234 Cod, Fresh, Boiled 234 Codicils to Wills 440 Coffee at Dinner 61 Coining Presses 569 Coins, Foreign, Value of. 572 Coins, Rare, Value of 571 Collections, Geological 2c8 Collection of Debts 436 Colons, Use of 473 Colored Drawings, to Make Resemble Oil-Paint ings 264 Colored Fabrics, to Clean 260 Colors, Harmony of. 27 Colors, How to Mix 567 Combe, George, Opinions of... 142 Combs, to Clean , 266 Commission Account 396 Commission Merchant 394 Commodore Nutt , 142 Committees 450 Communicating Ideas Peculiar to Man 18 Complexion, the, to Improve 267 Compliments, Game of. 219 Concise Business .Laws 371 Conduct, Vulgar in Ball-room 54 Conflagration, Great 550 Congratulations 42 Congratulation, Letters of. 96, 97 Conjugal Happiness, Basiaof 137 Consequences, Game of . 217 Consignments 395 Constitutions, Forms for 445 Consumptives 144 Contents of Cisterns 566 Contracts 407 Contracts between Merchants 408 Contract for Building a House 410 Contract for Mechanics' Work 409 Conundrums 600 Conundrums, Answers to 603 Conversation, Entertaining 53 Conversation, Extravagances of. 24 Conversation, Faults of. 71 Conversation, how to Make it Easy 19 Conversation, Philosophy of. . 19 Conversation, the Art of 6) Copper, t ) Clean 257 Coquette, The 24 Corn Cake, New England 250 Corn Pudding 246 Corn Soup 228 Correspondence, Etiquette of. 73 Costume, Appropriate 34 Costume for Traveling 29 Costume for Walking 28 Courtesy, Fashionable , 21 Courtin', The 640 Courting, Hints on 112 Courtship, Treatise on 111-282 Cousins, Marriage among 130 Coyness of True Love 115 Crab Croquettes 235 Crabs, Baked 235 Crabs, Deviled 235 Cracknels 251 Crape, to Renovate 262 Creditors, Assignments to 419 Crickets, to Destroy 257 Crochet 197 Crooked Stick, A 150 Croquettes, Meat and Potato 240 Cross-grained Natures 129 Cross Purposes, Game of. , .., 222 Crumpets, English , 253 Cubic Measure 572 Currant Wine 258 Curtain Lectures 170 Curtains, Lace, tc Clean 261 Dahlias 521 Dahlias, Single 523 Dahlias, Varieties of. 521 Damages, Tenant's 428 Damson Wine 259 Dancing, French Terms Used in 53 Dancing, Hints on 52 Dancing, Order of 51 Dandyism 128 Daughters of Toil..... 606 Davenport, Fanny, Temperament of. 159 Day Book , 377 Days of the Week, Derivation of... 559 Deakin Brown's Way 622 Death-Bed, A 613 Death, a Living 161 Death Song of the Oueida Chief. 619 Debate, Order in 453 Debt, Avoid 542 INDEX. 709 PAGE Debtor, Arrest of. 437 Debts, Power to Collect 435 Debts, Settlement of. 436 Decalcomanie 203 Decanters, To Clean 254 December, Derivation of. 559 Deductions, Practical, in Bookkeeping 396 Deed of Gift 422 Deed must be Recorded 421 Deed, Quit-Claim 422 Deed Takes Effect from Delivery 421 Deed, Warranty 421 Deeds and Mortgages 420 Deeds, when Valid 420 Deeds, Witnesses to 420 Deformities, Physical 145 Demand Note, Form of 400 Denmark. Exports of 560 Depew. Chauncey M 121 Deposits Bank 399 Depth' of the Ocean ,,... 549 Der Deutscher s Maxim. 627 Dessert for Dinners. 58 Designs for Houses 269-282 Diaothus 520 Differences of Age in Marrying 126 Differences, how Adjusted 118 Digestion of Various substances 563 Dignity cannot be Assumed 23 Dining-room 57 Dinner, Announcing the 59 Dinner, Courses at 60 Dinner, how to Give 55 Dinner Parties 55 Dinners, Gentlemen's Dress for 57 Dinners, Hints Concerning 62 Dinners, invitations to 56 Dinners, Ladies' Dress for 56 Dinners, Public 458 Discount and Interest 389 Discovery of Gold in California 572 Disease, Germs of. 286 Disease, Hereditary 133 Diseased Persons, should they Marry 142 Diseases, Contagious 354 Dissimilarities, Physical 140 Dissimilarities which Improve Love 139 Dog and the Tramp, The 621 Dogs, Care of. 540 Dollar Saved Each Day 543 Dollar, A, What it will Earn 543 Domestic Life, Treatise on 111-282 Doily, to Hemstitch 197 Doubtful Welcome, A 611 Draft, Form of After-date 387 Draft, Form of After-sight., 387 Drainage, Bad 288 Drawn-work, Elegant 197 Dresses, Bathing 29 Dress Controlled by the Weather 34 Dress for Church 29 Dress for Elderly Ladies 27 Dress for Evening 28 Dress, General Observations on 26 Dressing-room 49 Dress, Morning 27 Dresses, Muslin, to Clean 260 Dress, Neatness in 156 Dress for the Opera 20 Dress, Propriety of 26 Dress for Public Occasions 28 Dress, Dr. Johnson's Remark on Lady's 28 Dress. Walking 27 Drowning, to Restore Persons 358 Duck Pie 237 Ducks, Stewed 237 Dumb-Bells. 309-311 Dutch Concert. Game of 220 Dwellings, Healthy 283 Dyspeptic, a Sour 133 D Ear Corn Measure t 567 Early Autumn 624 Early Rising ~~ 154 Early Spring 628 Earth, Air. Fire and Water, Game of. 211 Earth Closets 289 Earthquakes, Great 550 Ease, Value of 20 Eau de Cologne, to Make 266 Echo, The, Game of 214 Economy, Domestic 166 Ecuador, Exports of. 560 Education Carried to Excess 191 Education, Mistakes of. 191 Egg Balls for Soup 230 Eggs, Food in 564 Eggs, French Method of Preserving 256 Egg-Plant, Stuffed 245 Eggs, Weight of. 563 Egypt, Exports of. 560 Electric Light, Largest ~ 544 Electricity 55^ Elevated Railroads of New York 553 Elopements 114 Embroidery, Materials for 195 Embroidery Paper 254 Embroidery, White 206 Emergencies, How to Give Aid in 357-36A 710 INDEX. Emerson, Remarks of, on Manners 32 Emetics for Poisons 363 Encyclopedia of Valuable Information 542 Engine, Largest Stationary 545 English Blackbird 531 English Language, The 486 -English Language, Synonyms of. 574 English Sovereigns, List of 560 English Thrush 531 Entries in Mercantile Books 379~38o Entry, Original 377 Entry, Subsequent 377 Epidemic in Brooklyn 284 Epithets used in Conversation 25 Erl-King, The 624 Errors in Writing and Speaking 487 Etiquette, Necessity of Observing 20 European Starling, The 531 Exclamation Marks , . 473 Execution, Issuing 437 Execution, Mode of, in every Country 562 Exercise and Female Health 157 Exercise, Evils of Overdoing 297 Exercise, Importance of. 291 Exercise, How much 299 Explorers, Arctic 552 Exports of Various Countries 559 Express Co., Letters from , 403 Facts about the Sun 558 Facts as to Sound 558 Facts, Philosophical 555 Factor's Accounts , 395 Fairy Story, A , 606 Fainting 357 Faithless Nellie Gray , 647 Falling, to Prevent, in Children 188 Family Jars '. 151 Family Letters 82 Family, Morals of, to be Guarded 38 Family, Ordained of God 121 Fancies and Whims of Love 123 Farm Ballad 606 Farmer's House, The 618 Farmer, Story of. 162 Fashions, Extravagant, to be Censured 26 Fashions should be Observed 29 Fashion, The Jackal's New 33 Fatigue from Over Exertion 300 jFault-finders, Everlasting 158 Favorites of the World 22 Fawcett, Miss Philippa 158 Fear the Destruction of Love 22 Feather Screens... , 210 February, Derivation of. 55 Feet, how to Clothe Children's 19 Feet in Poetry 49 Female Simpletons 19 Ferns, Gathering 20, Field, Kate, Temperament of 15 Fifer, Joseph W , 13! Filter, Natural 281 Fire in Clothing 36 Fires, Great 550-55 First Occurrences 55, Fish, to Cook 232-231 Fish Fritters 23, Fish, to Fry , 23: Fish Pan 23 Fish Soup , 23 Fish, Steamed , 23; >: Flag the Train " 621 Flattery. Offensive , 7< FlieS; to Destroy 25' Flies, how to Drive from Stables 56^ Flies, to Keep from Horses. ... 56; Flirtation 2< Flora s Bouquet, Game of a? Florence Nightingale s, The .". 2j Flowers for Brides 6t Flowers, Care and Culture of,... SH Flowers in the Sick Room.. ... jsc Flowers, Language and Sentiment of soc Folly, Criminal ig< Food Best for Children 19-: Food for Fishes 54c Food for Stock ... 56; Food in an Egg 56^ Food, Nutrition of Various Kinds of. 56; Foot-Ball... 33 2 -33 ( Foot-Ball, Diagram of Grounds 331 Foot-Ball, Rules of 332 Forgotten 622 Forms, Business 36; Forms for Business Letters 401 Form*, Social 3^ Forms for Social Letters 8i-nc Force-Meat Balls for Soup 230 Foreign Coins 572 Foreign Words and Phrases in Common Use 594 Fortunes, Foundations of. 542 Forwardness in Manner 20 Fossil Raindrops 615 Fowls, Dressing for 237 Fowler, Prof. O. S., Extracts from Writings of..... in Fountain, The 630 Foundations of Fortunes 54 3 Fractures of Bones 361 France, Exports of. S 66 INDEX. 711 Franklin, Benjamin, Letter of. 87 Freckles, to Remove 264 Fremont and Jessie 114 French Revolution. Cause of 33 French Stew 240 French Terms Used in Dancing S3 French Words and Phrases 597 Fret-Sawing 209 Friday, Derivation of 559 Friendship, Letters of. 93~97 Friendship, Visits of 43 Fritters, Golden-ball 252 Fritters, Pine-apple 252 Frost-Bites, how to Treat 360 Fruits, Yield of per Acre 566 Fuel, Different Wooc 1 .? for 566 Funerals, Etiquette of. 63 Funerals, What to do at 67 Furniture, Stained, to Clean 264 G Gallantry and Politeness 167 Gallium, Great Value of 543 Game, Served at Dinner 61 Garfield, President, Letters of 88 Garters, Not to be Worn 193 Gases, Noxious 287 Gases, Persons Overcome by 358 Gender 131 Gentleman, Deportment of a 20 Gentlemen, Rules for 42 Gentleman, The True 30 Geographical Play 218 Geraniums 516 Germany, Exports of 560 Germs of Disease , 286 Ghosts and Hobgoblins 182 Gift, The Auctioneer's 619 Gifts for Weddings 63 Gifts, Letters Accompanying 100, 101 Ginger Drops, to Make 266 Ginger Wine 259 Girls, Industrious 154 Girls, how to Tell Ages of. 561 Girls, Gymnastics for 311-316 Girls, "Jolly" 24 Girls of Nineteen 125 Girls, Sports for 296 Gladiolus, The 517 Globes, How to Measure 567 Gloves, Ill-fitting 28 Gloves, Wash-leather, To Clean 263 Gloves, When to be Worn 50 Glue and Cement, To Make 265 Go By 617 Godfrey, George, Organism of. 172 Going on an Errand .......................................... 622 Gold, Discovery of, in California .......... , ............. 572 Golden Rule in Dress ......................................... 27 Golden Street, The ............................................ 638 Goldfinch, The American... ................................ 530 Good, The ........................................................ 618 Good Animals ................................................... 292 Good Great Man. The ....................................... 623 Good Humor, Always be in ................................. 21 Good Humor, What it is .................................... 21 Good Little Idiots ............................................. 189 Good Manners, Importance of ............................. 17 Good Manners, Fruits of a Refined Nature ........... 30 Good Society, Livery of ..................................... 33 Gooseberry Jam ................................................ 253 Gooseberry Jelly ............................................... 253 Gooseberry Wine .............................................. 258 Grady, Henry W ............................................... 128 Graham Bread .................................................. 248 Graham Gems .................................................. 251 Grain Measure.. ............................................... 567 Grain, Shrinkage of .......................................... 566 Grammar, General Principles of ......................... 479 Grape Wine ...................................................... 258 Gravel for Birds ................................................ 540 Great Britain, Exports of .................................... 560 Greatest City in the World ................................... 546 Greatest on Earth ............................................. 544 Great Wall of China .......................................... 552 Greely Expedition ............................................. 552 Green Corn, To Cook ......................................... 246 Green-eyed Monster .......................................... 176 Greenland, Exports of ......................................... 560 Green Linnet, The .............................................. 532 Green Pea Soup ............... .. ................................. 228 Green Peas, Stewed ............................................ 247 Greenwald, Miss Clara ......................................... 165 Griddle Cakes, Corn-meal ..................................... 252 Groomsmen ....................................................... 64 Grouse, Roast ...................................................... 238 Grumble Corner and Thanksgiving Street ............ 620 Guarantee Account ............................................. 396 Guests, Announcing the ...................................... 51 Guests, How to Entertain .................................. 45 Guests, How to Seat at Dinner ............................ 459 Guests, Receiving them ...................................... 59 Gun, Largest ................................................... .. 545 Gymnastics, Benefit of. ....................................... 297 Gymnastics for Girls ..................................... 311-316 Gymnastics with Use of Chair ............................. 308 Hair, Every, has its Shadow .............................. afe Halibut, Boiled ................................................. 233 Halls, Largest ...................... . ......................... ... 548 712 INDEX. Hand-writing, How to Acquire Good 461 Hand-writing, Indies' 468 Harland, Marion 154 Hash, Beef 241 Hash, Vegetable . 247 Haste Not! Rest Not! 609 Hay Measure 566 HeadCheese 243 Heads of Governments, Salaries of 560 "Header," The, in Swimming 350 Health, Plain Rules for 187 Health, Treatise on 283-364 Healthy Dwellings 283 Heart, The Organ of Blood Circulation 303 Helps for the Household 227-268 Hen-pecked Husbands .... 170 Hens, How to Take Care of 574 Hills in an Acre of Ground 566 Hindoostan, Exports of 560 Holland, Exports of. 560 Holmes, Dr., Pithy Saying of 300 Home and School, Useful Information for 461 Home Decorations 205 Home Occupations ...195-210 Home Pastimes and Amusements 211-226 Home, Sunshine in 158 Horehound, Candied 265 Horse, Bill of Sale of. 416 Horses, How to Tell Ages of 565 Horses, Fastest 551 Horse Power of Locomotive 572 Horses, To Keep Flies from 564 Hot-Cross Bunns 250 House, a. Contract for Building 410 House-Building 269-282 House, How to Ventilate 284 Household Pets, Care of. 526 House, Where to Locate. 290 Housekeepers, Hints to 282 Housekeeper, The Tidy 156 Hovels Turned to Palaces 172 How do you Like it? Game of. 215 How Sleep the Brave ! 610 How Three Were Made One 611 Human Life, Eight Periods of. 375 Human Life, How Spent 561 Human Procupines 171 Human Nature, Knowledge of. 19 Huntsman, Game of the 212 Husband, A Brutal 176 Husband, Coarse 140 Husbands, Hen-pecked 170 Husband and Wife Comprise One 173 Husbands, Old 126 Husband, The Model 163-178 Husband, The Stingy 134 Husbands who are Occasional Callers 175 Hyacinth, The 518 Hydrophobia, How to Treat 363 Idiot, Aa 140 Idiots, Good Little 189 If Our Old Clock Could Speak 612 Ignoramus, An 147 "I Live for Thee" .. 617 Imperfection of Human Sympathy 608 Important Trifles 118 Indian Clubs... 316 Indigo Bird, The 531 Industry a Commendable Trait 153 Information, Encyclopedia of. 542 Ink, Black, To Make 265 Ink, Red, To Make 265 Ink. Red, Used in Book-keeping 398 Ink-stains, How to Remove 255-256 Ink, Violet, To Make 265 Instincts of the Sexes 125 Interest, How to Calculate 568 Interest Period of Heavy , 568 Interest Rules 568 Interest Rules, Excellent 567 Interest Tables 568 565 Interrogation Marks 473 Introductions 35 Introductions at Ball 57 Introductions, Indiscriminate 36 Introduction, Letter Requesting 402 Introductions, Responsibility for 37 Inventory Account 392 Invitation, Letters of. 91 Invitation, Notes of 92 Invitations, Wedding, Forms for 107-109 Invoice Book, The 378 Ireland, Exports of. 560 Iron, Value of. 544 Italy, Exports of. 560 "Jack " 633 Jackals, Story of 33 Jail-Bird, A 148 January, Derivation of. 559 Japan, Exports of. 560 Japanese Robin, The 533 Java Sparrow, The 532 Jealousy to be Avoided 74 Jealousy, Cure for 177 Jewelry, what to Wear 27 Johnnie Cake 250 INDEX. 715 Judgment, To Confess ..... . ................................. 418 July, Derivation of. ...................................... *.... 559 June, Derivation of. ....................... M .................. 559 Keeping Books, Methods of. ................... .... ......... 376 Kid Boots, Ladies', to Clean ................ .. ............. 257 Kid Gloves, French Mode of Cleaning ............... .. 253 Kindergarten, The ............................................ 294 Kindness, a Mark of High Breeding.. ... ............... 31 Kindness to Children ......................................... 183 Kissing ............................................................. 39 Kitchen, The Queen of. ..................................... 157 Knitting .................................. .. ........... .. ............ 197 Knives, to Clean .............................. .. ................ 257 Lace 206 Lace Curtains, To Clean 261 Ladies, Attentions to 52 Lady's Chance of Marrying .. 562 Lady Street-sweepers 41 Lady, the Married 26 Lady, The True 23 Lake, Deepest in the World 549 Lakes, Size of 550 Lamb, Charles, Letter of. 95 Lamb Stew 241 Lame Man and Blind One, The 635 Land, Conveying by Deed 421 Landlord's Certificate 431 Landlord's Notices 433 Landlords, Rights and Duties of. 427 Land Measure.. 567 Land Taken on Shares 409 Language of Flowers ... 500 language, Plain English 71 .datin Words and Phrases , 594 Lawn Tennis 327 Lawn Tennis Court 327 Lawn Tennis, Odds 331 Lawn Tennis, Rules of. 327 Lawn Tennis, Three-handed and Four-handed Games of. 330 Lawrence, Amos, Letters of. 85 Laws Governing Likes and Dislikes 136 Laws of Partnership 411 Lawyer, the, Game of. 225 Lease, Form for 429 Lease, Form of Farm and Buildings 430 Leases, Written 427 Leather, how to Make Waterproof. 255 Leaves, Phantom, how to Make 205 Ledger, Closing, the 398 Ledger, Double-entry 383 Ledger, The ...:....... 38* Legislators, Instructions to 455, Legs, Crooked 187 Legs, How to Strengthen.. 306 Lemon Drops, to Make , . 266 Lemon Short-cake . 252 Letter Accepting Goods 405 Letter Answering Inquiries.... 405 Letter to Country Merchant , 40^ Letter Demanding Payment 406 Letter of Inquiry 405 Letter of Introduction , What it Should Contain... 36 Letter, A Lover's ........... 116 Letter, Merchant's, to Store-keeper 402- Letter Requesting Payment 406 Letter, Store-keeper's, Declining Goods 404 Letters Accompanying Gifts 100-101 Letters to Express Co.... 403% Letters, Forms for Si Letters of Introduction 35 Letters of Introduction, How to Treat 36 Letters of Love 102-107 Letters, Replying to 77 Letter-writing, Faults of. 73 Levy and Property 437 Lies Told to Children 185 Life ~ 6iS Light and Sunshine 181 Lightning Conductors 558 Lightning, Persons Struck by 358 Likes and Dislikes 132 Lily, The 510 Lily, Varieties of the 511 Lines to an Indian Air.. 635 Liniment for Bruises 266 Linnet, The 531 Lion's Ride, The 630. Liquids, Measures of 57? Little Dora's Soliloquy ~ 637 Little Worries 62$ Little Nell's Funeral 645 Lives, Two in One 172 Loaf Cake, Indian ,. ~. 249 Lobster 3calloped.~ -. 235 Lobster Soup . 231 I^ockwood, Lieut. J. B 177 Locomotion of Animals 562 Locomotive, Fastest Ever Built 553 Locomotive, to Find Horse Power of 572 London, Size of. ; 54^ Looking-Glasses, to Clean 26.] Loom of Life 623 Loreys, The > 534 Loss and Gain Account 393 Losses and Gains, Schedule of. ., 393 714 INDEX. Love, Excessive Animal .................................... 152 Love Feeds Love ............................................... 119 Love-fever, The ................................................ 126 Love Letters ................................................ 102-107 Loveliness, Female .......................................... 159 'Love Laughs at Locksmiths " ........ .................. 114 Love-making, Art of.. ............... , ....................... 112 Love, Power of ................................................ 184 Love to All Men Our Duty . ................................ 21 Love, Reciprocal ............................................... 119 Lave-spats ................... .. ........................... . ....... 169 Love Sweetens Life ........ ............................... ... 166 Lover, Story of. ................. , .............................. 153 Lovers, Portuguese ....... , ....... ... ......................... 156 Lozenges, Lemon ............................................... 253 Lungs and Skin ..................... . .......................... 289 Lungs, Bleeding from ....................................... 361 Lungs, How to Strengthen ............................... 307 Lyceums, Constitution for ...................... , .......... 445 Macaroni a la Crerne ...................... .... ..... , .......... 247 Macaroni Soup .................... , ......... .. ................ 229 Macaws, The ........ ......................................... . 534 Mackerel, Salt, Boiled ....................................... 234 Mad Dogs ........................................................ 363 Mdden Missionary ............................................ 623 Man for The Hour, The ........................ . ............ 632 Manner, A Winning .......................................... 19 Manners and Morals Allied ................................ 31 Planners, Graceful and Easy .............................. 19 4*5 Partnership, Dissolution of 4 J 3 Partnership, Laws of 412 Partnerships, Special 4*3 Partridges, Roast 238 Paste for Moulding 265 Pastimes for the Home 211 Patch-work 197 Patience Taught by Nature 625 Patterns for Embroidery 196-203 Pauses 49^ Pavement, Cost of Vanderbilt's 544 Peas, Green, To Cook 247 Pea Soup 229 Pedant, The 25 Pen Flourishing 466, 470, 476 Pen, How to Hold the 4 6 5 Penmanship 462 Penny Saved, Penny Earned 155 Peppermint Drops, To Make 265 Perch for Birds 539 Perfumes, Moderation in Use of. 28 Periods of Digestion 563 Periods, Use of 473 Perseverance 178 Versia, Exports of. 560 Personal Accounts 385 Personal Expense Account 392 Persons Polite and Impolite, Difference between .. 20 Persons to be Avoided 134 Peru, Exports of 560 Petitions, Forms for 456 Pets, Care and Management of. 526 Petulance Never Justifiable 21 Petunias 512 Pheasants, Roast 238 Philadelphia Mint 569 Philadelphia Pepper Pot 229 Philosophical Facts 555 Phonograph, The 556 Photography 208 Physical Training 295 Pickerel, Baked 232 Pigeon Flies, The, Game of 226 Pig, Roast 242 Pigeons 535 Play, Advantages of. 295 Play-grounds, Public 180 Plants, Care and Culture of. 510 Pleasing Others, Rules for 20 Pleasure, Duty of Bestowing < 17 PAG5 Pluck and Prayer 633 Plunge, the, in Swimming 349 Plymouth Rock, History of. 552 Poetry, Art of Writing 49^ Poetry, Choice Selections of. 606-656 Poisons, Antidotes for 562 Poisoned, the, How to Treat 363 Poison, Snake 364 Polish for Furniture 2b6 Politeness, Effect of Genuine 21 Politeness, French Rule of 2 o Pomade, To Make 257 Pop-overs 252 Pork and Beans, Boston. , 242 Pork Pot-pie 242 Portugal, Exports of. .. 560 Postscripts 79. Potatoes a la Delmonico 243 Potato Croquettes 243 Potatoes, Fried with Eggs 243 Power of Attorney, Form of. 434. Poultry, Management of. 564 Practical Knowledge, Value of. iS Praise, Value of. 169 Present, The 611 Presents for Weddings 63 Present, Letter Acknowledging 90 Printing, Abbreviations Used in.. 599 Printing, Amateur 209 Promissory Note 386 Promissory Note, Assignment of. 419 Property, Personal, Sale of. 411 Proposal, Marriage 116 Protest 399 Proxy, or Power to Vote 435 Prude, The 25 Pulse, Natural Rate of. 563 Punctuation, Correct 77 471 Punctuation, Droll Mistakes of. 78. 79 Punctuation not Regarded in Contracts 408 Punctuation, Rules of. 471 Push and Perseverance 178- Quail, Roast 238 Question, Division of. 452 Questions, Equivalent 45* Question, how to Put 451 Questions of Order 452 Question, Previous 4S 2 " Questions, Privileged 45^ Quiet Work 625 Quorum, what Constitutes 45 INDEX. 717 Rabbits 540 Raillery 70 Railroad Facts 553 Rainfall in the United States 559 Randolph, James 144 Raspberry Wine 259 Kates per cent., Divisors for 568 Raw Material, Purchases of. 390 Receipt, Form of. 4:0 Recognition on Street 40 Recommendation, letters of. 75 Red Bird, The 529 Reed Birds, to Cook 238 Refreshments for Parties 48 Registry of Deeds 421 Regulations for Courtship iiS Relations, Marrying 130 Religion Governs Selection 148 Remembered by what I have Done 625 Remonstrance, Form for 454 Repairs on Property 428 Replies to Letters 77 Republic, Smallest in Europe 560 Reserve, a Prudent 72 Resolution, Lack of. 150 Resolutions of Thanks 455 Resolutions, Forms for 454 Resolutions for Departing Clergyman 455 Resolutions of Codolence 454 Respect, Tokens of. 44 Respiration, Artificial 360 River Path, The 638 Robin, The 530 Rose, The 525 Rules, Business 365 Rules, Parliamentary 450 Ruskin, Remark of. 30 Rusks 251 Russia, Exports of. 560 Rhubarb Wine 259 Riding, Horseback 299 Ring, The Wedding 64 Rivers, Longest in the World 549 Rolls, Parker House 250 Rose- Water .... 267 Rowing, Value of. 298 Royalty, Cost of, to England 560 Ruth... .. 612 Salaries Paid to Heads of Governments 560 Sales Accounts 395 Sales Book , 278 Sally Lunn 250 243 Salmon, Boiled ................................................ 332 Salmon, Broiled ............................................ 2 ,, Salutations ................................................... j- Saratoga Chips Saturday, Derivation of. ....... , Saving Small Sums ........................................... 543 School Episode, A ............................................. 627 Scotch Sconei .................................................. 251 Soott, Sir Walter, Saying of. ............................... 185; Scraping the Pan .............................................. 609 Screens, Feather ............................................... 2 io Seals, State ...................................................... 420 Seas, Size of. .................................................... $$ Q Secrets, Domestic .............................................. 175 Sections and paragraphs ..................................... 477 Seeds Required per Acre .................................... 565 Seeds, Vitality of. ................... .. .......................... 565 Self to be kept in the Background .................. ...... 21 Selfishness. All Vulgar ........................................ 31 Semicolons, Use of. ........................................... 473 Sentences, Construction of. ................................ 481 Sentiment of Flowers ........................................ 500 September, Derivation of. ................... .............. 559 Seventeen and Forty-two ................................... 127 Seven Wonders of the World ............................... 553 Sexuality ............................................... ....... . 122 Sexual Depravity ............................................. 112 Shad, Baked .............. . ....................................... 333 Shad, Baked, Dressing for .................................. 233 Shad Roe, To Cook .......................................... 233 Shawls, To Clean .............................................. 2 6o Shad, To Broil .................................................. 233 Shipment Accounts .......................................... 393 Shipments in Company ...................................... 394 Ships at Sea ...................................................... 639 Shoes for Children ............................................ 193 Shoes for Public Occasions ................................. 50 Shrinkage of Grain ........................................... 566 Sick Room Made Pleasant .................................. 356 Sickness, Prevention of. ..................................... 287 Sick Persons, Rest for ....................................... 354 Sick, the, How to Nurse .................. . ............ 35'-356 Signs Used in Business ...................................... 373 Sight Draft, Form of. ......................................... 400 Silent Partner .................................................. 413 Silk, To Wash .................................................... 259 Silver-Ware, To Renew ...................................... 264 Silver Wedding, Form for Invitation to .............. no Similarity, The Cardinal Requisite ..................... 135 Simplicity, Attractive ....................................... 34 Sincerity of Heart ............................................ 17 Siskin, The ....................................................... 531 Skin, To Beautify ....................... . ..................... 267 Skylark, The ................................................... 532 Sleep, Importance of. ....................... ............ 192, 353 718 INDEX. Sleeping Sentinel, The 642 Sloe Wine 259 Small Inventions 543 Smoking 40 Snake Poison ... 364 Snow-Drop. The 517 Soap and Water 352 Soap, Substitute for 257 Soul and Body 626 Sound, Facts as to 558 Soups 227-232 Sorcerer behind the Screen, Game of. 226 Sour Crout 245 Southey, Letter to, by Charles Lamb 95 Sovereigns of England, List of 560 Spain, Exports of 560 Spanish Proverb 26 Spelling, Rules for 467 Split Pea Soup 228 Sports, Athletic 327-350 Sports for Girls 298 Sports, Manly 296 Springfield Arsenal 610 Spring Vegetable Soup 230 Squash, Winter, Baked 247 Squash, Winter, Boiled 247 Stables, to Keep Flies from 564 Stammering, How to Cure 186 Staring, Odious 23 Statements of Accounts 385 Statue, Bartholdi's 552 Steam Hammer, Largest 545 Stingy Husbands... 134 Stitches in Needle Work 196 Stone Steps, to Clean 264 Stones, Precious 27 Store Fixtures Account 388 Store-keeper's Letter to Merchant 403 Stock, Food of 565 Story, A Sad 119 Strife, Cause of. 138 St. Paul, Saying of , 136 Strawberry, Short-cake 252 Strawberry Wine 259 Strength should Marry Weakness 143 String Beans, To Cook 245 Style in Correspondence 74 Style, The Best 4^3 Subjects for Discussion 447 Sub-letting Property 427 Substitution, Power of. 435 Succotash 246 Sumner Charles, Letters of. 87, 95 Summons, To Obtain 436 Sunbeam's Mission 615 Sunday, Derivation of. Sun's Dimensions, The .......................... .. Sun, Facts about the ................... , .................... Sun's Heat, The ............................................... Sunshine, Value of .................................... Sunstroke, How to Treat ................................... Supper at Receptions ......................................... Surface Measure ........................................... Sweden, Exports of .......................................... Sweet Pea ........................................................ Sweet Potatoes, Baked ....................................... Swift, Saying of. ............................................... Swimming ....................................................... Swimming on the Back ..................................... Swimming, Great Feats of. ................................ Swimming, How Learned ................................. Swing and Stirrups ........................................... Switzerland, Exports of. .................................... Sympathy, Letters of .................................... 97 Synonyms of the English Language .................... ,,-., 359 r 2 cj 2 560 t^e 243 34 6 349 347 348 317 560 100 574 Table, Furnishings for 57 Table Multiplication, Instantaneous 570 Table, Scratched or Defaced 257 Table Ware, Placing 58 Talkers, Loud, Disagreeable 23 Tastes, Diversity of. 132 Taste, Good 27 Tea and Coffee at Dinners 61 Telephone, The 556 Temper, A Pleasant 74 Temperaments, Forms, Noses, etc 1^5 Temperament, Strong Masculine 139 Temperance Resolutions 455 Temperature, Average Annual 559 Tenant's Certificate 431, 439 Tenants, Rights and Duties of. 427 Tenderness, Offices of. 21 Terms Used in Business 365 Third Person, Use of in Writing 76 Thomas, Theodore 137 Three Kingdoms, Game of. ; 216 Throat, Foreign Bodies in 360 Thursday, Derivation of. 559 Timber, Seasoning and Preserving 567 Time and Love 627 Time to Choose and Wed 122 Tissue Paper 196 Titles, Professional 46 Toasts, Regular 459 Toasts, Volunteer 463 To-day and To-morrow 616 Toilette, Ladies' 49 -omaf-es, Scalloped , .... 245 INDEX. 719 PAGE Tomato Soup, i ,^and3 .................................... 230 Tombola, Game of. ........... . ............................... 220 Tom Thumb ..................................................... 141 Tongue, a Wife's Long ...................................... 174 Tour, Wedding ................................................ 66 Toys, Dangerous. .............................................. 181 (Trades, the, Game of. ........................................ 213 Trance, A ..................................................... .... 357 Travelers' Tour, Game of. .................................. 223 Treasure Diggers, The ....................................... 637 Treatment, Cold ............................................... 168 Trees, Largest in the World ............................... 547 Trial Balances .................................................. 396 Trial Balance of Ledger ...................................... 397 Trifles for Fancy Work ...................................... 206 Tripe, Fricasseed .............................................. 240 Troopial.The ................................................... 533 Tuesday, Derivation of. ..................... , .............. 559 Tulips .............................................................. 519 Tunnels, Longest .............................................. 545 Turf, Most Noted Facts of the ............................ 551 Turkey, Exports of. .......................................... 560 Turkey, Roast .................................... ............. 236 Turkey Soup ................................................... 229 Turn of Summer, The ....................................... 615 Turtle Soup from Beans .................................... 228 Twenty Questions, Game of. ............................... 216 Twirl the Trencher, Game of. ............................. 215 Two Glasses, The ............................................. 636 Type-writers .................................................... 558 \J Umpire. Base-Ball ............................................. 346 Underscoring ................................................... 479 Under-skirts, to Clean ....................................... 260 Understanding, An Enlightened ........................ 18 United States, Exports of. .................................. 560 Untruthfulness ................................................ 30 Unveiling Burns' Statue .................................... 607 Vagabonds, The ....................... . ........................ 644 Value of Metals ................................................ 543 Vanderbilts, Wealth of. ...................................... 543 Vanity, Many Controlled by .............................. 22 Veal Cutlets. Broiled ......................................... 240 Veal Soup ........................................................ 227 Vegetables, Yield of per Acre ..... . ....................... 566 Vegetation, Origin of. ........................................ 554 Velocities of Various Bodies .............................. 562 Venezuela, Exports of ..................................... 560 Venison Steak, Broiled ...................................... 238 Verbenas .......................................................... 512 Vermicelli Soup ................................................ 230 Vermin ou Birds ..... ........................................ 539 Ventilation, Necessity of. 284 Verse, Anapaestic 496 Verse, Dactylic 496 Verse. Different Kinds of 493 Verse, Iambic 495 Verse, Trochaic 495 Views of Farmer Brown 626 Violets 513 Virtues, Substantial 25 Visits, Protracted 44 Visitors, Reception of 43 Visits 41 Vitality of Seeds 565 Vocabulary of Flower Language 501 Volcanoes, Loftiest 549 Volubility to be Avoided 23 Vulgarities at the Table 55 Vulgarity, Marks of 31 382 Waddingitam, Land Proprietor : 544 Waffles, Continental Hotel 251 Waffles, Ge^ Jian Rice 252 Wages, Table of. 570 Wall-paper, Poisonous 180 Wall-pockets 206 Walpole, Saying of 33 Walls, Broken, to Repair . 264 Walls, Damp, to Dry 263 Wand, the, how Girls should use.. 311-316 Warranty Deed 421 Washington Monument ^47 Watches, Oil for 253 Water, Deadly 286 Wax Flowers 203 Wax Plant, The 515 Wax for Flowers," How to Preserve 204 Weakness should Marry Strength. 143 We are Growing Old.. 609 Webster, Preference of for Little Women 146 Wedding Anniversaries 109 Wedding Cards, Forms for 107-109 Weddings, Etiquette of. 63 Weddings, Time for 63 Wedding Tour 66 Wednesday, Derivation of. 559 Week-Days, Derivation of. 559 Weights and Measures 572 Weight of a Million Dollars 54? Weight of Eggs 563 Weight of Men and Animals 566 Wells, To Find Quantity of Water in 567 West Indies, Exports of. 560 Whisperin' Bill 616 I White Fish, Baked 233 \ 720 INDEX. PAGE Wmte Mice...... - 54 White Rats 54O Who are Adapted to Each Other 121 Who are not Adapted to Each Other 121 Wife, an Untidy 151 Wife, How to Spoil 166 Wife, The Lazy 153 Wife, The Model I53- 162 Wife, Rights of. 44 Wild Beast Show, Game of. 219 Wills and Testaments 439 Wills, Executors of. 44 Will, General Form of. 44*~444 Will, Weakness of. 15 Wills, Witnesses to 44 Wine, Currant, Grape, Gooseberry 258 Wine Stains, To Remove 257 Wine, Strawberry, Raspberry, Damson Cherry, Sloe, Rhubarb, Apple, Ginger, Orange 259 Witticisms at the Expense of Others 6 9 Wives, Healthy lfil Writing and Printing, Abbreviations Used in 599 Woman, a Well-dressed 2 7 Woman, the Stylish I28 , the World's Prize "o Women, Married should Discountenance Coquetry 26 Women of Wax and Wood 160 Wonders of the New World 5^3 Wonders of the World 553 Wood-Carving 209 Wood Measure 566 Wood, Value of for Fuel 566 Woolen Dresses, To Remove Stains from 256 Woolens, To Clean .' 262 World's Best Authors, Choice Selections from..6o6- 656 Words, Pleasant 185 Worn Wedding Ring, The 646 Writer, Correct Position of the.... 463 Writing, Instructions for 461 Writing Materials 462 Yeast, Unrivalled 248 Yellowstone Park 547 Yellow, the most Trying Color 28 Yield of Grains per Acre 566 Yorkshire Pudding 240 Young America, Miss 163 Young Lady, "Loud" 24 Young, Poet, Quotation from S3 : M r S ' - ;eV* 'i ''"<* 'rSu : "C' *' '^S?