The Chautauquan, July 1885

[559]

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

Vol. V. JULY, 1885. No. 10.

OFFICERS OF THE CHAUTAUQUA LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC CIRCLE.

President, Lewis Miller, Akron, Ohio. Chancellor, J. H. Vincent, D.D., New Haven, Conn. Counselors, The Rev. Lyman Abbott, D.D.; the Rev. J. M. Gibson, D.D.; Bishop H. W. Warren, D.D.; Prof. W. C. Wilkinson, D.D.; Edward Everett Hale. Office Secretary, Miss Kate F. Kimball, Plainfield, N. J. General Secretary, Albert M. Martin, Pittsburgh, Pa.

Contents

SOME DAMASCENE PICTURES.

BY BISHOP JOHN F. HURST, D.D.

One is forcibly struck with the Damascene bazars. They thread the old city in all directions. Some of them are new, and some very old. The most of them are covered ways, where either side is divided into small booths, or shops. The bazar has its specialty—the brass bazar, the silversmith bazar, the goldsmith bazar, the shoe bazar, the silk bazar, and all the rest. Then there is another order of division, such as the Greek bazar and the Frank bazar. There is sometimes, however, a breaking up of all orders, for goods of very varied character you can sometimes get in the same bazar. The oldest of these quaint marts date back many centuries, and are mere holes, or rickety houses, where buying and selling have been going on for many a generation. The venders love these old places. I imagine their fathers, and even remote ancestors sat in the same spot, and did business in much the same way, and chaffed about the prices in quite as much hyperbole, four or five centuries ago, as their children do to-day, when a Frank drops into the busy way, and halts, and asks a question concerning the beautiful wares.

The love is for the old. No Damascene wants to change to the new. The smooth floor and familiar shelves of his booth he could not give up to another for many a bright bishlik.

Not long since the Pasha of Damascus, who had been long making vain efforts to get the shop-keepers of a stretch of the bazar in the “street that is called straight,” to pull down their booths and put up new ones, had to give up the task as hopeless. Finally he ordered that, at a given signal, one night, the bazar should be set fire to in a number of places. His officers did their duty well. They knew what they were about. The result was that long reaches of this one bazar were burned to the ground. The wares went up in smoke with the tinder which enclosed them.

“What could the people do?” I asked my informant.

“Do? Why, nothing at all.”

“Were they insured? Did they get any compensation back again for the destruction of their property?”

“Not in the least. The Pasha had the power. No questions were asked. The consequence is, that, as you see, new bazars are building in various places. Soon they will be occupied by gay, oriental wares, and things will go on quite the same as before. Only there will be more light and fresher air.”

Among the specialties sold in the Damascene bazars we may mention silk goods, first of all. They are combined with cotton, and woven into various patterns for dress and furniture. They defy all competition the world over. The patterns are exquisite. No wonder this artistic weaving has given the city’s name, or damask, to such fabrics for all time. Curtains and all manner of stuffs are woven, and are here displayed in such combinations as to bewilder any but Orientals. I saw, during my stay, the places where these fine silks are woven. There are no great shops, no few places where they come from. They are produced in small houses, in obscure and ill-odorous streets, and by thousands of hands, young and old. It is the toil of the poor, the young, and the infirm, in sunless cellars and obscure corners which brings out these sunny silks and beautiful designs. Queens send here from afar to buy them. There, in the hotel, I saw the Crown Prince of Austria and his fair-haired Belgian bride. Before twenty-four hours will have passed they will be buying these silks of Damascus, and in less than six months Stephanie will be wearing them at a court dinner. When she becomes Empress she will be having more of them, and her favorite rooms will likely be hung with the rich stuffs sent direct from these busy bazars, but coming first from dingy homes and little rickety looms.

Yes, one learns an easy lesson here, in these oriental countries, of the contrast between the hand that weaves and the body that wears the stuffs that adorn the world’s gayest places. In Agra, behind the barred gate, I saw the chained prisoners of the jail weaving most patiently one rich India carpet for the ex-Empress Eugenie, and another, of different figure, but even more rich, for Queen Victoria. It takes about six months for the workers to finish their work. As they weave, one hears the clank of the chains about their feet. But, in the later years, when those great carpets will still delight the eye, few will ever think of the places where the fine wool from Cashmere was woven into such pleasing shapes.

DAMASCENE TRADITIONS.

There is nothing in the way of safe tradition in Damascus. They will show you—yes, what will they not show you? I let[560] them tell me everything, and have given no interdict to our dragoman. He is to tell me all the wildest traditions he pleases, and take me to every sacred spot, and I am to listen. No wonder he has brought me to the house of Ananias, the good friend of the blind Saul, before he became the far-seeing apostle to the Gentiles. We had to leave our carriage and go through several narrow and dirty streets, and got thoroughly wearied by the walk, and then had to wait for a key, and be surrounded by begging children, and be pounded between donkeys with heavily-burdened panniers, and be led down a damp stairway into the darkness, to find the way to the house of Ananias.

There is no harm in asking questions. So, to the question as to how they know this is where he lived, the answer came:

“Until lately, nobody knew where Ananias lived. But some years ago a learned man from the west came here and told us this was the place, and so it must be true.”

Now, I take this comfort: Ananias lived somewhere in Damascus, and there is as much probability that he lived here as anywhere else. That is enough for me. Why should we disturb things of such little moment?

But there is not much room for doubting the neighborhood of the place where Paul entered the city. It was the gate nearest the southern side of the city. The old Roman road northward terminated at the gate. It is probable that no change has taken place in the road, and that it follows just the general line, and even the curves, that it did in the remote period. On this southern side of Damascus there has been but little change in the wall from Paul’s day to ours. You can see at a glance that all the lower part of the wall is of Roman work. The blocks are large, clear cut, and brought into closest brotherhood without a grain of mortar. The joining is still perfect. It was the wall of Paul’s time, and only the upper part has been torn down and rebuilt. It is as easy to see the difference between Roman and Turkish workmanship as to trace the line between a Moslem mosque and the Theseum in Athens.

They will show you, in Damascus, the very place where Paul was let down from the wall in a basket. Let them enjoy their definite locality! But I did get, very near the alleged spot, an idea which I had never had before—that there was a mode of building which favored the letting down of any one from the top of the wall. One can see, in several places on this same southern side of Damascus, that people live in houses adjusted on the top of the wall itself. I saw one of these diminutive houses which projected over the wall so far that one might well wonder why it did not fall down to the earth. What more natural thing than that Paul was let down from just such a place. There was not a gate in the wall near by, and nothing was more natural and easy than to aid his escape in this way.

I lingered some time about the Roman gateway. It is an enchanting spot. The great blocks of stone, the pillars, the archway, the smooth stones, over which you walk to reach it, the general curve of the wall, tell of the Roman times, and bring you face to face with the little church in Damascus which was soon to set the whole eastern and western world ablaze by its leading of Paul to the light. Along all the ways, out by this Roman gate, the people were twisting silk, and getting it ready for the loom. It was of hard fiber, yellow, rich, and glistening in the afternoon shimmer of the sun, as it came back from the pink sides of the Anti-Libanus mountains. There was no available spot which was not utilized by long stretches of the silk cord. It was drawn off in all directions, and we had to walk carefully to keep from stumbling against the twister’s twist.

THE CAMELS.

Not very far from the Roman gate was the great camel space. It was the point of departure for caravans to Palmyra, Mecca, and the whole eastern world. Here were hundreds of camels. They seemed to be waiting for the finishing burdens. Some were already loaded, and were pausing for the rest. I know not how long it requires for the completing of a caravan. But it seems that when some camels are loaded they are taken to the outside space, and are kept watch over until all of the others are ready. It must be no small or brief matter to get a caravan ready. Then, when the last camel is laden, and he takes his place in the caravan, and the signal is given to move on, what a commotion it makes! Friends come down to see their friends off. It is the moving off of many people, and of vast treasures of merchandise. Merchants and travelers, and many others who wish to go to the distant places across the desert, for any purpose whatever, go with the caravan. It is the safest way, for the train is guarded, and has, I imagine, the protection of the government. There is something singularly poetical, as well as practical, in the moving of the caravan. It is a thing which does not occur every day. Much commercial gain depends upon its safe conduct and arrival. The camels must be of just the right kind to endure the long journey and the great fatigue. The gait is slow and dull. There is the dreariest monotony. Yet this is the way these people have been traveling and doing business, and keeping up the connections for all these long ages. As things now seem, it would appear to be ages still before the railway, or even the wagon, will take the place of the much-enduring camel, the ship of the desert.

BUCKLE’S GRAVE.

Close beside the space allotted for the camels which make the long caravans for Damascus, I came across the little English cemetery. It is a quiet spot, surrounded by a high wall. The gate was locked, and there was no way of getting within it. I could not tell where the key was to be found; wherever it was, it was a long distance off, in the heart of the city. So, by the aid of our dragoman, I succeeded in climbing to the top of the wall, and seeing the one grave in which I was most interested—that of Henry Thomas Buckle, the author of the “History of Civilization.” Buckle had wearied himself out with literary work. His methods were not the most wise nor expeditious. He was an indefatigable gleaner of facts, and a patient gatherer of notes from all quarters, and he piled up his note-books in great heterogeneous masses. He seems to have had but little help, and not to have husbanded his strength. So, like many men who begin to rest when it is all too late, he went off on distant travel. He reached Damascus. His mind must have kindled afresh as he saw this city of weavers and strange oriental combinations, and the thought of the long and hoary history of the place. But he was too weary to think longer. He lay down to die, and here he rests, under the shadow of the thick and high walls of a little graveyard, where only seldom an Anglo-Saxon comes to visit the sacred place. The accumulation of years is beginning to tell upon the inscription. But it is still very legible, and gives the record of his brief and toiling life.

There is something singularly touching in this little graveyard. There are only a few graves, yet among them, besides Buckle’s, are several English noblemen and titled ladies. The inscriptions repeat the story of love and tears, as everywhere else. None who come here expect to die. But the difficulties of removal are great. There are great and long settled superstitions against the transportation of the dead in all these eastern countries. The best way is to let our friends lie where they fall, and to care for the perpetual beauty of their resting place. The little graveyards of the Anglo-Saxons in all the eastern cemeteries make a strange appeal to the sympathies. I have seen many of them, and always they teach a new lesson of the suddenness of death, of the pilgrimage which we call life, and of the burning love of those who remain behind, and who write their words of tenderest affection upon stone in far-off lands.

THE GREAT MOSQUE.

There are few mosques which have a more interesting history than the great one of Damascus. Of all those in existence,[561] save only that of Mecca, the greatest interest probably clusters about this one. It is not as splendid as that of St. Sophia, in Constantinople, and yet it has some elements of touching story that not even that one possesses. It stands upon the foundation of a Greek temple. In the early Christian ages it required only an imperial order to convert a temple into a church. So, when the Emperor Arcadius, toward the close of the fourth century, wished to convert this temple into a church, all he needed to do was to declare his will, and hurl out the pagan priesthood, and make a few minor changes, and the deed was done. It became a splendid church, whose fame went out into all lands. Thus it remained until the rise of the Mohammedan faith. When Damascus was conquered, so arduous was the strife that the leader of the Christians met the leader of the Moslems near the spot where the church stood, and, by agreement, part of the church was given up to the Mohammedans, and part still reserved by the Christians. But Christian and Moslem had the same doorway. This state of things could not last a great while. The Caliph Omar I. asked the Christians to sell their right to a part of the church. They refused, and then he took it from them. But he was fair enough to given them perpetual right to other churches in the city and its environs. He then set to work to beautify and make still more splendid this ancient building. He is said to have brought from Constantinople 1,200 skilled artists, and to have searched over all Syria for the most splendid pillars and architectural adornments, with which to beautify and enlarge the building. Precious stones were used for mosaic, vines of solid gold were made to run over the archways, the wooden ceiling was overlaid with a plating of gold, and from its glittering height there hung six hundred gold lamps.

The wars and time have told strangely upon this rich, historical building. The lamps are gone, no doubt to serve the purposes of warfare. The plating on the ceiling has disappeared, probably for the same reason. Much of the splendor has departed. But there are still the magnificent columns, with mutilated capitals and defaced bases, which once belonged to the Greek pagans of Syria, and in their long life, have witnessed the worship of Baal, Jupiter, Mohammed, and the one true Savior.

The present reminders of the time when this vast building of four hundred and twenty-nine feet in length and one hundred and twenty-five feet wide, was new, are numerous and very prominent. Everywhere, at every step you take, you see the old peering out boldly through the new and the late. Here is a patch of rich and deep-stoned mosaic, which has escaped a thousand destructive forces, and still stands as a witness to the time of remote Christianity, when Mohammed was not yet born. The stained windows, with glass so somber and subdued that one can hardly see even this blazing Syrian sun’s rays through it, are few in number, but they must have been made by Christian hands, in the far gone and fading Byzantine times. Even the Roman peers through the Christian, and one sees strong evidences of the times when the star had not yet stood over the manger at Bethlehem, and when the Greek paganism ruled from the Mediterranean to the borders of India. Here is an archway with only one stone missing, which is as perfect a bit of Greek architecture as Athens can furnish to-day.

One of the most singular features of this building is this—the respect which the Mohammedan shows here for Christianity. I have seen nothing equal to it elsewhere. There is here, belonging to the Greek mosque, the Madinet ’Isa, or “Minaret of Jesus,” and the Mohammedans have a belief that when the Christ comes he will appear on this minaret. Bloody as has been the history of Damascus, and violent as has often been the treatment of the Christians by the natives, the Mohammedans have been compelled to respect the Christians, and to remember the relation of this wonderful city to early Christianity.

Let me give another illustration of how the old still looks through the new. To the dragoman I said, when he seemed to have shown us everything:

“Where is that Christian inscription?”

“Oh,” he replied, “nobody goes there much now. It is dangerous to get to it. You have to leap across a bazar, from one house-top to another. It is very dangerous.”

There were two ladies in our little party, and they were not at all frightened by the outlook. It was simply a dragoman’s excuse to save himself a little trouble. We all agreed that Franz must show us the inscription. We went out of the mosque, down the street, then into the silver bazar, then up a rickety stairway, and finally out over the flat roofs of various buildings back to the outer wall of the mosque. We were at the limit, and either had to leap over a deep span, the width of a narrow street, or put a wide board across it. A couple of piasters soon provided the board from a man who was just waiting to serve us, and in one minute more we were reading, along the architrave of one side of the old mosque, these words from David, in early Greek:

This inscription has stood here through all the years since they were put there first by the Christians of the fourth century, after they had changed the temple into the church. The letters are as clear as the sun in the heavens.

It is, perhaps, the only illustration where Mohammedanism has permitted a Christian inscription to stand. It is not likely to be removed in the future, but will come into use when all the mosques are again made into Christian temples.

It is not an easy climb to the top of one of these lofty minarets. But we resolved to do it. The picture never fades from the mind. Toward the west we could see, as though within arm’s length, Ubel Sheikh, or Mount Hermon, with its great folds of snow, that make his perpetual turban of spotless white. Out from the sides of the Anti-Libanus burst the Abana and Pharpar, which go singing down to the desert, and produce the damascenes of all the countries. Yonder is the Christian quarter, there the Jewish, and in another direction the Mohammedan. Far off to the northeast lies Palmyra. But we can not see it. It is a four days’ camel journey distant. The illimitable desert stretches east and south and north, and these two “better rivers” of Damascus lose themselves in those two little lakes, whose silver surface just glistens a little in this perfect sun. Fruit trees are everywhere in bloom. The almond, the plum—the damson takes its name from Damascus—and the apricot, are everywhere in full blaze, and make the city one vast nosegay. The murmur of fountains rises from a thousand courts, while the streets are alive with the streams which have been vexed and teased away by many a device from these living rivers. You get weary with the view.

We now descend. How shall we see the way down the dingy steps? By the same lamp which had guided us up. Yes, it is a veritable coal-oil lantern. Think of it—the mixing up of the centuries! My Anglo-Saxon feet have been guided to the topmost point of one of the world’s oldest buildings here in grand and hoary Damascus, by the aid of a kerosene lantern, every drop of whose petroleum has come from Oil City or its neighborhood.

Damascus, March 8, 1885.

I do not pretend that books are everything.… Some day I may say some very hard things about people who keep their books so close before their eyes that they can not see God’s world, nor their fellow men and women. But books rightly used are society.—E. E. Hale, in “How to Do It.”

[562]

THE BOSTON MUSEUM OF FINE ARTS.

BY CLARENCE COOK.

SECOND PAPER.

Before proceeding to describe the contents of the second floor of the Museum, I must say a few words about the School of Drawing and Painting which, for the present, has its home in the building.

Although it is generally thought by those who hear of this school, and always in connection with the Museum, that it is a department of the institution, yet in fact it is only partially under the control of the trustees.

It will be remembered that the Museum was not made all at once, and out of whole cloth, so to speak, but was formed by bringing together certain collections already existing—the Athenæum casts and pictures, and the Gray collection of engravings, for instance, and by offering hospitality to certain projects connected with the study of the arts, which were in the air, but which could not take shape without some such help as an institution could give.

As my readers know, the Museum became a fact in 1876, but two years earlier, in 1874, there had been earnest talk about a school of drawing and painting, and though nothing was actually done, yet the ground was prepared by much discussion for establishing such a school on right principles of theory and practice when the time should come for doing something. The Museum once established, the trustees conferred with those of their fellow-citizens who had been urging the foundation of a school; the trustees offered rooms in the new building, the others raised the necessary funds to equip the school, and on Tuesday, January 2, 1877, the school was opened.

The school is under the control of a permanent committee, consisting of four painters, three architects, the three principal officers of the Museum, and two other gentlemen. The rooms occupied by the school are in the basement of the building; they are well lighted, warmed, and ventilated, and are furnished with all the necessary means and appliances for instruction, while the pupils have, in addition to the excellent teaching provided for them in the school itself, the advantage of free access to the permanent collections of the Museum, as well as to the special exhibitions that, from time to time, take place in the building. The school holds a high rank among similar institutions in the country; it is under the able and high minded management of Mr. Frederic Crowninshield, and it is sincerely to be hoped that before long it may find itself in quarters more ample, and better suited to the dignity of so important a factor in the culture of the community. At the same time the hope may be expressed, that the school and the Museum may never part company, but that their relations, on the contrary, may grow closer and stronger, and that in time the school may become an active part of the foundation, and be put under the complete control of the trustees. There could not be a better place for students than an institution like this, where daily seeing the finest forms of antique art, and constantly increasing opportunities for acquaintance with good modern work, illustrate and strengthen the lessons learned in the school itself.

Immediately in front of the visitor as he enters the Museum rises the ample staircase that leads to the upper rooms. The stairs mount in a broad flight in the middle of the hall, to the first landing, where they divide, and returning on themselves finish the ascent in two flights, one at the right hand and the other at the left. On this first landing was at one time placed a handsome original example of the carved settles or benches of the Italian Renaissance, but this has now been replaced by a cast of the reclining female figure called Cleopatra, but to which the name of Ariadne is now more commonly given. The original marble is in the Vatican. This cast is one of those purchased with the bequest of the late Charles Sumner. On the walls of the staircase and of the upper hall several pictures are hung, among them a few that have, at least for Americans, a historic interest. Here are the “Belshazzar’s Feast” of Washington Allston, a picture at one time much talked and written about, and which played an important part in the artist’s life; the “St. Peter delivered from Prison,” by the same painter; the “King Lear” of Benjamin West, and the “Sortie from Gibraltar” of Jonathan Trumbull. Of course these pictures are only placed here for a time, until the Museum building shall be enlarged, for when all deductions have been made on the score of artistic merit that sound criticism can demand, they will still remain as monuments in our development, and as such deserve to be hung where they can be better seen.

Lack of room crowds into the hall of this second story a number of small works, such as the collection of water-color copies from the pictures of Dutch and Italian masters made for the late Mr. Douse, and by him bequeathed to the Athenæum. They are of little value except as memoranda, and might as well be removed from their frames, mounted, and consigned to the custody of portfolios in the print-room.

Of far more value are the drawings in chalk, in pencil, and in pastel by the late J. F. Millet, belonging to Mr. Martin Brimmer; they were among the first things loaned to the Museum, and they still remain among the most valuable for delight and for instruction. At the same end of the hall, and so placed that the light from the large window is most advantageous to it, is placed a cast of the second of the Gates, made by Lorenzo Ghiberti for the Baptistery in Florence.

At the left hand, as we leave the stairs, is the entrance to the extensive loan-collections which fill all but one of the rooms on this side of the building. Although they are directly over the rooms on the first floor, the space they occupy is not so subdivided; we have only four rooms above the five below. The apartment we first enter is a large one, fifty-five feet long by thirty-two wide, and was formerly given up to the pictures which have since been transferred to the answering room on the opposite side of the building. The room opening out of this, at the western end, and of nearly the same size, is devoted to the same object, but it would be impossible within our narrow limits to give an adequate notion of their contents, particularly since, owing to want of space, no scientific arrangement is possible, and the dazed spectator moves about among objects of great value and interest, brought from every clime and belonging to every age, but deprived of much of their value because the key which order gives, is wanting.

The department of textiles, embroideries and laces is full, and of great value, and includes some Italian stuffs and embroideries purchased by the Museum under the direction of the late Alessandro Castellani. There are some fine Flemish tapestries which came from the Château de Neuilly, and a few other pieces of value, but the Museum is richest in that part of the loan collection which belongs to Japan. Dr. W. S. Bigelow has loaned to the Museum his magnificent collection of objects from that country, and it may be said of it that in the[563] field of embroideries, lacquers, swords, sword-mounts, bronzes, ivories, and ceramics, it exhausts the subject. It is now greatly to be desired that some one should undertake the collection of the works of the Japanese artists in painting—a field of great importance, and strangely neglected.

The Museum is rich in specimens of pottery and porcelain of Oriental and European manufacture. In the latter field it is richer than the Metropolitan Museum of New York, but the Avery collection of Chinese and Japanese porcelain in the New York Museum is finer in quality and more complete in its representative character than anything the Boston Museum has. It is also far more attractively displayed. The collection of Captain Brinckley, of Japan, of eight hundred and forty-two pieces of Chinese and Japanese porcelain, loaned to the Boston Museum since 1884 is, however, an acquisition of great value and artistic interest, and although not particularly well displayed is instructively arranged and classified.

In the large western room there is a considerable number of small objects of the period of the Italian Renaissance, some bronzes belonging to the Athenæum, and some medals loaned by Mr. Charles C. Perkins; there is also a considerable number of reproductions of Italian medals, made by Elkington, of London, which serve a useful purpose in the absence of original specimens. There are also, in this room, several good pieces of Italian majolica; two specimens of the Della Robbia ware—one attributed to Luca, the other to Andrea, both loaned by Mr. Perkins. The collection is not rich in glass, either antique or modern. There are a few pieces of old Venetian glass, but they are neither very interesting nor very valuable.

On the south side of this division of the Museum are two rooms, one of which is occupied with a miscellaneous collection of objects in carved wood and ivory, Italian marriage chests, cabinets, tables, etc., etc., with some Japanese objects, chiefly swords, while the other is fitted up with carved oak of the sixteenth century, the lining of a room in some English house, with additions from other quarters. This is an extremely interesting apartment, and, besides the wood-carving, contains six portraits painted on panel, and forming a part of the original decoration of the room; among them heads of Henry VIII., Edward VI., and Queen Elizabeth. There are several pieces of antique furniture in this room, and in the center a glass case containing some good illuminated manuscripts. The mantelpiece, in the style of the period, is a modern reproduction.

Returning to the stair-case hall, and crossing to the eastern side of the building, we find ourselves in the picture-galleries. The shape and disposition of these rooms are similar to those in the opposite wing, but owing to the greater height of the sculpture-gallery on the ground floor at the eastern end, the space above it, divided into two rooms, is several feet higher than the rest of the wing. The great height of the upper story permits this division be to made without injury to the effect.

The pictures belonging to the Museum are not without interest, although their value is not very great, if reckoned in money. The early American pictures include portraits by Copley, Stuart, Allston, and West, but with the exception of the well-known portraits of Washington and Mrs. Washington, by Stuart, there is nothing here of particular interest, although there are often pictures loaned to the Museum by old residents of Boston, which are historically valuable. It is much to be desired that the collection of portraits by Copley in the Museum of Harvard College could be deposited in the Museum. There ought to be in this institution as complete a representation of the early art of the country as can be procured, and it would be comparatively easy to accomplish this at the present time. It must not be inferred that the authorities of the Museum have neglected this portion of their mission. On the contrary, they have rendered important service in this direction, and the special exhibitions have been of interest, and of great importance. Beside miscellaneous loan collections, there have been exhibitions of the works of Allston, of William M. Hunt, and of George Fuller, and every year the visitor finds representative pictures by artists of repute at home and abroad, which excite interest, discussion, criticism, and keep the flame of art and the love of art burning, even if—and this by no fault of the institution—comparatively few avail themselves of the light. The French school of painters which had its seat near the Forest of Fontainebleau, and which is associated with the names of Millet, Corot, Rousseau, and Diaz, is better represented here than any other of the modern schools, although Courbet and Couture are both seen in good examples, Courbet especially, of whom there is a fine picture, “La Curée”—the huntsman winding his horn to call the chase together to cut up the stag. The Couture is the Heads of Two Soldiers seen in profile, and though of no importance as subject, is a good example of his method.

The school of Fontainebleau, or more properly speaking, of Barbizon, is represented by the large “Dante and Virgil,” a companion in size to the “Orpheus” of the Cottier collection in New York, but by no means so fine a work. There is no important work by Millet at present, although there have been here some good examples from time to time, and especially his “Sower,” the fine replica of that picture belonging to Mr. Quincy A. Shaw, with other smaller subjects, particularly a Sheep-shearing, a picture in which all that is best in Millet was to be seen.

The picture gallery at the Museum is such a movable feast that it would be useless to attempt a catalogue of its contents. Just now the “Automedon taming the Horses of Achilles,” by Baptiste Regnault, the “Joan of Arc,” by Bastien Lepage, and “The Walk by the River Side,” by Henri Lerolle, are among the most noticeable of the contents of the large room, although there are a number of smaller pictures that are well worth looking at. There is an effort making to purchase the picture by Regnault, and the Lerolle was presented to the Museum in 1884 by Mr. Francis C. Foster.

The remaining rooms in this portion of the building are a small one in which some fine old Dutch paintings are exhibited, and those which contain the Gray collection of engravings. The Dutch pictures, it is hoped, will one day belong to the Museum; they will form a valuable addition to its collection.

The Gray collection fills the room which runs along the southern side of this wing answering to the large picture gallery which is parallel with it on the north. This collection, formed for the late Francis C. Gray by M. Thies, a German connoisseur, is one of the two or three important collections of prints that are owned in America, and in some departments is excelled by none, while the fact that there is a fund derived from moneys left by Mr. Gray, which is devoted to the maintenance and increase of the collection, gives it the advantage over all others here, and ensures its one day becoming of national importance. It is already very rich in Rembrandts and Dürers, but the aim of those who have it in charge is to make it representative in its character, not of any one school in particular but of all the schools and styles of engraving which have existed. The collection is under the intelligent care of Mr. Edward H. Greenleaf, who makes the contents of the portfolios useful to the public by a series of exhibitions of the finest specimens of the various schools, accompanied with titles, notes, and instructive memoranda, so that in default of proper space for doing full justice to the collection in any permanent way, the course of the year brings before the eyes of students and visitors a considerable number of the prints, and thus makes no slight contribution to general enlightenment on the subject.

The next paper in this series will take up the Metropolitan Museum of New York.

[564]

SANITARY CONDITION OF SUMMER RESORTS.

BY THE HON. B. G. NORTHROP, LL.D.

The progress of modern civilization is marked by increasing attention to the sanitary condition of cities, towns and homes. Barbaric races are comparatively puny and short lived. Very old men are seldom found among savages, and the rate of mortality bears some proportion to the degree of barbarism, while early deaths everywhere diminish as the art and science of sanitation advance. The increase of knowledge and the influence of Christianity have greatly lengthened human life. Science is constantly showing how many diseases and deaths are preventable. These facts are abundantly established by statistics in all the most educated nations, and, more recently, by the careful investigations of life insurance companies and public boards of health. There has been a far greater advance in sanitary science during the last fifty years than in any previous century. But the popular appreciation of this science, though steadily advancing, has not kept pace with its discoveries. The pressing demand now is the diffusion of the art of sanitation—the practical application of its methods by the people at large. The public press, the daily, weekly and monthly journals are doing much in this direction. Some of the most widely circulated religious journals have a column regularly devoted to this subject. Our schools are helping on this good work, and here the art of promoting health and prolonging life should be learned and then applied in the family. Such principles, though they seem truisms to the scientist, should be taught to our youth, who should early memorize mottoes like the following: “Health is the prime essential to success.” “The first wealth is health.” “The health of the people is the foundation upon which all their happiness and all their power depend.” “The material precedes and conditions the intellectual.” The school may do more to popularize sanitary science than any other one agency. When this work is once done here, it will not long be true that a large proportion of our people are still living in ignorance and violation of so many of the essential laws of health. The popular neglect of such laws should not be overlooked in our gratification at their discovery.

Our wisest sanitarians affirm that more than one fourth of the diseases which still afflict modern life are preventable. Great prominence has recently been given to this subject in England and other European countries. Dr. Simon, chief medical officer of the English Privy Council, says that “the deaths which we in each year register in this country (now about five hundred thousand) are fully a hundred and twenty-five thousand more numerous than they would be, if existing knowledge of the chief causes of disease, as affecting masses of population, were reasonably well applied throughout England.” With our larger population, probably a still larger number of lives in America might be prolonged by the more general observance of the laws of health. If 125,000 needless deaths occur annually, that implies 3,500,000 needless sicknesses, there being on an average twenty-eight cases of sickness to every death. Saying nothing of the hopes thus blasted and the hearts and homes desolated, the mere money value of the lives thus prematurely ended every year would amount to many millions of dollars, often involving the abandonment of lucrative enterprises, and inducing poverty if not pauperism. In this lowest view, it costs to be sick and it costs to die.

Modern civilization relates specially to the homes and social life of the people, to their health, comfort and thrift, their intellectual and moral advancement. In earlier times and other lands men were counted in the aggregate and valued as they helped to swell the revenues or retinues of kings and nobles. The government was the unit, and each individual only added one to the roll of serfs or soldiers. With us the individual is the unit, and the government is for the people, as well as by the people. This interest in the people has been manifested in new laws for protecting their health, and by the general organization of State and local Boards of Health.

Their investigations have embraced not only the needs of cities, towns and individual homes, but have revealed startling facts as to the unsanitary condition, and consequently the peril, of certain summer resorts. Cases of loss of life from the burning of hotels have led to the enactment of laws requiring fire escapes. On account of disasters by the explosion of steam boilers, all steamboats are required to get a “bill of safety” from an official expert examiner. But the violations of sanitary laws in boarding houses, hotels and summer resorts have produced annually far more sickness and death than have such fires and explosions. The circumstantial horrors connected with these sudden and terrible disasters produce a deep and lasting impression, and prompt to stringent, preventive laws, while the deaths from bad sanitary conditions, though more numerous, are so isolated as to attract little notice. The patronage of summer resorts is already so large, and is so rapidly increasing from year to year, as to multiply their number and increase their attractions. This summer migration from city to country is more than a fashion, and is favored by such substantial reasons as to insure its permanence and growth. Even city clerks have their fortnight’s vacation for rest and refreshment by the seaside or among the hills and mountains. There is a greater exodus of teachers and members of all professions during their longer vacations—still more, families, and especially those having young children, seek this escape from the heat, dust, and miasmatic exhalations of the crowded city. Though their children may have attended the kindergarten in the city, they find the best sort of kindergarten in the open fields and varied objects of the country, with its wider range for rambles and those freer sports that are so attractive to every wide-awake boy, such as boating, fishing, hunting, watching turtles, gathering bugs and butterflies, roaming in the woods, taking long excursions on the lakes or rivers, climbing steep hills and rocky cliffs, loving flowers, observing the properties of plants and trees, and the names, habits, retreats and voices of the birds. Living much in the open air, nature becomes the great educator, and for the summer at least, the country proffers superior advantages for the physical, mental and moral training of youth. The boy, for example, who observes the birds so as to distinguish them by their beak, claws, form, plumage, song or flight has gained an invaluable habit of accurate observation never acquired while cooped up in a city.

The apprehension of cholera during the present summer is likely to increase the patronage of rural resorts. The condition of some dense centers of population invites this pest. Its most terrible ravages last summer in Naples, Marseilles and Toulouse occurred in the squalid dens so long the reproach of those cities. Our summer retreats should all be health resorts in fact as well as in name. Yet many of them—little villages in winter, with a population of a few scores or hundreds—are too often ill-prepared to be suddenly expanded into cities with a population of many thousands, during the hottest and most trying months of the year. Several State Boards of Health, within a few years, have examined many watering-places and[565] have been reluctantly compelled to make startling statements as to their unsanitary conditions.

In some cases these unwholesome and unwelcome discoveries, though a surprise and regret to the owners, were accepted as facts, and the needful remedies promptly applied. In other instances, such disagreeable revelations awakened resentment and were treated as absurd alarms or slanderous attacks, and ignorance and prejudice held their ground undisturbed.

In regard to one famous resort the State Board of Health of Massachusetts said six years ago: “The unsanitary grounds invite a pestilence. They violate the plainest teachings of hygienic common sense. There is no adequate provision for the removal of refuse, and the wells and privies are everywhere in close proximity, and some of the latter are immense and offensive affairs, emptied only once a year, in the absence of the summer boarders. At a large boarding house the sink drain empties on the ground within three feet of the well, and at another, the well is within a foot of an open trough sink drain, so filled and obstructed that the water sets back, and a filthy puddle surrounds the well.” These were mostly driven wells, reaching water from eight to twenty feet below the surface. The theory was, that the foulest water would be fully filtered by the soil above and around a driven well. The peddlers of this patent, with their boastful advertisements, are in a measure responsible for this mischievous error, which I have met in many states. I found a large hotel beyond the Missouri River, where, instead of even a cess-pool, the kitchen drainage gathered in a surface pool close to the well. At a bakery in another resort the sink drain and cess-pool are but twelve feet from the well. Twenty-four privies and thirteen cess-pools are within a radius of 140 feet of a well used by many families. When the water from forty wells was analyzed, the chemical examination proved that sixteen of them were bad and unsafe. The official State report for 1879 contains many pages of similar details. In fifteen days after the State Board of Health called attention to the results of this investigation, the citizens held a town meeting, at which it was unanimously voted that the Board of Health of this town should adopt all proper methods to perfect and enforce stringent sanitary regulations, and promising them their most cordial support in all reasonable efforts they may make in the furtherance of this end. The Board of Health of another well-known resort, after a careful examination of the sanitary condition of Oak Bluffs and Martha’s Vineyard Camp-grounds, frankly said that “unless proper remedial measures were carried out, the abandonment of the place, as a residence for health, is but a question of time.” The State Board subsequently commended this local board for adopting wise sanitary regulations and carrying them out with such energy that the high reputation of the place as a health resort might be preserved.

The same report says: “It must not be taken for granted that this condition of things is confined to one place. Visits to various seaside resorts of a similar character on both north and south shores show little change for the better. Many individual cases are worse.”

The official inspection of many such summer resorts revealed sickening details connected with the large hotels and boarding houses. One hundred and fifty summer houses examined were, almost without exception, objectionable, on the score of danger to health, due in part to foul air, but more to contaminated well water. There is always a risk in the use of such water, and the only safe rule is to make privies and cess-pools absolutely tight, and frequently empty and disinfect them, so that they can not poison the water supply. Nearly every State health report abounds in instances of the outbreak of typhoid fever due to bad well water, and one affirms that the majority of wells in the rural districts of that state are tainted.

As is my custom, in order to adapt my lectures on “Village Improvements” to local needs, I made a cursory inspection of the streets and private grounds in the town of ⸺, which revealed a prolific source of peril to its citizens. Though I had heard nothing of the actual experience of the place, I spoke in strong terms of the danger of an early outbreak of typhoid fever and diphtheria, from the proximity of vaults and wells. After the lecture I was informed that such a dire visitation had already desolated many homes, but it was regarded as “a mysterious visitation of Providence,” and nothing was done to abate the obvious cause of the pestilence. I find it exceedingly difficult to convince men of any danger from their water supply. They are apt to resent a disparagement of their wells as they would of their children, and yet I seldom inspect a town where there is not found urgent need of the warning, “Look carefully to your wells.” Gross sanitary defects are often found even around the homes of isolated farmers, with every natural advantage for drainage and healthfulness. Hence I advise that securing “better sanitary conditions in our homes and surroundings” be made prominent among the various objects of the “Village Improvement Associations” organized in many states, and now numbering nearly three hundred.

The unsanitary condition of Memphis invited the terrible scourge of yellow fever in 1878. The occurrence of four thousand deaths in one season compelled attention to the cause and remedy. If Memphis was then the filthiest and sickliest city of the South, it now claims to be the healthiest. The case demanded and received “heroic treatment.” Over forty-two miles of sewers have been built, on the most approved plan, with one hundred and ninety automatic flushing tanks, each discharging one hundred and twelve gallons of water twice a day. While collecting facts for a lecture there on “The Needs of Memphis,” I inspected the city, and especially the “man-holes,” in company with the city engineer, who had supervised their construction, and found in none of them any offensive odor. These improvements were costly, but the recent rapid growth of this city in population and wealth proves that these liberal expenditures were wise investments. The “death-pool” of 1878 now justly aspires to be a health resort. An excellent sewer system, with automatic flushing tanks, is now in use in Denver, Colorado. I made a similar examination of the man-holes there last October, with similar results, and received the testimony of a prominent physician, to the marked diminution of zymotic diseases since the completion of the new sewers.

Cumulative evidence on the danger of using tainted water might be given to an indefinite extent, like the following: Thirty-one out of one hundred inmates of a convent in Munich, affected with typhoid fever; the outbreak of typhoid fever in Princeton, New Jersey, two years ago; the fearful epidemic at Waupun, Wisconsin, in April last, and the terrible pestilence now desolating Plymouth, Pa. are all attributed to infected water. In Plymouth nearly one hundred persons have already died, and over one thousand have been prostrated—in the opinion of the physicians, poisoned by water pollution. Such facts should everywhere prompt to sanitary precautions, and enforce the motto, “Eternal vigilance is the price of public health.”

In a popular summer resort of Massachusetts there occurred eighty cases of typhoid fever during 1881, out of a population of only 1,500. The citizens were alarmed, and prompt and thorough investigation discovered and removed the cause. The mischief had been done mainly by tainted water. The remedies suggested by the board of health—clearing of premises, securing of better drainage and plumbing, removing of all decomposing matter, abolishing all cess-pools and leaching vaults, draining marshes and pumping out and cleansing all wells and cisterns that afforded chemical evidence of being tainted—were energetically applied. The owners of these beautiful cottages and villas spared no effort or expense to restore[566] this attractive resort to its former salubrity. If any community of its size was ever more earnest, prompt and united in such a work of restoration, I should be glad to learn its name. In the face of peculiar difficulties on this rocky peninsula, nearly five miles of sewers were constructed. Hundreds of chemical analyses of the drinking water were made. Of the wells and cisterns so examined, nearly sixty per cent. contained water unfit for drinking or cooking. As a result of this renovation, the local board of health is quoted in the Massachusetts report for 1883 as saying: “These vigorous correctionary measures completely checked the epidemic, and not a single case of the fever has since appeared here that could not be traced to some other locality for its origin.”

Another seaside city, much resorted to in summer, with a regular population of over 3,000, after suffering severely from zymotic diseases, especially typhoid fever, requested the State Board of Health to investigate the cause of this excessive mortality. Nine tenths of the population here are crowded in one village of small area, having many narrow streets, with small house lots, necessitating a dangerous proximity of cess-pools, privy vaults and wells. This danger is increased by the nature of the soil, mostly sand or gravel, that facilitates rapid percolation. The climate itself is pronounced more equable and salubrious than that of any other part of the State, and therefore specially attractive to the health-seeker. The mean winter temperature is seven degrees warmer than that of Cambridge. The insular position of the town, and the sensible proximity of the Gulf Stream lend their combined influence to modify the extremes of temperature, such as exist in the inland parts of the State. The summer temperature of the water upon its shores renders sea-bathing recreative, invigorating and pleasurable, even to the delicate invalid. With such rare natural advantages for salubrity, the high death rate is traced to preventable causes. The water of eleven wells showed, on chemical analysis, a great degree of pollution. The remedial plans, prepared at the suggestion of the State Board of Health, were submitted to the action of the town meeting held February, 1884, and were favorably received. But at a subsequent meeting, this favorable action was reconsidered, and since that time no action has been taken.

The last two reports of the State Board of Health of New Jersey contain valuable accounts of the sanitary investigations of the health resorts of that state. The following statements are abbreviated from these volumes. Within thirty miles of New York City is to be found half the population of the state of New Jersey. Of this number, according to the judgment of engineers, chemists, physicians, and boards of health, not one half are supplied with water fit to drink. As our risks from impure water are even more than those from ordinary impure air, it behooves all to guard against any contamination of potable water. If there is a neglect of sanitary care, and especially of a good water supply, it is too late to adopt the policy of concealment, or to point to a death rate of from twenty-six to thirty as a justification, when so large a city as London can point to a death rate of only twenty per thousand, and many an English town of 30,000 inhabitants, to a death rate of only sixteen or eighteen. The sea coast of New Jersey, more than that of any other state, abounds in popular summer resorts. The State Board of Health has carefully inspected these resorts, notified the proprietors of existing defects, and reported them to the public when they were not remedied. Their first visits were often occasions of protest, and even of denunciation on the part of proprietors, many of whom, on sober second thought, were convinced of the truth, and corrected the evils complained of. The latest inspection says that the sanitary condition of most of these places has been greatly improved. In 1883 it is said of ⸺, where are six hotels and over one hundred cottages, “This locality shows no improvement in its care of sanitary conditions. No skilled attention is given to drainage. The water supply is mostly from driven wells, which are generally surface wells. Privy vaults are of the crudest description. Slop water is disposed of in cess-pools, often in close proximity to wells. This sanitary lawlessness has not been without its deleterious results.” The last report speaks of the same place as improving, but there are still some sanitary defects.

One popular resort shows some marked improvements. While some of the large hotels have still rows of cess-pools, they are kept in better condition than formerly. Still it has not equaled expectation in its efforts to provide a much needed system of sewerage. The hotels exhibit some of the very best and some of the very worst methods for the disposal of water-closet refuse. In one hotel enormous brick vaults had no modes of ventilation, and nothing but the shortness of the season protects the inmates. These New Jersey resorts are no worse than those in other states, and as a rule are salubrious and most desirable retreats, but the self-satisfied carelessness of some wealthy owners of hotel property has made light of these defects, and they have been tardy in their correction. Visitors in such hotels, before taking rooms, should have an expert make a sanitary inspection in their behalf.

These facts from different states clearly show that the sanitary condition of summer resorts is the question of first importance to all who frequent them, and that a rural location, naturally salubrious, has often proved a death-pool when made the home of a dense crowd in the hottest months of the year. This frequent outbreak of preventable diseases in large watering places proves the necessity of applied hygiene in such resorts, where the management often betrays gross ignorance or carelessness on this vital point.

In this respect the Assembly grounds at Chautauqua form a happy exception. Some details may suggest the changes and plans needed elsewhere. Last summer, while meeting lecture appointments there, I made a cursory inspection of the grounds around each of the four hundred and twenty-eight cottages in this “city in a forest,” including its numerous boarding houses. The village is very compact, and the cottages are sometimes too closely crowded together. But everywhere the sanitary conditions are admirable. The three essentials—pure air, pure soil, and pure water—are well assured. Special effort is made to guard these three “Ps.” No old fashioned privies are now allowed. The last two nuisances of this sort were removed while I was on the grounds. Some ten public vaults are located at convenient points, each built of stone or brick, laid in cement, and thus made water tight. Each is daily supplied with disinfectants, and emptied every other night, and then well cleansed with water. There are sixty-seven private vaults, made in like manner, water tight, and frequently emptied. The water-closet pipes emptying into them are said to be all carefully trapped. The waste is conveyed by night to farms far away from the grounds.

Every family is required to provide a barrel for garbage, kitchen slops and wash water, which is emptied daily. No soiled water may be thrown on the grounds. The daily inspection detects any violation of this rule. There are no alleys, lanes, back yards or dumping grounds where garbage can be thrown and secreted. There is no filth-saturated soil, and the atmosphere is not tainted with the gases of decay. The decaying leaves, so abundant in this forest city, are removed or burned.

Numerous wells, carefully guarded from surface drainage, and eight springs furnish pure water. Borings some thirty feet deep, near the engine house by the lake, have opened three flowing springs, the water in five-inch pipes rising seven feet above the lake. This proves to be a mineral water (pronounced by Dr. Edwards, the lecturer on chemistry, a wholesome chalybeate tonic), is forced into a large tank on the hill, and thence distributed in pipes near the surface over the grounds free to all. There was little to criticise in the sanitary condition of the grounds, and the few suggestions which I made were promptly carried out by the efficient superintendent.

[567]

WAYSIDE HOMES.

BY HELEN CAMPBELL.

No form of charitable work undertaken in this busy century holds more perplexity and uncertainty than that for women, who, whether for great or small offenses, have come under the ban of the law, and who pass from the shadow of the prison to confront a public feeling which is, in the main, so absolutely antagonistic as to leave small chance for reform, or hope of making new and better place.

It is certain that there is much justification for such feeling. There are few in whom the missionary spirit is strong enough to enable them to accept undaunted, the possibilities involved in receiving as a member of the family, a woman whose desire for reform may be outweighed a thousand times by the power of her appetites, and whose influence may bring contamination to all within its reach. Even in less dangerous cases, where youth and ignorance are the excuses for the violation of law, there is always the fear that association with older offenders has given a knowledge of evil that will work equal disaster, and thus the door is as effectually closed against the slight as against the confirmed transgressor. It is part of the popular conviction that work for women is far less productive of results than work for men, a conviction that has a certain foundation of truth. Even in the Water Street Mission of New York, in which the most apparently hopeless class was reached and held, McAuley was constantly baffled by this fact, and in time accepted it as inevitable. He did not question, more than other workers have done, why this was so, or how far the world was responsible for the state of things he bewailed, but came at last, by almost unconscious steps, to the conclusion given in a talk with the writer.

“You’ve wondered, at times, that we didn’t have more women here,” he said, a year or two before his death. “Don’t you know that you can haul in a hundred men to one woman? What it means, the good Lord only knows, but they don’t stay put. They cry an’ promise, an’ promise an’ cry, an’ you do for ’em with all your might, an’ all at once they’re off, an’ may be you never see ’em again.… When a girl’s once down, it isn’t once in five hundred times that you can pull her out. Take that very one you was so sorry for. She’s been to every meeting ’round here, an’ cried an’ begged to be helped. She’s been taken first to one ‘Home’ an’ then to another, an’ she’s run from every one back to her old life. The system’s wrong. That’s my opinion. You take a ‘Home’ where a lot are in together, an’ the devil’s let loose. They chew tobacco an’ chew snuff, an’ get drunk on the sly, an’ the old ones tell the young ones all their lives, an’ the last end is worse than the first, for they learn a lot of deviltry to add to their own. There ain’t but one way, as I can see, to save ’em. Keep ’em apart. Let Christian families that can, make up their minds to take one at a time; hedge her round; give her enough to do, an’ get her interested, an’ pray night an’ day she may be kept. That will save a good many, for it’s mostly worked where it’s been tried. But there ain’t anything in our work so discouragin’ as this very thing. What you going to do? These girls comin’ out of homes where a dozen, may be, has herded in one room, what do they know of decency or cleanliness? What can they know, I’d like to know? No, I tell you; the work’s got to begin at the beginning. Get hold of the children. Send them off. Do anything that’ll train them differently. They’re born in sin and born to sin, and the Lord only knows what’ll come if good men and women don’t wake up and take hold.”

Admitting the serious nature of the difficulties involved, it is quite certain that many of them have been born of an utterly false estimate of the relative degrees of guilt in men and women. Neither time nor space allows discussion of this point beyond the suggestion that in the present White Cross movement, and the questions that at once arise as the first necessity in any understanding of its nature or need, may be found the secret of much that has made against women. Simple justice, the last acquired and, it would seem, the hardest won of all virtues, makes chastity as binding an obligation upon man as upon woman, and gives to both, when repentant, the same pardon and the same hope for a future. Thus far, charity has ignored the woman, forcing her to bear not only the pain and sorrow of unblessed motherhood, but the sentence of perpetual banishment from the society whose laws she has defied.

It is at this stage that workers among the poor most often find her, hopeless, and in the large proportion of cases driven back to crime as her only resort. They form a great proportion of the inmates of any prison for women. Every town and village has its quota of candidates for reformatory or jail, and mourns, collectively and individually, over the terrible tendencies of this class, with small thought that prevention may be easier than cure, and that if children born to such conditions come into the world, society is bound to see that their training shall, as far as possible, neutralize the results of such inheritance. Society has no time for prevention. It proposes to pay for prisons rather than for industrial schools; to labor with full fledged criminals, rather than to crush out vice while still in embryo, and congratulates itself on the magnificent liberality of its provision for the criminal, and the remarkable success of the prison system as a whole.

Women are supposed to be merely occasional offenders, and that there are, in every state, hundreds outside of the prison who are habitual law breakers, and an equally large proportion within its walls, is a proposition received as incredible. Yet it was not till Massachusetts found herself forced to deal with eight hundred per year of such cases, that the first reformatory was organized, in 1865, and the number has increased steadily with the increase in population. County prisons, of which there were twenty-one, were, too often, simply nests for propagating vice. In a few of the larger ones great order and system prevailed. In the smaller ones there was next to none, and male and female prisoners, dirty, ragged and obscene, mingled together and interchanged lessons in new forms of vice. In all of them three classes of offenses were to be found, women convicts being sentenced usually for drunkenness, unchastity, or larceny; the relative prevalence of the three being indicated by the order in which they are given. The first class, wherever found, are most often Irish women, at, or past, the middle age. They are not criminals, though at times, in some cases, dishonest or unchaste. Often they are eager to reform, and yield to the temptation to drink as many men yield, for the momentary relief from grinding care and anxiety. Many of them become accustomed to the short sentences usually given by magistrates for this offense, and there are countless women who have had thirty, forty, and even fifty short imprisonments. A long term, or, in aggravated cases, imprisonment for life, affords the only security, the mere smell of liquor being often enough to awaken appetite and bring on a wild debauch. The three crimes can in almost every case be traced back to a neglected childhood.

“My mother died whan I was a bit of a child, an’ my father drank and beat me,” is the story of nine tenths of these cases, and will remain the story. The life of a single great tenement[568] house, if told in full, as it has recently been done, shows how the seed is sown, and what harvest we may expect, and prison systems, however admirable, can touch but the smallest proportion of those who come within their walls. And even here, in this system, which deserves all the eulogy it receives, women have had but the most meager share of the benefit intended. It is only here and there that, spurred on by some great souled woman, wrought to white heat of indignation at the suffering and ignominy heaped upon these weak and most miserable sisters, there has grown up a better system of treatment, or a refuge in which reform has been made possible. Even to-day, in cities where reform is supposed to have perfected itself, there are Houses of Detention, at the mention of which compassionate judges shake their heads, and use any and every pretext to avoid condemning, for even a week, a young girl guilty of some first and slight offense, to their unspeakably infamous walls. Who enters there leaves hope behind, and life in any real sense, is over, once for all, for the sad soul that has learned what awaits it there.

In a little town of Massachusetts, many phases of this question have long since been answered. The work is so quietly carried forward that few save those interested in philanthropic problems have any knowledge of its nature or scope. In the belief that its story will awaken, not only interest, but stronger faith in the possibilities of reform, its outlines are given here. From its success grew the greater work which makes the title of the present article, a work which would have seemed well nigh impossible had not such demonstration first been made of its entire feasibility.

Practically, its foundation was laid in Dedham, thirty years or more ago, where a temporary asylum was afforded to women just discharged from prison, and much the same methods were adopted in the Springfield “Home for Friendless Women.” But as one of the most efficient workers wrote at the time: “The more thoughtful saw from the first that they were working only at the top of the tree, and must go to the root to accomplish real good in large measure. The necessity of making the term of imprisonment one also of instruction, was apparent; also the vital need of purifying the corrupted by personal contact with pure and good women, laboring among them in a spirit of love and sympathy.”

It was not until 1870 that, after a preliminary meeting in Boston, officered by some of her most earnest citizens, a memorial was presented to the legislature, in which the need was set forth of better prisons for women, and of a reformatory discipline for all criminals. This was called “The Memorial of the Temporary Asylum for Discharged Female Prisoners in Dedham, and of the Springfield Home for Friendless Women and Children, and of others concurring with them.” The names of Whittier, Henry Wilson, Bishop Eastburn, and many others equally noble, were affixed, and the almost immediate result was the establishment of the Prison Commission of the state, and a few years later, the building of the separate prison for women at Sherborn. Thirty acres of land were purchased here, and the prison was placed upon a knoll, from which one of the finest views in the county may be had, a neighboring pond giving a full supply of pure water, and the facilities for drainage being excellent. The form chosen for building was a cross, with two more transverse sections, one at the front, and one for hospital purposes, at the rear. But forty-eight strong cells for the more refractory class were built, the majority occupying small, separate rooms, divided by brick partitions, and each owning a window. The basement has two large laundries, one for prison, the other for outside use, the latter bringing in a comfortable income toward the support of the prison. Over this laundry is the prison kitchen and bakery, the work in both being done by the prisoners, under supervision. Above this, in the third story, is the large hall used as a chapel, and a library adjoining it, while the second story contains two large work rooms, one for sewing, and the other for making chair bottoms. Sewing machines are in the first one, and here all the clothing for the prison is made, as well as a good deal for another institution. A school room is also on this floor, occupied six hours a day, the women going to it in classes, each class having an hour’s instruction a day. Here many take their first lessons in reading and writing; easy arithmetic and geography are also taught.

The prison has four divisions, for the classification of convicts, the three higher ones each containing what is known as a “privilege room,” the prisoners who have obeyed the rules being allowed to spend an hour each evening under the supervision of the matrons, before they are locked in for the night. Four cheerful dining rooms are provided, and unlike the county jails, where prisoners eat alone from a tin pan, the women gather, under the supervision of matrons, each with neat plate and basin, learning order and decorum, and in many cases having their first experience of clean and palatable food. The matrons have comfortable rooms, commanding a view of the corridors, and a private dining room and kitchen in the basement. A parlor on the second floor is also at their disposal, thirty matrons and assistants using it in such intervals of leisure as come.

The chief officers may be either men or women, at the pleasure of the Governor, these being superintendent, steward and treasurer, the remainder being all women, and including a deputy superintendent, a chaplain, a physician, school mistress, and clerk. The wishes of the founders were carried out in making the superintendent a woman, Mrs. Edna C. Atkinson’s name having become the synonym for patient and most faithful labor in this untried field. There are others as worthy, but with her, they shrink from any public recognition, content to have laid silently the foundation of a work which is copied in detail wherever the same results are desired.

The hospital is a model of its kind, three stories in height, and thirty-two feet wide by seventy-seven long. The dispensary and wash room, the doctor’s sitting room and some small wards for special cases are on the first floor. The second one has a large ward, sunny and airy, with space for twenty beds, and at one side bath rooms, and a small room where the dead are laid until burial. The convalescent ward is on the third floor, and in each and all, is the exquisite neatness which is a revelation to every occupant. Of the physical misery that finds alleviation here, one can hardly speak. “Intemperance, unchastity, abuse from male companions, neglected childbirth, hereditary taints, poor food and clothing,” have all done their work, and demand all the skill the physician can bring to bear. The work is hard and often repulsive, but the sick prisoner is especially susceptible to influence, and often, when all means have been tried in vain, yields at last under the pressure of pain and gratitude for its relief, and goes out from the ward a new creature spiritually as well as physically.

From the beginning they are made to feel that here is one spot where love and sympathy are certain. There is no convict dress branding them at once as infamous. Each division has its own; blue check of different patterns being chosen to distinguish the different grades. The upper ones have neat white aprons for Sundays. Night dresses and pocket handkerchiefs are provided to teach neatness, and every woman is required to have smooth hair and a well-cared-for person. In the nursery, an essential department of a woman’s prison, the babies show well fed, happy faces, and are as neatly and warmly clothed as the mothers. This department has sixty rooms, each ten by twelve, with a bed and crib for mothers with infants, while above it is a lying-in ward, with all necessary appliances. Often there is not the slightest hint of maternal instinct, and the mother must be watched to prevent the destruction of the child, but more often it is strong, and desire for reform is first awakened with the longing that the child should know a better life. The bright, clean quarters, the regular employment, the sympathy and encouragement, on[569] which, no matter how skeptical or scoffing in the beginning, they come to depend, all foster this desire. Indifferent even to common decency in the beginning, unknown instincts awaken, and here is one answer to the argument sometimes made, that criminals have no right to attractive quarters. Here, again, the same worker already quoted may speak: “In the first place, the loss of liberty is a terrible privation, especially when the term of confinement is long. Most persons will bear any hardship rather than be confined, even in a pleasant place. The depraved women of our prisons are indifferent, at first, to the things which please a higher taste. The dark and filthy slums of Boston are far more charming to them than the clean and sunny prison. The work is hateful to their idle habits, and being unpaid, it has no motive to incite them to performance. The silent, separate rooms, the quiet work room, try them inexpressibly. There is no danger that the prison will be too tempting. They long for the intoxicating drink, the low carousals of their usual life, and when discharged from an ordinary prison, with no reformatory influence, eagerly rush into the old haunts, and begin anew the foul life.… Ferocious, indeed, are they, when long habits of intoxication, joined to ignorance and strong passions, are subjected to the restraints of a prison.”

“No woman can govern a ferocious woman,” was asserted in the beginning, by a well known Senator; but that point settled itself years since, women having proved better able to control women, no matter how brutalized, than any man has ever been. In one case a woman was sent from a neighboring prison, who came determined to create disturbance. Insurrection seemed inevitable, such passion of revolt had she communicated to many, but wise management quelled it at once. Three strong men were necessary to convey her from the yard to the punishment cell, but this was done under the personal direction of the superintendent, and the men were allowed no violence or abuse. For days she remained unsubdued; then quieted, and at the end of ten was conquered and transformed into a quiet, orderly, obedient worker.

“She was that patient and kind she did all she could for me,” was her comment on the superintendent, and her case is illustrative of dozens of the same nature. Nothing impresses them more than the unselfish nature of the care bestowed, and as their skill in manual labor develops, their interest grows with it, and they begin to take pride in what may be accomplished. They are ready, when the term of confinement ends, to lead decent lives, but they must be shielded for a time, else ruin is inevitable.

Here, then, comes in the mission of a “Wayside Home.” The thought of such shelter came many years ago, to the man who gave all his life to making paths plainer for sinning and suffering souls, and who in the “Isaac Hopper Home,” as often called the “Father Hopper Home,” solved the problem in a degree. Even here, however, admission was conditioned on a letter or word of endorsement, and there was no spot in all the great city in which a homeless and friendless woman, without such word, could find temporary refuge. It remained for Brooklyn to offer such a possibility, and the quiet home that in the early spring of 1880 opened its doors, asked but three questions:

“Do you need help?”

“Are you homeless?”

“If taken in, will you remain a month, keep the necessary rules of the house, and do your share of its work?”

These question are “the hinge on which the door swings, and when once a woman crosses its threshold she stands on her honor, and is trusted just as far as she will allow.”

Cramped for room, dependent upon voluntary contributions for furnishing, provisions, and all the running expenses of such an undertaking, the first year found them without debt, and with ninety-nine women sheltered and protected, sixty-two of whom found places, and, with but few exceptions, proved faithful and worthy of trust. During the second year two hundred and twenty-four were helped, cramped quarters forcing the managers to refuse many applications. Half of the income for that year was earned by the inmates, in laundry, sewing room, and days’ work outside. A larger house was taken, but the same principle of free admission continued. Many who left the Home voluntarily, and some even who had been expelled, returned, penitent and sorrowful, and were received again, and given another chance, the only bar to return being in the discovery that the influence of a woman in some cases did more harm than could be counteracted in the Home, in which case there is written across her name, “Not to be admitted again.”

A matron and two assistant matrons are employed, the matron having general charge of the house, keys, and work; the first assistant, of sewing room and laundry; and the second of the kitchen and all household supplies. But thirty women can be accommodated at any one time, and it is hoped that a building especially for the purpose may soon give the added facilities so imperatively demanded. The work holds little poetry, and the expression of some of its subjects is so debased and apparently hopeless, that one gentleman, accustomed to give freely, remarked: “I see nothing better to do than to tie a rope round their necks and pitch them into the river.”

The poor souls were themselves much of his mind, but a month or two gave a very different aspect to affairs, work and the certainty of sympathy bringing new life. Undisciplined and weak, in the power of appetite both inherited and acquired, they have fought battles whose terror the untempted can never know; fought and won, the roll now holding hundreds of names. Working against perpetual obstacle and disadvantage, the story of the five years is one of triumph for managers as well as managed. “We began,” said one of the workers, “holding in one hand the key to an empty house, for which the rent was paid for one month, and in the other hand all our worldly possessions—five dollars—and since that time we have bought our present home, and furnished it comfortably for our work. It accommodates thirty-five women, and three matrons, and we have paid on it $5,000, carrying a mortgage of $9,000. None of these things are the ultimate of our work. They are but means to an end, and that end the saving of the lives and souls of these women.”

Effort of as extended a nature is possible only for a body of earnest workers, but this mere hint of its nature and results may perhaps convince some who have doubted its possibility, and serve as the clue to companion methods in country towns. Faith in possibilities, both human and divine, has been the condition of success for what is already accomplished, and the village may test these no less than the city. Reports filled with every practical detail may be had by addressing a note to “The Wayside Home, 352 Bridge Street, Brooklyn, N. Y.,” and the writer stands ready, at any time, to answer questions as to methods, assuring all doubters that, for all patient workers, success is certain.

The finest pleasures of reading come unbidden. In the twilight alcove of a library, with a time-mellowed chair yielding luxuriously to your pressure, a June wind floating in at the windows, and in your hand some rambling old author, good humored and quaint, one would think the Spirit could scarce fail to be conjured. Yet often, after spending a morning hour restlessly there … I have strolled off with a book in my pocket to the woods; and, as I live, the mood has descended upon me under some chance tree, with a crooked root under my head, and I have lain there reading and sleeping by turns till the letters were blurred in the dimness of twilight.—From Prose Writings of N. P. Willis.

[570]

SUNDAY READINGS.

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

[Sunday, July 5.]

The Influence of Jesus.—(I note again, as a characteristic of the morality of sonship, the way in which it secures humility by aspiration, and not by depression.) How to secure humility is the hard problem of all systems of duty. He who does work, just in proportion to the faithfulness with which he does it, is always in danger of self-conceit. Very often men seem to have given up the problem in despair, and they lavish unstinted praise upon the vigorous, effective worker, without any qualifying blame of the arrogance with which he flaunts the duty that he does in the world’s face. “The only way to make him humble,” they would seem to say, “would be to make him idle. Let him stop doing duty and then, indeed, he might stop boasting. His arrogance is only the necessary price that the world and he pay for his faithfulness.” To such a problem the Christian morality brings its vast conception of the universe. Above each man it sets the infinite life. The identity of nature between that life and his, while it enables him to emulate that life, compels him, also, to compare himself with it. The more zealously he aspires to imitate it, the more clearly he must encounter the comparison. The higher he climbs the mountain, the more he learns how the high mountain is past his climbing. It is the oneness of the soul’s life with God’s life that at once makes us try to be like him, and brings forth our unlikeness to him. It is the source at once of aspiration and humility. The more aspiration, the more humility. Humility comes by aspiration. If, in all Christian history, it has been the souls which most looked up that were the humblest souls; if to-day the rescue of a soul from foolish pride must be not by a depreciation of present attainment, but by opening more and more the vastness of the future possibility; if the Christian man keeps his soul full of the sense of littleness, even in all his hardest work for Christ, not by denying his own stature, but by standing up at his whole height, and then looking up in love and awe and seeing God tower into infinitude above him—certainly all this stamps the morality which is wrought out within the idea of Jesus with this singular excellence, that it has solved the problem of faithfulness and pride, and made possible humility by aspiration.

And yet, once more, the morality of Jesus involves the only true secret of courage and of the freedom that comes of courage. More and more we come to see that courage is a positive thing. It is not simply the absence of fear. To be brave is not merely not to be afraid. Courage is that compactness and clear coherence of all a man’s faculties and powers which makes his manhood a single operative unit in the world. That is the reason why narrowness of thought and life often brings a kind of courage, and why, as men’s range of thought enlarges and their relations with their fellowmen increase, there often comes a strange timidity. The bigot is often very brave. He is held fast unto a unit, and possesses himself completely in his own selfishness. For such a bravery as that the man and the world pay very dear. But when the grasp that holds a man and his powers is not his self-consciousness, but his obedience to his Father, when loyalty to him surrounds and aggregates the man’s capacities, so that, held in his hand, the man feels his distinctiveness, his distinctive duty, his distinctive privilege, then you have reached the truth of which the bigot’s courage was the imitation. Then you have secured courage, not by the limitation, but by the enlargement of the life. Then the dependence upon God makes the independence of man in which are liberty and courage. The man’s own personality is found only in the household of his Father, and only in the finding of his personality does he come to absolute freedom and perfect fearlessness.—Phillips Brooks.

[Sunday, July 12.]

True Christianity.—Lord Jesus Christ, thou eternal and only Prince of Peace! Thou most blessed and truest rest of faithful souls! Thou hast said, Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and ye shall find rest to your souls. In the world ye shall have tribulation, but in me ye shall have peace.

Alas! how often have I sought for rest in this world, but have not found it! For my soul, being immortal, can not rest or be satisfied with anything but thee alone; O immortal God, thou and thou alone art the rest of our souls. The world and all that is in it is hastening to decay; they all wax old as doth a garment, and as a vesture shalt thou change them, and they shall be changed; but thou art the same, and thy years shall not fail. How then shall my soul find rest in such fleeting and changeable things?… O God, my soul can not be satisfied but in thee, the supreme good. My soul hungereth and thirsteth after thee, and can not rest till it possess thee.…

O thou rock of my salvation! in which my soul trusteth and is at rest.…

O Lord Jesus, how ardent is thy charity! how pure, how free from deceit! how perfect! how spotless! how great! how exalted! how profound! In a word, how sincere and hearty is thy love! Suffer, I beseech thee, my soul to rest in this thy love.… Here let my poor soul rest free from fear of danger or disquiet. In thee let all my senses rest, that I may hear thee sweetly speaking, O thou highest love! Let my eyes behold thee, O thou celestial beauty! Let my ears hear thee, thou most harmonious music! Let my mouth taste, thou incomparable sweetness! Let the refreshing odors of life breathe upon me from thee, thou most noble flower of paradise!… Let my heart rejoice in thee, my true joy! Let my will desire thee alone, thou only joy of my heart! Let my understanding know thee alone, O eternal wisdom! Lastly, let all my desires, all my affections rest in thee alone, O blessed Jesus, who art my love, my peace, and my joy!

Take out of my heart everything that is not thyself. Thou art my riches in poverty; thou art my honor in contempt; my praise and glory against reproaches; my strength in infirmity; and in a word, my life in death. And how, then, should I not rest in thee, who art my all in all? My righteousness against sin; my wisdom against folly; redemption from condemnation; sanctification from my uncleanness.…

Let me, I beseech thee, surrender my whole heart to thee, since thou hast given me all thine. Let me go out of myself, that I may enter into thee. Let me cleanse my heart and empty it of the world, that thou mayest fill it with thy celestial gifts, O Jesus, the rest of my heart, the Sabbath of my soul! Lead me into the rest of a blessed eternity, where there are pleasures at thy right hand for evermore. Amen.—Arndt, “A prayer for obtaining true rest and tranquility of soul.”

[Sunday, July 19.]

[Sunday, July 26.]

Sermon on Luke iv, 1-13.—The weapons of Jesus?—say we rather the weapon—for he has but one, it is the Word of God. Three times tempted, three times he repels the temptation by a simple quotation from the Scriptures, without explanation or comment. “It is written”—this one expression tells upon the tempter like a tremendous discharge upon an assaulting battalion. “It is written”—the devil withdraws for the first time. “It is written”—the devil withdraws for the second time. “It is written”—the devil gives up the contest. God’s word is the weapon which Satan most dreads—a weapon before which he has never been able to do aught but succumb. Most justly does Paul call it the “Sword of the Spirit;”[A] and John describes it, in the Revelation, as “a sharp, two-edged sword, proceeding out of the mouth of the Son of man.” With that “Sword of the Spirit” in our hands, our cause becomes that of the Holy Spirit himself, and we shall be as superior in strength to our adversary, as is the Spirit of God to the spirit of darkness. Without it, on the contrary, left to ourselves, we shall be as much below him as is man’s nature below that of angels. Adam fell, only because he allowed this sword to drop. Jesus triumphs, because no one can wrest it from his hand. But why is it that the Son of God, instead of meeting the enemy with some new sword brought from the heavens whence he came, took up only our own weapon, from that very earth where Adam had, with such cowardice, left it? This is for our example. From what that weapon accomplished in his hand, we must learn what it can do in ours. Let us, then, take it up in our turn; or, rather, let us receive it from him, resharpened as it were, by his victory, and we shall have nothing to fear. To all the adversary’s attacks let us oppose a simple “It is written,” and we shall render vain his every endeavor.… If after having heard him on the theater of temptation, scoffing at the word of God, we could (allow me the expression) follow him behind the scenes, and hear him confess to his accomplices that he is lost if he can not succeed in wresting from our hands this irresistible weapon! If we did but know all this, and if, like the valiant Eleazar, “we could keep hold of our sword till our hand clove unto it”—oh, then we should be invincible, yea, invincible!—Monod.

“WE SALUTE THEE, AND LIVE.”

BY MARY MATHEWS-SMITH.

[572]

A GROUP OF MUMMIES.

BY OTIS T. MASON.

Whenever the word mummy is mentioned almost everybody thinks of Egypt and the ancient embalmers, with their tedious processes and costly ceremonials. The term does include the Egyptian prepared bodies, but it does not exclude some found elsewhere. Indeed, in Washington, there will be seen in close proximity, in the Smithsonian building, an exceedingly dry company, made up of individuals from Alaska, Arizona, Mexico, Kentucky, Peru, and Egypt.

Whoever has marked the tender solicitude with which the things around us seem to beckon us in this way or in that will understand that even the disposal of the dead has been influenced by such suggestions. Passing through a dense forest one seems to hear the branches and undergrowth say: “Come this way, pass along here, we are opening to make way for you.” Well, it is so in every human art; natural objects supply the materials, the tools, and suggest the simplest forms. There can be no potters where there is no clay, no chipped arrow heads where there is no stone to flake, no wood carving in the arctic regions where grows no timber. Yet the good people in all these places have arts, they make excellent baskets in which they carry water and boil their meat, polished spearheads and axes of volcanic stone, and most delicate carvings in ivory or antler.

As to the disposal of the dead in different regions and ages, all we have space to say is that the voices of nature around each people have told them how to perform this sad rite. In the frozen regions, where the ground is never thawed, no graves are dug. By the seaside the primitive fisherman is launched upon the wide expanse in his own canoe. In rocky regions cairns and cists conceal the wasting form. On the soft prairie mounds cover the dead out of sight. In those arid regions where the rainfall does not affect the atmosphere to any extent the process of desiccation takes place more rapidly than chemical changes. The water, which forms the greater part of the human body, soon removes and leaves but a few pounds of bones, dried flesh and skin. This may be called natural mummification, the process of which is aided either by extreme cold, extreme aridity, or preservative elements in the soil.

In the National Museum there is the body of a little boy, lying on his back, his feet drawn up, and all sorts of curious relics hanging in the case with him. The body was discovered in one of the cliff ruins of the Cañon de Chelly, Arizona. The particular ruin referred to is on a benched recess, seventy-five feet above the cañon, and extends backward about thirty feet. The ancient Pueblo people, driven by some invading force, constructed their cliff houses along only a part of this bench. About fifty feet from the walls Mr. Thomas Kearn found a little oven-like cist composed of angular bowlders laid in clay. The rooflet consisted of sticks supporting stones and clay. At the bottom lay the little child, and the remains of other burials, together with grave deposits. Here, in this last resting place, the waters escaped so quickly and so quietly from the body that even the form of life was not disturbed nor any chemical changes awakened. So perfectly dried is this little fellow that even the coatings of the eye remain. This is natural embalmment by desiccation simply. In the Peabody Museum, at Cambridge, are dried bodies from Mexico, preserved in the same manner. Around them were their clothing and utensils, silent and patient watchers, waiting all these centuries to give in evidence as to how those dead people dressed, ate, drank, worked, and warred.

In the palmy days of our grandparents there was a desiccated body discovered in Mammoth Cave, Kentucky. This, also, has had the good fortune, after many peregrinations, to find its way into the Smithsonian. Now, Mammoth Cave is a damp place, but the earth accumulated on the floor is in places full of nitrous and other preservative salts. Indeed, the Kentucky cave subject may be called a natural pickle.

To Mr. William H. Dall we are indebted for bringing to light mummies from the frozen regions. At the time of their discovery by the Russians, the Aleuts of Unalashka had a process of mummification peculiar to themselves. Mr. Dall informs us that they eviscerated the bodies of those held in honor, removed the fatty matter, placed them for some time in running water, and then lashed them into as compact a bundle as possible. A line was placed around the neck and under the knees, to draw them up to the chin. If any part stuck out, the bones were broken so as to facilitate the consolidation. After this the body was thoroughly dried and packed in a wooden crate, wrapped round and round with seal, sea-otter, and other precious furs, enough to make a fashionable belle’s head swim. Over these were wrapped coarser skins, waterproof cloth of intestines, and fine grass mats. This crate was slung to upright poles, or hung, like a wall-pocket, to a peg driven into a crevice in some cave. In 1874 Captain E. Hennig, of the Alaska Commercial Company’s service, found in a cave on the island of Kagamil, near Unalashka, a number of these framed mummies, all but two of which the company presented to the Smithsonian Institution.

The Egypt of America for mummies is Peru. Scarcely a museum in the world is without its dried dogs, guinea pigs, parrots, and human beings wrapped in costly cloths, and the last mentioned wearing the greatest profusion of gold and silver jewelry. Along with these bodies are found corn, beans, peanuts; pottery, gourds, and silver vases; pillows, haversacks and masks; knives, war clubs and spearheads; needles, distaffs, spindles, work-baskets and musical cradles. Thousands and thousands of the most interesting things turn up, almost as expressive of ancient Peruvian life as was the library of Sennacherib, exhumed by Layard at Kouyunjik, of Assyrian life.

Beyond the care of the Peruvians and Bolivians in the clothing and encysting of the dead, it is almost certain that they left them to the atmosphere to manipulate. The work was done most effectually. Nothing can be dryer than a Peruvian mummy. It is perfectly useless to dust the cases containing them, and those who handle them are in a steady sneeze, as though invisible spirits, filled with indignation, held impalpable snuff-boxes to the nose. It is still more wonderful that insects have not done their destructive work upon these bodies. The wrappings doubtless were so securely made as to prevent their inroads, and must have contained some substance to keep them away.

In the National Museum, finally, are two Egyptian mummies. It is hard to tell how they got into such outlandish boxes and mountings. There they stand, nailed and screwed into narrow, white boxes, side by side, with mouths open, as if Pompeian convulsions had seized and embalmed them by instantaneous mummification just as the curtain was falling on a grand duet. Now, these two bodies were really embalmed (embalsamed); all the other mummies were simply dried up.

The Egyptians, Peruvians, and perhaps the Alaskans preserved the bodies as integral parts of the individual, that would be needed again. The others simply dried up, their depositors cherishing no belief in the resurrection of the body.

[573]

A TRIP TO MT. SHASTA.

Report of a lecture delivered in the National Museum of Washington, D. C., by Prof. J. S. Diller, of the U. S. Geological Survey.

The Great Basin Country is bounded to the westward by the Cascade Range in Oregon and the Sierra Nevada Mountains in eastern California. The axes of these two mountain ranges make an angle of over 140° with each other, and at their point of intersection in northern California rises Mt. Shasta, one of the most conspicuous and imposing topographical features of the Pacific coast, above which it rises 14,440 feet. Early in the days of western exploration its summit was declared to be inaccessible, but whether this assertion was made to inspire greater respect for the abode of the Indian gods, or to excuse a disinclination to physical exertion, must ever remain a matter of conjecture. Certain it is that the ascent, frequently made within the last few years by ladies is not a remarkable feat of mountaineering. Under the direction of Captain Dutton of the Geological Survey, a detailed exploration of the mountain has been accomplished.

The belt of territory bordering upon the Pacific embraces two parallel mountain chains, the Sierra Nevada and Cascade Range on the east, and the illy-defined Coast Range on the west. Between these lies the valley region of the Willamette and Sacramento rivers, whose headwaters are among that complex group of mountains through which the Klamath River, in a deep cañon, finds its way to the sea.

Of all the volcanic regions of the world, the one to which Mt. Shasta belongs is the largest. It extends from Lassen’s Peak, in California, north through Oregon to Mt. Rainier in Washington Territory, and eastward far into Idaho, covering an area larger than that of France and Great Britain combined. Within this wide expanse are extensive plains, whose broad surfaces indicate that the basaltic lava beneath at the time of its eruption possessed such a high degree of fluidity that it spread out far and wide like the waters of a lake. Upon the western border the more viscous lavas built up the Cascade Range, whose mammoth arch is surmounted by numerous mighty volcanoes, among which Mt. Shasta is one of the most prominent.

Seen from all sides Mt. Shasta presents a remarkably regular outline, and its beautiful conoidal form has excited the admiration of many observers. Its slopes are exceptional for the high angle and graceful curves of their inclination. The upper 3,000 feet of the mountain, where cliffs are most abundant, dips away toward all points of the compass at an average angle of 37°. Further down the mountain the slope gradually decreases in inclination to 20°, then to 15°, 10°, and finally the long, gentle slope about the base of the mountain deviates but 5° from a horizontal plane. In all directions from the summit of Mt. Shasta its flanks increase in length as they decrease in angle of inclination, presenting a curved mountain side concave upwards, and has the greatest curvature near the top. Mr. Gilbert, in his excellent monograph of the Henry Mountains, shows that such a curve is the natural result of erosion. In the case of some volcanic mountains, however, an important coöperative cause may be found in the fact that at each successive eruption the lava decreased in quantity and became more viscous. The grandest approach to Mt. Shasta is from the north, in the broad valley of the same name, where it is presented to full view, and the deepest impression of its colossal dimensions is experienced. It stands at the head of Shasta valley, above which it rises 11,000 feet, with a volume of over 224 cubic miles, and presents, in strange contrast with the sterility of the valley, the luxuriant vegetation of the forest belt. The timbered slopes lie between the altitudes 4,000 and 7,000 feet above the sea, and belong to the most magnificent forest regions of the world. Above the forest belt the mountain rises more than a mile into the heights of eternal snow, and its brilliant white slopes present an imposing contrast to the deep green of the pines beneath. Viewed from the southeast, Mt. Shasta appears to be surmounted by a single peak, but seen from the north, the upper portion is found to be double. The smaller of the two cones, broad topped and crater shaped, has been designated Shastina, to distinguish it from the other acute cone, which rises 2,000 feet higher and forms the summit of Shasta proper.

The influence of temperature upon precipitation, and the limits which it throws about arboreal vegetation, are here most forcibly illustrated. In Shasta valley, at an elevation of about 3,000 feet above the sea, where the average temperature is high as compared with that upon the mountain itself, the precipitation is always in the form of rain, but not sufficient in quantity, especially on account of its unequal distribution throughout the year, to support more than a scanty growth of stunted trees. In the autumn storm clouds gather about the summit, and showers become frequent, spreading over the land in copious rains. Before the spring eight ninths of all the annual rain has fallen and the country is brilliant with living green. As summer advances the refreshing showers disappear and the cloudless sky affords no protection from the burning sun; the bright green fades away and the earth gradually assumes that uninviting seared aspect which pervades all nature in the season of drought. Upon the lower slopes of the mountain, by its cooling influence upon the atmosphere, the rainfall is greatly increased, and the vegetation is luxuriant. The vegetation is almost wholly coniferous. Among nearly a score of species the sugar-pine is monarch, frequently attaining a diameter of twelve and a height of over two hundred feet. Farther up the mountain these gradually give way to the firs, whose tall, graceful forms are in perfect keeping with the majestic mountain behind them. Their black and yellow spotted trunks and branches, draped in long pendant moss, present a weird, almost dismal aspect, making a fit promenade for the mythical deities supposed by the aborigines to inhabit the mountains. To assume that in the timber belt the slopes of the mountain are everywhere covered with majestic trees, would certainly be wide of the truth, for within the forests are large treeless tracts, sometimes hundreds of acres in extent. From a distance these green, velvety acres appear to be very inviting pastures, and present the most desirable path of ascent. A closer examination, however, discovers to the observer that instead of grass these green fields are clothed in such a dense shrubbery of manzanita, ceanothus, and other bushy plants, as to be almost impassable. One attempt to cross a patch of chaparral, or “Devil’s acre,” as it is sometimes appropriately called in western vernacular, will convince the traveler that his best path lies in the forest.

As the timber gradually dwindles away from the foot of the mountain to almost nothing in Shasta valley, so also it diminishes in stature, from an altitude of 7,000 feet upwards to the snow region, where the precipitation is generally, if not always, in a solid form of snow in winter and sleet in summer.

Of the tree-like vegetation, one of the pines reaches farthest up the slopes. Its stem grows shorter and the top flattens until, at an elevation of about 9,000 feet, the branches are spread upon the ground, so that not unfrequently the pedestrian finds his best path upon the tree-tops. Beyond these, on the snowless slopes, are found only scattered blades of grass, and the welcome little hulsea, the edelweiss of our Alpine regions, with its bright flowers to alleviate the arctic desolation[574] of the place. The red and yellow lichens cling to the rocks and the tiny prolococcus flourishes in the snow, so that one is frequently surprised, upon looking back, to see his bloody footsteps.

In the Alps, between the forests and the snow, are often found extensive pastures where the herds which furnish milk for the celebrated Swiss cheese are grazed during the milder seasons of the year. In northern California similar pastures do not occur about the snow-capped summits, probably on account of the unequal distribution of the annual rainfall.

To those who are fond of novelty, the greatest interest of the upper portion of Mt. Shasta attaches to its glaciers. They are five in number, and all are found side by side upon its northern half, forming an almost continuous covering above 10,000 feet for that portion of the mountain point. Upon the northern and western slope of the mountain is the Whitney glacier, with its prominent terminal moraines. Next to the eastward is the Bulam glacier, with the large pile of debris at the lower end. Then comes the broad Hottums glacier and the Wintum. The Konwakitong, which is the smallest of the group, lies upon the southeast side of the mountain. Whitney glacier is more like those of the Alps than any other one of the group. Its snow-field lies upon the northwestern slope of the mountains, from whence the icy mass moves down a shallow depression between Shasta and Shastina. Mr. Ricksecker, who has made a careful topographical survey of the mountain, has measured the dimensions of all its glaciers. The limits of the Whitney glacier are well defined; its width varies from 1,000 to 2,000 feet, with a length of about two and one-fifth miles, reaching from the summit of the mountain down to an altitude of 9,500 feet above the sea. It is but little more than a decade since the first glaciers were discovered within the United States, and we should not be disappointed to learn that the largest of them, about the culminating point of the Cascade Range, would appear Liliputian beside the great glacier of the Bernese Oberland, and yet the former are as truly glaciers as the latter. In the upper portion of its course, passing over prominent irregularities in its bed, the Whitney glacier becomes deeply fractured, producing the extremely jagged surface, corresponding to the surfaces of the Alpine glaciers. Lower down the crevasses develop, and these, with the great fissure which separates it from the steep slopes of Shastina, attest the motion of the icy mass. They frequently open and become yawning chasms, reaching 100 feet into the clear, green ice beneath. Near its middle, upon the eastern margin, the Whitney glacier receives large contributions of sand, gravel and bowlders, from the vertical cliffs around which it turns to move in a more northerly direction. In this way a prominent lateral moraine is developed. From the very steep slopes of Shastina, upon the western side, the glacier receives additions in the form of avalanches. Here the snow clings to its rocky bed until the strain resulting from accumulation is great enough to break it from its moorings and precipitate it upon the glacier below. The most striking feature of the Whitney glacier, and that which is of greatest interest from a geological point of view, is its terminal moraine, which appears to be fully a mile in length. Its apparent length is much greater than the real, from the fact that the glacial ice extends far down beneath the covering of detritus. It is so huge a pile of light colored debris, just above the timber line, that it is plainly visible from afar off.

In comparing the morainal material about Mt. Shasta with that of Alpine glaciers, a feature that is particularly noticeable is the smallness of the bowlders. Upon Alpine glaciers they frequently have a diameter greater than ten feet, but about the Whitney and other glaciers of Mt. Shasta they are rarely as much as three feet in diameter. This is readily explained by the fact that the glaciers of Mt. Shasta do not move in deep valleys bounded by long, deep slopes, with many high cliffs which afford an opportunity for the formation of large bowlders. Although the Whitney glacier has its boundaries more clearly defined than any of the other glaciers about Mt. Shasta by the depression in which it moves, the valley is very shallow, and one looks in vain along its slopes for traces of polished rocks like those so magnificently displayed on the way from Meiningen to Grimsel, in the valley of the Aar. Below the terminal moraine the milky water of Whitney creek wends its way down the northern slope, plunges over a fall hundreds of feet high, into a deep cañon, and near the base of the mountain is swallowed up by the thirsty air and earth. The presence of marginal crevasses, lateral and terminal moraines, and the characteristic milky stream which issues from the lower end, are proofs that the Whitney glacier still moves, but the rate of motion has not yet been determined. The row of stakes planted last July were covered with snow before the party could reach them again in the latter part of October.

Upon the northwestern slope of the mountain, besides the Whitney glacier, there is the Bulam, differing chiefly in that it is contained in a broader, less definite valley, and forming an intermediate step toward the Hottum glacier, which is one of the most important and remarkable of the group. Unlike ordinary glaciers, it has no valley in which it is confined, but lies upon the convex surface of the mountain. Its upper surface, instead of being concave anywhere, is convex throughout from side to side, and its width (123 miles) is almost as great as its length (162 miles). At several places the surface of the glacier is made very rough by the inequalities of its bed. This is especially true of its southern portion, where prominent cliffs form the only medial moraine discovered upon Mt. Shasta. Throughout the greater part of its expanse the glacier is deeply crevassed, exposing the green ice occasionally to the depth of a hundred feet. The thickness of this glacier has been greatly overestimated. In reality, instead of being 1,800 to 2,500 feet thick, it does not appear where greatest to be more than a few hundred, for at a number of places it is so thin that its bed is exposed. Its terminal moraine is a huge pile, nearly half a mile in width, measured in the direction of glacial motion.

Next south of the Hottum glacier is the Wintum, which attains a length of over two miles, and ends with an abrupt front of ice in a cañon. Upon the southeastern slope of Mt. Shasta, at the head of a large cañon, is the Konwakitong glacier. Notwithstanding its diminutive size, its crevasses and the muddy stream it initiates indicate clearly that the ice mass continues to move. The amount of moraine material upon its borders is small, and yet, of all the glaciers about Mt. Shasta, it is the only one which has left a prominent record of important changes. The country adjacent to the west side of the Konwakitong cañon has been distinctly glaciated so as to leave no doubt that the Konwakitong glacier was once very much larger than it is at the present time. The rocks on which it moved have been deeply striated, and so abraded as to produce the smooth, rounded surfaces so common in glaciated regions. At the time of its greatest extension the glacier was 5.8 miles in length and occupied an area of at least seven square miles, being over twenty times its present size. Its limit is marked at several places by a prominent terminal moraine. The thickness of the glacier where greatest was not more than 200 feet, for several hills within the glaciated area were not covered. The striated surfaces and moraines do not extend up the slopes of those hills more than 200 feet above their bases. The thinness of the glacier is completely in harmony with the limited extent of its erosion, although the rocks are distinctly planed off, so that the low knobs and edges have regularly curved outlines. It is evident that a great thickness of rock has been removed by the ice, and that the period of ice erosion has been comparatively brief. During the lapse of time, however, there have been important climatic oscillations, embracing epochs of glacial advance and recession. None of the glaciers about Mt. Shasta, excepting the Wintum, terminate in cañons, but all of them give rise to muddy streams which flow in cañons to the mountain’s base. The cañons are purely the[575] product of aqueous erosion, and contain numerous waterfalls, whence the streams in descending leap over the ends of old lava flows 50 to 300 feet in height.

In strong contrast with the arctic condition of Mt. Shasta to-day, are the circumstances attending its upbuilding, when it was an active volcano belching forth streams of fiery lava that flowed down the slopes now occupied by ice. It is the battlefield of the elements within the earth against those above it. In its early days the forces beneath were victorious, and built up the mountains in the face of wind and weather, but gradually the volcanic energy died away and the low temperature called into play those destructive agents which are now reversing the process and gradually reducing the mountain toward a general level. A microscopical examination of the rocks of Mt. Shasta reveals the fact that it is composed chiefly, if not wholly, of three kinds of lava. Several small areas of metamorphic rocks occur within its borders, but there is no evidence to show that they form any considerable portion of the mountain.

The range in mineralogical composition of the lavas is not extensive. There are only four minerals which deserved to be ranked as essential and characteristic constituents: they are plagioclase, feldspar, pyroxene, generally in the form of hypersthene hornblende, and olivine. The kind of lava which has by far the widest distribution upon the slopes of Mt. Shasta is composed essentially of plagioclase, feldspar and hypersthene, with some angite, and belongs to the variety of volcanic rocks which, on account of composition, and the place where first discovered, has been designated hypersthene andesite. Lava of this type has been shown by Messrs. Cross and Giddings of the Geological Survey to be widely distributed beyond the Mississippi. Upon the western slope of the mountain, especially in the vicinity of the prominent volcanic cone, the form of which suggests its name sugar loaf, the lava contains prominent crystals of hornblende instead of so much hypersthene and angite, and closely resembles the celebrated hornblende andesite lava from among the extinct volcanoes of central France. The third variety of lava which enters into the structure of Mt. Shasta is familiar to every one as basalt. It occurs in relatively small quantities, and has been extruded low down upon the slopes of the mountain. From the fact that there are three kinds of lava in the structure of Mt. Shasta, it must not be concluded that they all issued from the same volcanic vent, nor that they were effused from three separate and distinct openings. In reality, contributions to the upbuilding of Mt. Shasta have been made by over twenty volcanic orifices, of which two have been principal and far more prolific than all the parasitic events combined. This enumeration does not include those large fissures in the side of the cone, which are evidently attributable to the hydrostatic pressure of the molten mass within. The small number of parasitic cones on the slopes of Mt. Shasta is somewhat remarkable, especially when we compare it with the largest volcano in Europe. Although it is much higher than Etna, its base is less expansive, and its size about half that of the mighty monarch of the Mediterranean. Upon the irregular slopes of Etna there are 200 prominent subsidiary cones, beside over 400 of smaller size. On the contrary, Mt. Shasta has but a score of such accessories, and the remarkable regularity of its acute form forcibly expresses the highly concentrated type of volcanic energy which it represents.

From none of the vents upon its slopes have all three kinds of lava escaped, but from the summits of Shasta and Shastina, which are the products of the two largest and most prolific vents, both hornblende and hypersthene andesite have been effused. All the other orifices were subordinate, and each furnished but one kind of lava; from seven of them came hypersthene andesite; eight, hornblende andesite; and the remaining five, basalt. The relative age of the cones which mark the position of the volcanic vents is indicated by the amount of degradation which each has suffered. Judged by this criterion, those of hornblende andesite are the oldest and those of basalt the youngest. The latter are for the most part made of lapilli, and are not crater-shaped as is usually the case in other portions of the Cascade Range, but are elliptical in form, with dome-shaped summits. The presence of considerable piles of ejectments about the subsidiary vents indicates that the eruptions from these orifices were often of a violent character. On the other hand there are some without a trace of lapilli, or anything else to indicate an interruption in the quiet flow of lava welling out of the depths.

Upon the eastern slope of the mountain the cañon, excavated by Mud creek, brings to light the oldest Shasta lavas now exposed, and they are seen under such circumstances that their succession can be readily understood. The oldest lava known is hornblende andesite, which is now in an advanced state of disintegration, and it seems probable that in the early stages of its development a large proportion of the lavas ejected from Mt. Shasta were of the same mineralogical constitution. These were succeeded by extensive effusions of hypersthene andesite. Later in its history, several small streams of hornblende andesite again burst forth from the northeastern side of the cone, but the final effort of the volcanic energy was spent in the ejection of hypersthene andesite. The conditions which determine the oscillation in mineralogical composition of the lavas are as yet conjectural, but when discovered, and their influence demonstrated, an important step forward will have been made in determining the relations of many volcanic rocks.

A striking feature in the structure of Mt. Shasta is the paucity of volcanic ashes, lapilli, and other ejected matter. Only one important deposit of the kind has been discovered. It clings about the summit of the mountain, and is evidently the product of its last eruption. The summit of Shastina is so regular in outline, and the shape of its crater so well preserved, that many have supposed it to be composed chiefly of scoria and ashes; but this is not the case, for its slopes are of angular fragments of compact lava.

Mt. Shasta is almost a pure lava cone, and its remarkably regular form is a matter of wonder. That it is so regular is a sequence of several favorable circumstances. Although a score of parasitic cones spring from the side of the mountain, and have contributed to its upbuilding, yet their additions have been so small compared with the vast effusions from the summit craters Shasta and Shastina, as not to greatly modify the outline of the mountain. More important circumstances are to be found in the non-explosive character of the eruptions and the successive changes in the physical properties of the erupted lava, as the development of the mountain progressed.

It is well known that among the volcanoes of the Hawaiian Islands the eruptions are quiet and effusive. The fiery streams of liquid lava course down the gentle slopes for many miles.

Although the mountain is 14,000 feet high, its lavas have such a high degree of liquidity, and retain their mobility so long after eruption, that the base of the mountain spread by them has a diameter of about seventy miles, and an average slope of 5° 1,800 feet below its summit. Mauna Loa is nearly twenty miles in diameter. On the contrary, at a corresponding position its greatest diameter is less than two miles, a very remarkable difference, which is due chiefly to the unequal fluency of the two lavas. The very oldest lavas of Mt. Shasta lie buried within its mass, and we know nothing of their physical properties, but from an examination of the oldest ones now visible, it is evident that at the time of their eruption they possessed a higher degree of fluidity, and were more voluminous than those of later date. The long, gentle slopes about the base of the mountain are formed by comparatively old lavas. Ascending the mountain, one goes up as if upon a giant staircase, with long, inclined steps rising abruptly over the ends of successive shorter and newer lava flows.

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It is evident in comparing the older and newer lava flows of Mt. Shasta that there has been a more or less regular decrease in the quantity of lava extruded during successive eruptions, and this is exactly what we should expect when we consider that as the pipe is lengthened by successive effusions, the hydrostatic pressure of the columns of lava within is gradually augmented. The increased compress of the lava flows toward the summit of the mountain indicates that the lava of successive extrusions became more and more viscous until at last the eruptions became explosive, and gave rise to the ejectments now clinging upon the upper slopes of the mountain to evidence the character of the final outburst.

It is not only possible, but very probable that the increased viscosity of lava toward the closing scenes of the volcano is correllated to the diminution of temperature. Since the beginning of the historic period there have been no eruptions from Mt. Shasta, but the freshness of its lavas indicate that not many centuries ago, with other volcanoes of the Cascade Range, it was in a state of vigorous activity, and groups of hot springs and fumeroles about the summit still attest the presence of smouldering volcanic energy, which may perhaps some day break through its confining walls.

The upbuilding of Mt. Shasta is but a matter of yesterday, as compared with the lapse of ages, since the birth of some of its neighbors. The complex group of mountains to the westward, embracing the Scott, Trinity, Salmon and Siskiyou, are composed in large part, at least, of ancient crystalline rocks of both aqueous and igneous origin; through these the rivers have cut deep cañons, the Klamath, on its way to the Sacramento southward, from the very base of Mt. Shasta to its broad valley stretching from the Sierra Nevada to the Coast Range. The cañon of the Sacramento was cut down to nearly its present level, and the mountains sculptured into existing forms long before the eruptions of Mt. Shasta had ceased, for a fiery deluge escaping from the southern slope of Mt. Shasta entered the Sacramento cañon, and as a lava stream 200 feet deep followed its course for over fifty miles.

Towering more than a mile above its neighbors, perhaps the youngest of the group, Mt. Shasta is the end of a long series of volcanoes in the Cascade Range, stretching northwest to Mt. Tacoma. This range, composed chiefly of volcanic material, is cut across by the cañons of the Columbia and the Klamath rivers, in the former of which, beneath a thickness of 3,500 feet of lava, are found strata containing Tertiary fossils. At the southern base of Mt. Shasta, in the cañon of the McLoud River, similar beds of volcanic debris are found, but without fossils, nevertheless it is evident that the main mass of the Cascade Range and its volcanoes originated in recent geologic times, and from the fact that solfataras, fumeroles, and hot springs are still abundant upon their slopes, they can not be reckoned among those which are wholly extinct.

A frontiersman in Washington Territory tells of an outburst of Mt. St. Helens in the winter of 1841-2.

Upon somewhat more trustworthy authority it is said that to the southward of Mt. Shasta, about forty miles, a small cone which may be considered parasitic to Lassens Peak, has been in eruption as late as January, 1850, ejecting considerable ashes and cinders, and pouring forth a mass of lava, which gradually spread, attaining a circumference of over four miles, and presenting an abrupt embankment-like termination upon all sides eighty to ninety feet in height. Trees, blackened by the fiery stream, are still standing to furnish incontestable evidence of its recency.

The country is full of rumors of subterranean rumblings, and the people are prone to attribute them to the dying throes of volcanic energy.

One of the most striking features of the region is the strongly contrasted types of volcanic action in Mt. Shasta. Both have approximately the same area. In the valley there have been many scores of volcanic vents, among which the energy has been so widely diffused that none of them have furnished lava sufficient to form a hill more than a few hundred feet in height.

On the contrary, the mountain represents a small number of vents, and the volcanic was nearly all concentrated in one place, so that the extrusions were all piled up, one upon another, and resulted in the upbuilding of one majestic elevation.

Thus it has been from a small beginning, probably in early Tertiary times, that by successive boilings over, so to speak, additions have been made to the mountain until it attained a height beyond its present altitude. The constructive agents reached their limit, dissipated their energy, and gave way to destructive ones, which are gradually undoing the work.

Mt. Shasta must ever be one of the most popular mountains among tourists of the West. It is easily accessible from a main line of travel which passes by its base, at Berryvale, where comfortable quarters and necessary outfit for the ascent can be obtained.

The streams are filled with trout, and the forest with game, so that the region affords many attractions for the sportsman.

Several hours’ travel by a good trail brings the party to Camp Ross, at the timber line, from which the ascent can easily be made in a day without danger.

REASSUREMENT.

BY ADA IDDINGS GALE.

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WILL IT PAY?

BY CHARLES BARNARD.

There are some people who always ask this question. You may suggest anything, a book to read, a science to be studied, or some new work to be done, and, though they may not be so rude as to say so, they will wonder how it will pay. “Better not go into farming, my boy. It doesn’t pay.” “Better not do this or do that. It won’t pay you.” After a little more of this sort of thing you wonder if it pays to be born, or to live, or to do anything whatever. Now, what do they mean by this question? By far the larger part of those who ask it mean that the work, whatever it may be, does not pay a handsome return in money. A few mean something quite different. They know all about it, they have seen the world, and it is all a hollow show, and their favorite dolls are full of sawdust. These people are dead, but they have forgotten it.

Let us see about this. If there is any one business in the world about which the people in it are sure it does not pay, it is farming. “It does not pay.” So many people have said this that people who are not farmers have really come to think it must be so. Is it true? Here is an ear of field corn with twelve rows of grains, and twenty grains to a row. Fair average corn, with 240 grains to the ear. We can take off one grain and plant it in the ground, and within six months have two ears of the same corn, or 480 grains from one grain. How big a profit is that? One grain increases to 480 grains. Is there any manufacturing business, art or profession that pays such an enormous return? In spite of this they say it does not pay. Then there must be something the matter with the business. Nature has provided that the increase of plants shall be very great. One seed may increase a hundred fold, or five hundred fold, or a thousand fold. Clearly the work of raising plants with such advantages in its favor ought to pay, and if it does not, it is equally clear that something is wrong, some one to blame.

The city housekeeper finds at her store on the avenue a head of lettuce. Rather wilted and damaged by rough handling. Six cents. You can plant 43,560 heads of lettuce on one acre of ground. At six cents a head that is $2,613.60 taken out of one acre of land inside of eight weeks. And yet this person gravely tells us lettuce raising does not pay. What can the matter be, and where has all this money gone? A city like New York will calmly eat 40,000 heads of lettuce in a day or two, and pay out over $2,000 for it, and be ready to eat and pay as much more the next week. The money is certainly paid to somebody, and if the farmer still insists it does not pay to raise the lettuce, there must be a reason for it.

Ask the groceryman. He replies that he must live and must have a good slice out of the money to pay him for buying the lettuce down town and bringing it up to his store. It isn’t so evident that he must live as he fancies, because there was a time when there were no storekeepers and the world got along beautifully without them. However, he is convenient, and we will allow him his slice out of the profits. The teamster, the wholesale dealer, the freight handler, the railroad people all say that they too must live, and to please them we will admit that is so, though there is not much to prove it. They must share in the $2,000 paid for the acre of lettuce. Lastly, the farmer gets what the others decide he may have after they have had what they decide is their share. If we ask each one of this row of men, it is quite possible each one will say it does not pay, but, somehow, none except the farmer says anything about it. The last man, the actual producer of the lettuce, is the only one to complain. His business is the only one concerned that people say does not pay.

There was once a young man who started out bravely in life, resolved to reform the world. After trying for some time he gave it up and was ever after entirely contented if he paid his board regularly every week. It is useless to think we can reform this matter all in a day. The day will come when these things will be changed and equity and justice will take the place of the utter selfishness that now marks competition in business. Our best plan is to see what we can do to become producers ourselves. We want the lettuce ourselves. We must pay the retail price for it, and if at this price there is a big profit in raising it, we would like the entire profit placed in our hands. The people in these United States are divided into two great classes—the producers and the consumers—those who raise things to eat, and those who are in other trades and eat without producing. The producers are the farmers and fishermen. The consumers make all the rest of the people. The producers also eat, but their food costs them very much less than the food used by the non-producers. Of course we can see there must be non-producers or the trades and arts would perish, and the nation would become a mere agricultural community, content with sleeping and eating. At the same time, we must observe that a very large proportion of those who produce nothing live in small towns and villages and own land. We see everywhere in our smaller cities and towns hundreds of homes having gardens about the house. A little discouraged grass, a dyspeptic tree or two, a forlorn grape vine straggling over the fence, plenty of dusty gravel, and a mortgage on the house and lot. Within the house bitter complaints against the high price of food, much fretfulness and weariness at the scant, monotonous bill of fare. Boys and girls growing up with white hands and narrow chests (to say nothing of stomachs that they should be ashamed to own) and the storekeeper saving money on the next corner.

This is the reason it does not pay. We want to have white hands and be genteel and all that. We want to be consumers, and we unwittingly combine to get all we can out of the selling and handling of food and leave the producer as little as we think he can be forced to take. We must get rid of this imported nonsense about work. (It all came from Europe, and is wholly un-American.) We must make the land give us more food. Our boys and girls must go out of doors, must learn to be producers. They should be shown that it is disgraceful to live in a mortgaged house, that it is disgraceful to stand on any part of God’s ground and complain that food is scarce or high when that food might come out of the very ground under our ungrateful feet. The Chinese, the Japanese, the Dutch, the French, the Swiss cultivate every rod of ground they own. No barren yards about their houses, taxed and yet paying no return. Why, in England even the strips of waste land along the railway tracks are cultivated, and the trains move between rows of cabbages half a hundred miles long.

This is the way for thousands of families to make it pay. Produce your own food and sell it to yourselves. A head of lettuce grown on your own ground and eaten on your own table saves the retail price of a head of lettuce, and if there is a profit on it for all the people who touch it, clearly you have the entire profit for yourself. On reading this about five hundred people will calmly remark that this is not so. They have tried it and it cost more to raise their own vegetables than it did to buy them at the stores. The wages of the gardener come to more than all the things were worth. So much the worse for the gardener. You should be your own gardener. Where are your boys and girls? At the base ball grounds, or the rink,[578] or at the foolish piano—doing nothing—earning nothing and trying to be genteel? Garden work is hard on the back and hurts the hands. Yes, because your hands are weak and your back is not strong, and of these things you should be ashamed.

The price of land in this country is steadily rising. All the best farm land is being taken up. The cost of food is advancing. It will never again be as cheap as it has been in the past. The time has come when we must economize. We can not longer afford to carry those neglected garden plots and waste spaces about our houses. They must produce food for the people who own them. We must be our own producers. We must study plants and animals. These represent food and wealth, and it is simply an untruth to say it will not pay to raise them. If your garden costs more than the retail price of food in your neighborhood the fault is your own. There is something the matter with your soil or your seeds, or your method of culture. Think of the profit of raising lettuce at $2,000 an acre, and yet that is the return that an acre will produce if paid for at the retail price. Moreover, the lettuce would be removed from the ground in ample time for another crop, likewise bringing a profit. Of course, if your land is worth five dollars a foot, the interest on one foot would be more than the value of the single lettuce plant you could raise upon it. In such a case you had better sell out and buy cheaper land. For the majority of homes where there is a garden the land is cheap enough to produce more or less of the food needed in the house, and there is no reason whatever why it may not be raised at a handsome profit.

The Chautauqua University recognizes the importance of this matter. Its aim is to help, to guide, and to instruct, and it is now, through the liberality of its friends, able to help, guide and instruct all who wish to learn something of the art of producing food and saving money. It sees hundreds of boys and girls totally ignorant of these common things. It sees young people wondering what they shall do, perplexed and worried over this question of earning a living, and discouraged at the high cost of living, when a part of their living is going to waste beneath their feet. The Chautauqua Town and Country Club was formed to help those who wish to help themselves. It aims to show by simple lessons how to raise plants of all kinds, how to care for animals, how to take care of your garden so that it will be a source of pleasure and profit. Half a thousand people have already joined the club and are now at work in good earnest. Should you wish to know more about it, write to Miss K. F. Kimball, Plainfield, N. J.

All this is meant for you.

What are you going to do about it?

GEOGRAPHY OF THE HEAVENS FOR JULY.

BY PROF. M. B. GOFF,
Western University of Pennsylvania.

THE SUN,

Of which so much has been said in these pages, continues to be discussed with increasing interest by astronomers of both hemispheres, who every day supply their quota of new ideas as the result of their investigations. In The Chautauquan for March, 1884, the statement was made that “it has already been demonstrated that the colored prominences may be examined at any time when the sun can be seen; and it is believed that Mr. Huggins has accomplished the difficult feat of photographing the corona, so that it, too, may be scrutinized at leisure.” In the April number of the Nineteenth Century, we find a very interesting account by Mr. Huggins himself, of his operations in this line. As yet the experiments have not been in all respects satisfactory; but so much has been done as to leave no doubt of the final result. As Mr. H. tells us, the great obstacle to overcome is the immense curtain of air, which “hangs” between us and the sun, and absorbs some forty per cent. of the sun’s light (and heat). This absorption renders our atmosphere as light at least as the sun’s corona, and makes it as difficult of observation as a lesser light placed behind a greater. The same atmosphere being as bright, or brighter, than the stars, prevents our seeing the latter in daylight. During an eclipse of the sun, the shadow of the moon affords us a long, funnel shaped tube through this great air curtain (which may be forty, or one hundred, or more miles in thickness) and we are enabled through it to see the sun’s corona. But “on an average, once in two years this curtain of light is lifted for from three to six minutes”—a very contracted period in which to obtain a knowledge of a phenomenon that we know is constantly changing. If we had a Joshua, who could command sun, moon and earth to stand still for the space of a few hours even, we might discover what we so much wish to know, what is this corona. Or, if we could go beyond this atmosphere of ours—place it between us and the earth, we might do without a Joshua. But we can not get outside. Then the next best thing is to get as nearly outside as possible. Dr. Copeland tried this by climbing an elevation of 12,400 feet. Prof. Langley ascended Mt. Etna, and on Mt. Whitney ascended to the height of 15,000 feet; but at these heights the curtain was still too heavy, and no view of the corona was obtained; or, as Prof. Langley expressed it, he “met with entire non-success.” From reports in regard to observations made in Egypt of the total eclipse of 1882, Mr. Huggins conceived the idea of making a photographic plate so sensitive that it would distinguish differences imperceptible to the eye, and on this plate take a picture of the corona, and then examine it as one would the “photo” of a friend, and mark its peculiarities. He made his first experiment in 1882, and as a result “there seemed to be good ground to hope that the corona had really been obtained upon the plates.” In 1883, a second attempt, under more favorable circumstances was made, and “images of the sun exquisitely defined, and free from all sensible trace of instrumental imperfection were obtained.” On the 6th of May of the same year (1883) a total eclipse of the sun occurred at Caroline Islands, and was there photographed by Messrs. Lawrence and Woods, photographers of the Royal Society; and on a comparison of these photographs of the sun’s corona during an eclipse with his own taken both before and after the time of the eclipse (which was not visible to Mr. H.), he had the satisfaction of seeing so strong a resemblance as to convince him that he had photographed the corona without an eclipse. Although having no doubt of the success of his experiment, yet, on account of the unfavorable conditions of the climate, it was determined to try a higher elevation; and the Riffel, near Zarmatt, Switzerland, was selected as a suitable place to make further trials. Mr. Ray Wood was selected as artist, and reached Riffel in July, 1884. But unfortunately, the “veil of finely divided matter of some sort,” “of which we have heard so much in the accounts from all parts of the earth of gorgeous sunsets and after-glows” seriously interfered with the work; nevertheless, a number of plates were obtained on which the corona showed itself with more or less distinctness. Not satisfied with these results, Mr. Woods was deputed to go to the Cape of Good Hope, where, under the[579] direction of Dr. Gill, he is to make, or is, perhaps, now making daily photographic representations of the corona, and laboring fully to realize the anticipations of the esteemed Mr. Huggins.

Meantime our sun makes his accustomed rounds, bringing with him the usual accompaniments, hot weather and the “dog days.” He will on the 1st rise at 4:34 a. m. and set at 7:33 p. m.; on the 16th, rise at 4:43 a. m., set at 7:28 p. m.; and on the 30th, rise at 4:56 a. m., and set at 7:17 p. m. During the month the length of the day will decrease from 15 h. 1 m. on the 1st to 14 h. 21 m. on the 30th. The declination will in the same time decrease four degrees and forty-three minutes.

THE MOON

Enters upon its last quarter on the 5th, at 7:18 a. m.; new moon occurs on the 12th, at 12:07 a. m.; first quarter on the 18th, at 7:11 p. m.; full moon on the 26th, at 9:14 p. m. In perigee, or nearest the earth, on the 11th, at 8:24 p. m.; in apogee, or farthest from the earth, on 25th, at 4:18 a. m. Reaches its greatest elevation above the horizon, 66° 55′, on the 11th; least elevation, 30° 7′, on the 23d. On the 1st, rises at 10:00 p. m.; on the 16th, sets at 10:26 p. m.; on the 30th, rises 9:05 p. m.

MERCURY

On the 13th, at 6:57 a. m., is 5° 39′ north of the moon; on the 17th, at 9:00 a. m., 11′ south of Venus; and on the 26th, at 2:00 a. m., 11′ south of Alpha in the constellation Leo, a very interesting conjunction, but not visible to the naked eye. Mercury has a direct motion during the month of 51° 51′; and his diameter increases from 5″ to 6.8″. On the 1st, he rises at 4:56 a. m., and sets at 7:56 p. m.; on the 16th, rises at 6:23 a. m., and sets at 8:31 p. m.; on the 30th, rises at 7:16 a. m., and sets at 8:22 p. m.

VENUS

Makes but little show this month, being too near the “Source of Light.” She will be evening star throughout the month, growing brighter as the days pass by; her diameter increasing from 10.4″ on the 1st to 11.2″ on the 30th. She has a direct motion of 38° 8′ 45″. On the 1st, rises at 5:50 a. m., sets at 8:34 p. m.; on the 16th, rises at 6:25 a. m., sets at 8:33 p. m.; and on the 30th, rises at 6:57 a. m., sets at 8:23 p. m. On the 13th, at 10:21 p. m., 5° 22′ north of the moon; on 17th, at 9:00 a. m., 11′ north of Mercury.

MARS

Will be a morning star during this month. On the 1st rising at 2:30 a. m., and setting at 5:08 p. m.; on the 16th, rising at 2:11 a. m., setting at 5:01 p. m.; and on the 30th, rising at 1:54 a. m., setting at 4:50 p. m. His diameter increases one tenth of a second of arc, and he makes a direct motion of 22° 56′. On the 9th, at 3:44 p. m., he is 5° 1′ north of the moon.

JUPITER.

Et tu, Jupiter, art on the wane. Each day he sets more nearly with the sun, and his diameter grows smaller, though monarch still of all the planets. He rises on the 1st, 16th and 30th, at 9:00, 8:14, and 7:33 a. m., respectively, and sets on the corresponding days at 10:19, 9:28, and 8:39 p. m. He makes a direct motion of 5° 25′ 42″. On the 15th, at 2:02 a. m., is 3° 7′ north of the moon.

SATURN.

Those who have not improved the past few months to obtain a view of the beauties of this planet can not blame the writer. Their attention has been called to the fact that his rings stand more widely open now than they will again for fifteen years. But they need not despair; for in the delightful coolness of a summer morning they may still improve their opportunities; for Saturn rises the latter part of this month nearly with the dawn, and those who care to leave their “downy couch” can catch him before the rising of the sun. 3:56, 3:05, and 2:18 a. m., on the 1st, 16th and 30th will find him “at home;” and in August an earlier hour will suit as well. During the month his diameter increases two tenths of a second. On the 10th, at 5:48 p. m., he may be found 4° 7′ north of the moon; and on the 20th, one minute south of the star Eta in the constellation Gemini.

URANUS.

This planet, on the 1st, rises at 11:14 a. m., and sets at 11:20 p. m.; on the 16th, rises at 10:17 a. m., sets at 10:23 p. m.; on the 30th, rises at 9:25 a. m., sets at 9:29 p. m. No change in diameter, which remains at 3.6″. On the 16th, at 6:37 p. m., 34′ north of the moon.

NEPTUNE.

This slow motioned body, of which we know so little, and which not more than one person out of 10,000 ever saw, makes a direct motion during the month of 42′ 55″; its diameter is 2.6″; and on the 8th, at 6:59 a. m., its position is 2° 33′ directly north of the moon. It may be interesting to know that it will be a morning star which “will not light the traveler on his way,” during the entire month. Its times of rising are 1:52 a. m. on the 1st; 12:57 a. m. on the 16th, and at midnight on the 30th.

HOW AIR HAS BEEN LIQUEFIED.

BY J. JAMIN,
Of the French Academy.

In the interval between 1602 and 1626 four philosophers were born who seem to have been divinely appointed to teach men the mysteries of air. These were a German, Otto von Guericke (1602); two Frenchmen, Mariotte and Pascal (1620, 1623), and finally an Englishman, Boyle (1626). Pascal conceived the idea that air being material must have weight like other materials, and consequently that the earth must be pressed upon by its atmospheric envelope, and he proved this by the celebrated experiment at Puy de Dôme.

Soon after, Otto von Guericke, having invented the air pump, succeeded in exhausting the air from a vessel and confirmed Pascal’s idea that air was really heavy, while Mariotte and Boyle at the same time, each in his own country, and by almost identical experiments, proved that air is elastic, that its volume decreases by pressure, and generally in proportion to the weight to which it is subjected. Mariotte modestly called this discovery a rule of nature. We call it a physical law, and very suitably name it in France “Mariotte’s Law,” and in England “Boyle’s Law.”

It seemed necessary for science to collect her thoughts after this great achievement. She seemed to think there was nothing more to discover. Boyle and Mariotte would have been very much astonished if some one had told them that this air, whose properties they had been demonstrating, could be reduced to a liquid like water, and even to a solid like snow. Nearly two centuries passed before the world was prepared for this new discovery. We ourselves were ignorant of it until the month of April, 1883, when the Academy of Sciences received from Cracow these two dispatches:

Thus air has been reduced to a volume a thousand or fifteen[580] hundred times less than under ordinary conditions. It ceased to be a gas and took the appearance of water. This astonishing result is only the last in a long list of experiments which for a long time were fruitless; it is the finishing touch to a building begun long ago, and on which many workmen have labored. What has been the work of each of them? It is a long story.

Van Marum, a philosopher and chemist of Harlem, is celebrated as the constructor of an electric machine, the largest known, but he is more justly celebrated for having been the first to liquefy a gas. Wishing to know if ammonia would obey Mariotte’s law, he compressed it. Under a pressure of six atmospheres it changed quickly to a transparent liquid. Van Marum did not foresee the consequences of his experiments, and is honored only as being the first successful performer of the experiment. But Lavoisier, whose keener mind grasped all that these results implied, did not hesitate to declare the general law that all substances were capable of existing in three different states, and he illustrated his belief most forcibly. “Let us consider for a moment what would happen to the different substances which form the earth, if the temperature should be quickly changed. Let us suppose that the earth were suddenly placed in a region where the temperature would be much above that of boiling water; soon the air, all liquids which can be vaporized at a temperature near that of boiling water, and many metallic substances even, would expand, be transformed into air-like fluids, and form part of the atmosphere.

“On the contrary, if the earth should be suddenly placed in a very cold temperature, for example, that of Jupiter or Saturn, the water of our rivers and seas, and, probably, the greatest number of liquids which we know would become solid.”

“Air,” according to this supposition, or at least a part of the air-like substances which compose it, “would doubtless cease to exist in its present form; it would be changed to a liquid state, and this change would produce new liquids of which we know nothing.”

Lavoisier was mistaken about the temperature of Jupiter and Saturn, but was right in his supposition that air would become a liquid; however, as experiment did not prove the theory, the prediction was forgotten and the question dropped. It slept a long time, for it was not until 1823 that it was revived by Faraday. The first experiments of this great philosopher were on this subject. He was but twenty-two when he made his first discovery, the liquefaction of chlorine. The details of this experiment have been told by Tyndall. It is well known that when chlorine gas and cold water are united, crystals are formed which contain to every molecule of chlorine ten molecules of water. Faraday put some of these into a closed tube and heated them until two separate liquids appeared; one was water, the other floated on the surface of the water, and a certain professor of Paris declared that it could be nothing but oil carelessly left in the vessel. Faraday having opened the tube, found that this substance began to boil, and then changed with an explosion into a green gas. It was chlorine. Faraday, who was quick-tempered, immediately took his revenge on the professor, to whom he wrote: “You will be pleased to know, sir, that the oil left by carelessness in my apparatus was nothing less than liquefied chlorine.”

This first success decided the career of the young chemist. He announced that all gases could be reduced to this state if subjected to a sufficient pressure, and he undertook a series of experiments, of which the success was doubtful, but the danger certain. He operated in this way: He took a thick glass tube in the form of an inverted U; one branch was left empty, in the other the materials for producing the gas to be studied were placed and the whole closed. Obliged to gather in the empty branch, the gas continually increased in pressure, and there were two possible results to the experiment; either the gas would not change its state, and the pressure would increase until the vessel broke, or when a certain limit of pressure was reached, then the liquid would appear and would continue to accumulate as long as the gas was disengaged. A dozen gases were reduced in this way; among them were the following, which we shall need: Ammonia, sulphurous acid, carbonic acid, and protoxide of nitrogen, which at a temperature of ten degrees required a pressure equal to sixty atmospheres.

This pressure leaves no doubt about the danger which one runs in carrying on such researches. If we remember that steam boilers generally support a pressure of no more than ten atmospheres, if we recall the number and the horror of their explosions we can hardly understand how a simple glass tube could resist a pressure five or six times as great. When a gas reaches the point of liquefaction, then the pressure ceases to increase, but if it does not change from that condition the pressure increases until an explosion necessarily occurs, and the debris of the vessel is scattered as powder scatters the fragments of a shell. In the course of Faraday’s researches he had thirty explosions. They did not stop him, but it is easy to see that they did not encourage others.

Happily there is a less dangerous method of reaching the same result, it is to freeze the gas. In the same way that the vapor of water is condensed when the temperature is lowered, so gases, which are really vapors, will yield to sufficient cold. In 1824, Bussy succeeded in condensing sulphurous acid gas. The gas was introduced into a balloon, which was plunged into a freezing mixture of ice and salt. The gas was liquefied and could be preserved indefinitely, if the balloon were enclosed in an enamel vessel. In heating, it gave off vapors which, by their pressure kept the remainder of the fluid, providing the glass was strong enough. Thus, in two ways, by cold and by pressure, and still better, by both combined, it is possible to liquefy a large number of gases.

When water is heated, it remains immovable up to 100 degrees Centigrade, but then it is changed into vapor, or boils. This boiling is characterized by a peculiar feature, the temperature remains fixed at 100 degrees. It must be concluded, therefore, that the heat produced by the furnace and absorbed by the liquid is simply used in transforming the water into vapor. This fact was first discovered by the English philosopher, Black, who, not being able to explain the phenomenon, was content to demonstrate it and to speak of the heat as latent. He saw that it took five and a half times as long to change water into vapor as to heat it from zero to 100 degrees, and that consequently it must require five and a half times as much heat to work the change. Such is the law of boiling in the air, but let us see what it is in a vacuum.

It is clear that the pressure of the atmosphere on water is a hindrance to its expansion into vapor, and that this hindrance increases or diminishes with the pressure. In a vacuum, of course, the liquid is free from the pressure, so that boiling ought to take place at a lower temperature.

And experiment teaches that this is the case; water boils at a temperature of 82° or 65°, as the pressure is reduced to one half or a quarter of an atmosphere, it boils at zero, and even below, in a vacuum. And we reach this remarkable result, that the boiling and freezing points unite, and that ice is formed while vapor is set free. But, although the boiling is advanced, although it takes place at zero instead of at 100 degrees, although the vapor is cold instead of hot, and the change takes place in a vacuum instead of in the air, it is a general law that a large quantity of heat is used, becomes latent, and enters into the formation of vapor.

Supposing that we fill a bronze vessel of very thick sides with water, close it with a lid and fit into it a valve loaded with lead. Place this in a furnace whose temperature has been raised to, say, 230 degrees. The water will reach this temperature, and vapor will accumulate until it reaches a pressure equal to more than twenty-seven atmospheres.

[581]

Let us now open the valve, the vapor will escape, and as it carries with it the heat necessary for its expansion, the temperature of the water will gradually fall until it reaches 100 degrees, after which the boiling will continue slowly and regularly; thus the water has been cooled and is kept below the temperature of its surrounding wall because it must absorb the extra heat which is required to change it to vapor. This apparatus is called Papin’s digester.

There is a similar experiment, but performed in a vacuum at the ordinary temperature. Put some water into a closed decanter which is connected by a tube with an air pump. As soon as a vacuum is produced the water begins to boil and to freeze, for the vapor can only be formed by borrowing heat, and there is nothing to take it from but the water itself, which soon reaches zero and is frozen. This apparatus makes a very simple ice house, as useful as convenient, and it proves, first, that boiling takes place at the lowest temperatures providing the pressure is sufficiently diminished; secondly, that it is always accompanied by a loss of heat; and thirdly, that it lowers the temperature of the liquid below that of the surrounding envelope, and the more as the vacuum is more complete.

Just as opening the valve lets the vapor accumulated above the water in Papin’s digester escape, and causes a fall in the temperature, so, by opening the reservoirs in which one has confined a liquefied gas, one sees it fall back to the boiling point. For example, take the liquid obtained from the compression of sulphurous acid gas. As soon as the reservoir containing it is opened the liquid begins to boil, and a vapor is formed, it is the gas which re-forms. It absorbs the latent heat necessary, taking it from exterior objects by radiation from the liquid itself, from the vessel which holds it, and from the materials into which it has been placed. It cools these until the point at which sulphurous acid gas boils is reached, twelve degrees below zero; then the liquid remains balanced between the radiation which tends to heat it and vaporization, which cools it. The final result is that the temperature is lowered and remains fixed at twelve degrees below zero. This is not all: just as the boiling point of water is lowered below zero in a vacuum, in the same way that of sulphurous acid gas falls below twelve degrees. Bussy brought it down to sixty-eight, where it remained; not only water, but mercury may be frozen by this means.

Finally, the boiling of liquefied gases will freeze all neighboring substances, and the greatest cold which one could obtain is produced by their boiling in a vacuum. This property of sulphurous acid was discovered in a still greater degree in protoxide of nitrogen, which was changed into a liquid at a temperature of 0 degrees, and under a pressure of thirty atmospheres. If allowed to boil in a vacuum, a temperature of one hundred and ten degrees below zero was obtained. When science has sown trade reaps the harvest; since by allowing liquefied gases to boil, a temperature of one hundred and ten degrees below zero can be obtained, and since the vapors which they give off carry away an enormous amount of heat from the surrounding bodies, it is possible by means of this cold produced to freeze water, make cold drinks, solidify mercury, cool cellars, prevent food from decay, and to do many other things of similar nature. A new art became possible, that of making cold. To-day it is at the height of success. It is founded on this general principle: to liquefy the gas by means of pressure, taking care that it does not become heated, to introduce it into a freezer, where it is allowed to boil, and from which it absorbs the heat, to carry off the gas and introduce it again into the vessel, where it will by pressure be liquefied. The action is constant, the same gas acts indefinitely, and there is no other expense than that which is caused by running the pumps. In spite of these fine results and the extraordinary efforts put forth, the end was not attained. To be sure, some gases had yielded, but still there was a large number which resisted every effort. Was it necessary to give up the idea that the law of liquefaction of gases was general, or was it true that the exceptions were only the results of insufficient means? Faraday had never varied in his belief. One easily returns to the affections of his youth, and he believed that the time had come for making fresh efforts to prove his theory. After a rest of twenty-two years he determined to again take up the liquefaction of the rebellious gases. Means were not wanting. Thilorier had taught him how to solidify easily large masses of carbonic acid, and by mixing this solid with ether make a powerful freezing mixture; protoxide of nitrogen could be prepared with the same ease and abundance, and would boil regularly in a vacuum at a temperature of one hundred and twenty degrees below zero. Thus he was able to secure a degree of cold before unknown. For compression, he had a pump formed of two parts; one took the gas at its generation, and accumulated it in a reservoir under a pressure of fifteen atmospheres; the second part then received it; here it was subjected to a much greater pressure in a strong glass vessel which was plunged into carbonic acid or protoxide of nitrogen. Cold and pressure were thus combined. At that time nothing more could be done; fortunately this was enough to subdue most gases. Faraday had the satisfaction of liquefying nearly all gases, and of extending the law which he had announced, but still six, only six, refused to give up; among them were marsh gas, oxygen, nitrogen, and hydrogen. Science is a battle which must be continually renewed; the more the gases resisted, the greater the efforts made to conquer them. At first, new and energetic means of pressure were invented. Aimé, a professor in Algiers, secured a pressure of four hundred atmospheres, without result. M. Cailletet used a hydraulic press which exerted a force equal to seven hundred atmospheres, and afterward increased this to one thousand atmospheres, but still the gas resisted. At last it was found that pressure alone, however enormous it might be, could not liquefy the gases.

An English philosopher, called Andrews, put a new face on matters. He took carbonic acid gas at a temperature of about thirteen degrees and compressed it. The gas began to diminish in volume, and under a pressure of fifty atmospheres was suddenly liquefied, taking quickly a very great density, and falling to the bottom of the vessel, where it remained separated from its vapor by a surface as plainly marked as that which marks water and air. Andrews afterward tried the same experiment at a higher temperature, about twenty-one degrees. The same results were produced with but one difference: the liquefaction was less sudden. At a temperature of thirty-two degrees, instead of a separate and distinct liquid, undulating striæ appeared as the only signs of a change in condition which was not completed. Finally, at a temperature of above thirty-two degrees there was neither striæ nor liquefaction, but still it seemed as if a trace was preserved, for under certain pressure the density increased more quickly, and the volume diminished more rapidly. Thirty-two degrees is then the limit, a point between the degrees which permit and which prevent liquefaction. It is the critical point which marks the separation between two very different conditions of a substance; below, we have a liquid; above, there is no change in appearance, but there enters a new condition, whose characteristics I will describe.

Generally a liquid is more dense than its vapor; for this reason it falls to the bottom, and the two are separated by a level surface. But supposing that we heat the vessel which contains them. The liquid expands little by little, until it equals, or even surpasses, the expansion of the gas, so that an equal volume weighs less and less. On the other hand, a continually increasing quantity of vapor is formed, accumulates at the top of the vessel, and becomes constantly heavier. Now, if the density of the vapor increases, or if that of the liquid diminishes under the right temperature, the two densities become equal. Then there is no longer a reason for the[582] liquid falling, the vapor rising, or for a surface of separation. The two are mingled. Neither are they any longer distinguished by their different degrees of heat. When this critical point is reached, it is impossible to tell whether it is liquid or gas, since in either state it has the same density, the same heat, the same appearance, the same properties. This is a new state, a gaseous liquid state. The discovery of these properties showed why all the attempts to liquefy air had been useless. At an ordinary temperature the gas is in a gaseous liquid condition. Liquefaction can take place only when the liquid is separated from the vapor by its own greater density. The next step was therefore to lower the temperature below that of the critical point. This was understood and carried out about the same time by MM. Cailletet and Raoul Pictet. On the 2nd of December, 1877, M. Cailletet subjected oxygen in a glass tube to a pressure of three hundred atmospheres, and reduced its temperature to twenty-nine degrees below zero. The gas did not change in appearance, and was in all probability in the gaseous liquid condition. Nothing but more cold was wanting to liquefy it. The valve was turned, the gas escaped, and the temperature fell two hundred degrees, and the characteristic whitish mist was seen. Oxygen had been liquefied, perhaps solidified. The same result was reached with nitrogen, but nothing was done with hydrogen. While M. Cailletet performed this decisive experiment at Paris, M. Raoul Pictet achieved the same at Geneva. He had at his command all necessary materials, so that he subjected the oxygen to a pressure of three hundred and twenty atmospheres, and to a temperature of one hundred and forty degrees below zero. In this condition the gas was probably below the critical point, and when the reservoir was opened suddenly it began to boil and was thrown in every direction. M. Pictet believed that he liquefied, and even more, had solidified hydrogen, but he was doubtless mistaken. These results, however, were not satisfactory. M. Cailletet was preparing a new experiment when the Academy received the two telegrams given at the beginning of this article.

Wroblewski and his colleague, Olszewski, had boiled ethylene, a gas similar to that used for heating purposes, in a vacuum. The temperature fell to one hundred and fifty degrees below zero. It was the greatest degree of cold yet obtained, and was sufficient. The success was complete. The oxygen, previously compressed in a glass tube, became a fixed liquid. It was like the others, in the form of a colorless and transparent liquid, like water, but of a little less density. Its critical point was at one hundred and thirteen degrees below zero, forming itself below, never above, this temperature, and boiling rapidly at a temperature of one hundred and eighty-six degrees below zero. A few days after this the two Polish professors succeeded, in the same way, in liquefying nitrogen.

But if the question was settled for air was it also for nitrogen? M. Pictet, in his experiment, had used a weight of three hundred and twenty atmospheres, and cold of one hundred and forty degrees below zero. When he opened the reservoir a jet of gas, mingled with mist of steel gray color, burst forth. At the beginning of the experiment, solid fragments accompanied the jet; these fell to the floor with a sound like that of grains of lead. Naturally, M. Pictet thought that he had not only liquefied, but even solidified hydrogen, but unfortunately the experiment was not wholly satisfactory. For perfect success still more acute cold was needed, and here was oxygen and nitrogen to get it from. Nitrogen, the most refractory, was taken, and a degree of cold undreamed of before, attained; in the open air it reached one hundred and ninety-four degrees below zero, and in a vacuum two hundred and thirteen degrees below. These temperatures were so low that it was necessary to invent new methods for measuring them. A mercury thermometer was useless, because it froze at forty degrees, and alcohol because it became a solid at one hundred and thirty degrees. No liquid is able to resist such temperatures, so electric, or hydrogen thermometers, were employed.

Wroblewski and Olszewski have but lately achieved success. Having compressed the hydrogen in the above named manner, they froze it by means of nitrogen boiling in a vacuum. Still it did not liquefy. It was yet in a gaseous liquid state, but when the tube was opened then there appeared a transparent and colorless liquid. At last the question of the liquefaction of gases, which has been discussed so long, has been settled. When we think of the simplicity of these final experiments, it seems strange that the problem was so difficult to solve. The trouble lay in the fact that at the start there was everything to find out; there was the critical point and the means of freezing to discover. It was necessary to proceed by steps, using each gas for the reduction of the one more stubborn than itself. Really, as Biot says, nothing is so easy as what was discovered yesterday, nothing so difficult as what must be discovered to-morrow. It might be asked whether the result is worth the trouble necessary to collect these liquids. The answer must be left to the future. The chemist will take up this new law of gases, and art will adapt it to its purposes. For the present, all that it amounts to is that the natural philosopher has proven that all kinds of materials may exist in three conditions, and obey the same common laws.—Abridged and Translated from “Révue des Deux Mondes” for “The Chautauquan.”

AMERICAN DECORATIVE ART.

BY COLEMAN E. BISHOP.

Among the many so-called “booms” that followed the civil war, as the result of the wonderful intellectual, moral and material impulse that it gave the country, one of the most marked and promising of influence on the national character is the advancement in decorative art that this generation has seen and felt. Its presence and influence are observable in the general demand for more artistic interior finishing and furnishing: for better form and coloring in wall paper, frescoing, painting, floor-coverings, upholstery and drapery, and in that broader study of the harmonious wholes of which these are related parts.

It is not an art renaissance, so much as a new birth of popular art feeling; a creation, rather than a revival. Facts seem to indicate the beginning of the long-talked-of American school of art. It is a peculiar, and peculiarly-encouraging circumstance that this new development is native and popular instead of imported and select.

For, we may be very sure that any movement that is to abide and have much power over our people must be one that touches the average citizen. To reach him it must be American. It need not be divergent from, and it should not be antagonistic to established art principles; but, not the less, in its sympathies, subjects, and methods it must be national. An art that is to live with any people must be of that people. With us this requirement of popularity is doubly strong, because we are so intensely national; because all institutions live and move and have their being in the commonalty, and because the citizen is the only source of living patronage of[583] art here, where the state does not foster art as foreign states do. The artist must eat, and the people must feed him. Before they will pay for art, they must have sufficient culture to care for it dollars’ worth, and it must be of a nature to reach their sympathies. Even in monarchial England, Ruskin perceives the necessity for beginning at the bottom to upbuild national taste, and he addresses volumes of letters upon art “To the Workmen and Laborers of Great Britain” (see “Fors Clavigera”).

We have not much to hope for in the way of education of American taste from imported art, for this can never reach or touch the people. A few dilettanti in our cities can do very little toward creating, or even influencing a national taste. They have no rapport with true American culture; they offend national sensibilities by unreasoning rejection of everything undertaken here; and, above all, if they be brought to the test, it will be found that they generally have no fixed art principles back of their opinions and—prejudices. If the average American could not appreciate foreign works, he was not much helped to a better understanding of them by their admirers; and he came to think himself at least quite capable of correctly estimating devotees who could no more give good reasons for worshiping everything foreign than they could for scorning everything indigenous.

The most hopeful augury for this new interest is in the fact that it relates to that department of art which goes most directly into the lives and the homes of the people: and that it has been the first to take on marked American characteristics. Moreover, its commercial features will be potent influences for its spread and growth. It is capable of being at once the refiner, the educator and the almoner of thousands.

Confidence in the inherent genius of my countrymen, led me years ago to predict that all that was needed for the establishment of a school in any art was (1) the foundational training of mind or hand; (2) a belief that it can be done; (3) a market for it. The last most important of all, because demand inspires originality and creates supply, and because recompense is the great stimulus to inspiration. Genius in this age is pretty apt to have an eye to the main chance.

For all these reasons we are prepared for the conclusion that the impulse given to decorative art by the organizations known as the “Decorative Art Society,” and the “Associated Artists,” all of New York City, is the most valuable of anything that has been done since the nation’s new sense of the beautiful awoke. These are the parts of one movement possessing these characteristics:

It is distinctively American.

It has compelled recognition at home and abroad as well of its indigenous originality as of its artistic correctness and merit.

It has begun the production of exclusively American materials, designed and manufactured in this country, which are unequaled by anything foreign.

It is commercially successful.

By virtue of all these achievements, it is doing a missionary work for American art by encouraging similar efforts in other cities and other countries; by demonstrating that “good can come out of Nazareth;” by putting in the way of thousands of talented women, suffering under repression and lack of opportunity or for inspiration of hope, the opening for culture and compensation combined.

It is to celebrate what has been accomplished, and haply, to suggest the opportunities open to others, that this narration is essayed.

The movement was, indeed, patriotic in its birth. It was inspired by the Centennial Exposition at Philadelphia. The specimens of decorative art from the South Kensington School in the English exhibit impressed Mrs. Thomas M. Wheeler, of New York, by their lack of originality and freedom, insomuch that she declared, “We can do better than that in this country without any school!” and she set about doing it in genuine American spirit. The first organization, The Decorative Art Society, which she instituted, was composed of several hundred ladies of New York. The plan was national, philanthropic and commercial—to serve art, help women, beat the British, and make money. Ladies in a large number of cities were influenced by correspondence and other efforts to form auxiliary societies. The seed of the new art interest thus widely sown is still bearing crops.

From this nucleus there were before long offshoots in two directions—in a higher and in a more rudimentary line. The Woman’s Exchange was organized to provide a market for the large surplus of handiwork of all kinds that was pressed upon the society; and a less numerous, more compact organization was originated to attempt a higher development of the work—this being called the Associated Artists. Thus they had three efficient agencies occupying ground in this order, artistically considered—The Woman’s Exchange, The Decorative Art Society, The Associated Artists. Each of these is still doing its appointed work, but our present purpose has to do only with the most advanced—The Associated Artists.

It should be said, however, of the Woman’s Exchange, that it has spread the most widely; because it deals with the simple forms of ornamentation which require but little training, but it produces articles that are salable. Thus it has become a bread-and-butter enterprise to a large mass of women. Not only do all of our leading cities now boast of Exchanges, but Princess Louise, after her first visit to this country, caused one to be formed in Canada. This “Yankee notion” has also been transplanted to Germany and Sweden.

The Associated Artists, as first organized, was directed by Mrs. Wheeler and three gentlemen, artists like herself—Mrs. Wheeler having charge of the needlework department; one gentleman, of interior wood decoration; another, of glass painting, and the third, of the color scheme, painting, etc. They undertook the interior finish of rooms and houses upon entirely new decorative notions. Among their public undertakings, also, were the entire interior decoration of the Madison Square Theater, including the drop curtain; the finish of the “Veterans’ Room” in the Seventh Regiment Armory, and parts of the Union League Club House.

The business success of the Associated Artists grew on the managers. The educational and philanthropic aims were in danger of being overshadowed by the commercial consideration, and New York gave them abundant employment without their going into all the world and preaching the gospel of beauty and self-help to all women. Moreover, Mrs. Wheeler’s department in the work grew so rapidly and opened out possibilities of development and creation so great, that she decided to make it a special and separate enterprise. This she did three years ago, retaining the name, Associated Artists.

Success has vindicated the wisdom of the segregation, while the other members of the older organization have not suffered by the separation. From that time to the present the enterprise has been managed and worked by women only.

The gentlemen formerly of the Associated Artists are working on independent lines. The decoration of the new Lyceum Theater, New York, is the latest and greatest triumph of one of them.

The Associated Artists now have to do with decoration as using or applied to textile fabrics, including as well all upholstery as the hangings, draperies, tapestry and applied decoration of any part of a room. In the building which they occupy in East Twenty-third Street, there are large exhibition and salesrooms, the studios or designing rooms, the departments of embroidery, of tassels, fringes, etc., of tapestry, and the curtain department—an entire floor. There are about sixty employes.

This is an art school as well as a business house. Many women come to them with no other preparatory training than[584] the drawing lessons of our public schools afford. The best talent is furnished by the Women’s Art School of Cooper Union. Aside from such preparation, the Associated Artists furnish the education of their own designers and workers. Unendowed, small, modest and young as it is, we shall see in what respects this American school has outstripped the great English institution.

One of the most serious obstacles that the effort to create American design has had to meet, is the lack of suitable materials to work with. All imported textiles were found to be, in color, texture and pattern, unsuited to the new uses and ideas; and American manufacturers were so much under tutelage to European tastes, that nothing different was to be had from them. It is a fact as lamentable as it is astonishing, that a carpet, wall paper or textile mill in this country rarely has an American designer of patterns and colors. The schemes of color made by the Associated Artists were out of harmony with French, English and American fabrics and embroidery materials. The colors of these were too sharp, strong and cardinal for the blending of tones that was sought.

To meet this case a Massachusetts silk mill was engaged to manufacture, first embroidery silks of the desired shades; and, that being accomplished, to undertake the coloring of fabrics. The greater step to the manufacture of special fabrics was next taken. Now the Associated Artists use only materials made for them in this country.

There are three different mills engaged on their work, one of which last year supplied them with $30,000 worth. The work is a great advertisement to a mill—such recognition have these fabrics gained, here and in Europe, for fineness, design and beauty. Several European decorators of first rate have sent for samples of them. Foreign artists and designers visiting this country regularly have in their note-book memoranda to see the wonderful new American fabrics at the Associated Artists. These goods have also been used for garments. Mrs. Langtry, Mrs. Cornwallis West and Ellen Terry bought largely of them for their wardrobes. Felix Moschelles, artist, and son of that Moschelles who was the biographer of Mendelssohn, declared that there was nothing in Europe to compare with these joint products of American artists and artisans. Truly, there is nothing on the shelves of dry goods men on either continent to match them; they revive the traditions of the wonderful products of Oriental looms.

Another chef d’œuvre of these artists is their tapestry work. It has the definiteness and freedom of drawing, and the delicacy and feeling of color of an oil painting; nay, deft fingers with a needle and thread can produce effects in colors that the painter’s brush can not, because colored threads reflect and complement each other. This work is done upon the surface of a canvas, the stitch being similar to that used upon “honey comb canvas,” all surface work. To make it more effective, a fabric has been woven with a double warp, the embroidery being run in under the upper thread, somewhat like darning. The process and fabrics were invented by Mrs. Wheeler and are protected by letters-patent in this country and Europe.

A portrait was woven in this way, thread by thread, so faithful as to be preferred by the family, to the best work they had of photographer or painter. A piece of this tapestry has been under the hands of from one to three embroiderers—or darners, if you please—every day for nearly a year. It is one of ten large needle-work pictures of American subjects now in preparation. One of them is a Zuni Indian girl, by Miss Rosina Emmett, and another, “Hiawatha,” a typical Indian girl of the North, by Miss Dora Wheeler. (These two artists are directors of the Association.) The pictures are life size, and are very characteristic studies. The remaining eight tapestries are mainly upon events of American history. Only close examination would convince any one that they were not oil paintings. After seeing this work I am inclined to think less of the famous Bayeux tapestry and all other pictorial needlework. William the Conqueror was unwise not to have deferred his exploits until Yankee girls could embroider them. The best we can now offer William is to invade and conquer England over again—with American tapestry.

These high-class works are mentioned simply to show the height that this line of decorative art has reached, in a short time, by the efforts of native genius and mechanical skill.

Nor is the story yet all told of the relation of design to manufactures. One of the largest manufacturers of paper hangings in this country not long since offered prizes amounting to $2,000 for the best four designs for wall paper. The competition was great, sixty designs being entered by European artists, and many times more by American. When the awards were opened the examining committee, as well as the donors, were astonished to learn that the Associated Artists had taken all the prizes, the European trained talent none. Now, the freshest, best-selling patterns for wall paper are of American design.

There is more still to tell that is gratifying to patriotism. These efforts have discovered to the world, as a fact, what was before the cherished theory of a few, viz.: that an American school of art already existed, dominant in brains and hands, waiting to be awakened to activity. There is a distinctive character in all that has been done in decoration, different from anything seen in other people’s work. It has a nationality in choice of subjects and materials, an originality in conception, a freedom and freshness in treatment, that fairly mark the beginning of a new school. More than that, when the work of native designers has come in comparison with that of the Kensington or other schools, it has justified the opinion that was expressed at the outset as to the ability of our women to surpass the latter.

When the Decorative Society was organized, it sent to Kensington for a teacher, and employed the one that was the most highly recommended by the management there. At the close of the very first lesson that was given by this instructor to the leading ladies of the society, she was overcome by the reception her teaching had met. “Why,” she said, ruefully, “these ladies have got from me, in a single lesson, all that I know. I have nothing more to teach them.” This incident reveals the reason for the contrast in work—gives the explanation of the stereotyped forms and stiff designs of the foreign school. The difference is in the human material that enters into the work in either case—the difference of development and general culture back of special art training. The English girl who is forced to earn a livelihood by needlework, and qualifies therefor at Kensington, represents a different order of preparatory training, general culture, social position and aims, from those leaders in art who engage in the work con amore in this country. But there is, also, a race difference that runs through all society in both countries. The American woman is a thinker—the English an observer; the American woman is by nature an innovator, the English conventional; the one an originator, the other an imitator. The same climatic, dietary, social and political influences that make the American artisan the most inventive and free handicraftsman in the world; the American business man the most daring and rapid, have conspired to make their sisters, and their cousins, and their aunts the most original and apt pupils of art in the world. We may confidently look to them, and the sons that they shall give their country, to go on and create for it a school of art as free and as characteristic as are all our institutions.

The movement is but in the embryo stage. All this is the result of a single effort, and it is still young. Time is of the essence of art culture, and the United States offers ample verge and scope enough for a wonderful work in the future. The field for invention in decorative art is boundless, because genius may touch every item and phase of home and carry into the innermost life of the whole people the refining influence of Beauty.

[585]

SOME MODERN LITERARY MEN OF GERMANY.

Professor George Ebers, the distinguished Egyptologist, strange to say, is known in America more by his novels than by his scientific attainments. He had a severe attack of rheumatism, or something similar, which confined him to his bed for a long time, but did not prevent him from using his mind, and during this tedious suffering he undertook, as I think he himself relates, in the preface of his first novel, to put into story facts and history with which his mind was so richly stored. The work grew and fascinated him, and now I dare say it has not only become remunerative but beguiling. Since the death of Prof. Lepsius, the distinguished scholar of Egyptian history, George Ebers will doubtless stand in his stead as the next best informed man in Germany, on Egypt. The deceased Lepsius thought highly of one of our countrymen, Dr. Joseph P. Thompson, as a successful student under him, and here we pay a tribute of respect to this generous man who never failed to escort party after party of Americans through the Egyptian department of the Berlin Museum, explaining the tombs and reading the inscriptions. “The Egyptian King’s Daughter” is the title of Ebers’s most elaborate novel, and if one is disposed to read it carefully and observe all the foot-notes, there is quite a chance for the reader to feel delighted with himself for all he can acquire in this way about Egypt, and to have an inexpressible longing for more. And what a power of enchanting one these Egyptians have, with their gloomy and mystified learning, and their frequent contemplation of death. To give the reader an idea of Ebers’s style, in romance writing and subject matter, we quote what accurate pictures he gives of all the state of affairs in Egypt. Speaking of the schools or universities, in his novel entitled “Uarda,” he says: “The lower school was open to every son of a free citizen, and was often frequented by several hundred boys, who also found night quarters there. The parents were, of course, required either to pay for their maintenance or to send due supplies of provision for the keep of their children at school. This university, or school, was connected with the House of Seti, or one of the sanctuaries of the Necropolis, founded by Rameses I, and carried on by his son Seti. High festivals were held there in honor of the god of the gods of the under world. This extensive building was intended to be equal to the great original foundations of priestly learning at Heliopolis and Memphis; they were regulated on the same pattern, and with the object of raising the royal residence of Upper Egypt, namely, Thebes, above the capitals of Lower Egypt, in regard to philosophical distinction.” “Many proficient in the healing art,” he tells us, “were brought up in the house of Seti, but few need to remain after passing the examination of the degree of Scribe. The most gifted were sent to Heliopolis, where flourished in the great “Hall of the Ancients,” the most celebrated medical faculty of the whole country, whence they returned to Thebes, endowed with the highest honors in surgery, in ocular treatment, or in any other branch of their profession, and became physicians to the king, or made a living by imparting their learning, and by being called in to consult on serious cases.” From this short extract from Ebers any one can see that he treats his situations, although lying so remote in history, in the most simple and natural manner. Egypt, with her enormous architecture, her ponderous institutions, peculiar beliefs and somber, heated atmosphere, is not to him the dark “sorceress of the Nile,” but a real, breathing and tangible thing—he has so seriously studied her that he writes of her as he would of a familiar friend in whom he is intensely interested.

Ebers not alone excels in historical pictures and accurate descriptions, but he has, as a novelist, much feeling, and makes clear comments on human nature—for example, in writing of Nebsecht, the learned surgeon, in his novel “Uarda,” he says: “Nebsecht was of the silent, reserved nature of the learned man, who, free from all desire of external recognition, finds a rich satisfaction in the delights of investigation; and he regarded every demand on him to give proof of his capacity, as a vexatious but unavoidable intrusion on his unanswering but laborious and faithful investigations.” Then he remarks Nebsecht loved Pentaur, who possessed all the gifts he lacked, manly beauty, child-like lightness of heart, the frankest openness, artistic power, and the gift of expressing in word and song every emotion that stirred his soul.

Again, behold the picture or a glimpse into a feast of the best Egyptians. In an open court, surrounded by gaily painted wooden pillars, and lighted by many lamps, sat the feasting priests in two long rows, on comfortable arm chairs. Before each stood a little table, and servants were occupied in supplying them with the dishes and drinks which were laid out on a splendid table in the middle of the court. Joints of gazelle, roasted geese and ducks, meat pasties, artichokes, asparagus, and other vegetables and various cakes and sweet-meats were carried to the guests, and their beakers well filled with the choice wines of which there was never a lack in the lofts of the house of Seti. In the spaces between the guests stood servants with metal bowls, in which they might wash their hands, and towels of fine linen.

“Tante Therese,” a drama in four acts by Paul Lindau, is a cleverly conceived and brightly written thing, showing that the writer is full of pathos and wit. The audience cried and laughed and applauded the first night it was given in Berlin. In fact, Lindau is so sharp a critic and so talented a writer, that, as editor of Die Gegenwart, a neat and pungent weekly, he was a great potentate in Berlin society. His pen spared no one—musician, artist, soldier—and even royalty fell under its point if he, Lindau, was not in sympathy with their productions or actions. He is the life of a dinner party, the most interested musician and art connoisseur, and among journalists and in the literary coterie he is the star which lights or exposes the objects around. His reviews in Die Gegenwart (The Present) are somewhat after the matter of the reviews in The Nation—a little pessimistic or hypercritical, but always accomplishing their object, and whatever comes from his pen is looked for with eagerness. With a lovely home, and a beautiful young wife to do its honors, he attracts about him many brilliant companies. He was once thrown into prison for having written something which was not prudent in regard to government matters—the press being not so free in Germany, as the reader will observe, as in this country.

Dr. Julius Rodenburg, editor of Die Rundschau, is of Jewish extraction, resembling Felix Mendelssohn so much that one must immediately remark it. As Mendelssohn was also a Jew, the association seems to grow more intimate in one’s mind, as an acquaintance with this light-hearted, spirited man progresses. He seems never to be weary—the world and his friend have a charm for him, and he and his intelligent wife know well how to attract them to their weekly receptions. They both speak English well, and have spent some time in England. He has published a little book entitled “Ferien in England”—Vacation in England.

Sometimes he comes out in his review, which corresponds to our Atlantic Monthly, with learned and elaborate articles, but his time is, as editor, consumed with other people’s productions. Editors of papers and presidents of colleges have little time for anything but reflection upon the merits or demerits of others.

Ferdinand Gregorovius, half German and half Italian, has[586] published four volumes of the “History of Rome,” also in 1874 a very attractive volume on “Lucrezia Borgia.” In the back of the book appears a fac-simile letter from Pope Alexander IV. to Lucrezia, and one of hers to Isabella Gonzogo—most curious documents.

Dr. Friedrich Kapp, who came to America when Carl Schurz did, returned after a short residence and entered political life in his own country. Beyond his exertion in this direction he has found time for considerable literary work; has edited the “Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin,” which contains a preface by Berthold Auerbach. Dr. Kapp is better known, perhaps, through the press, than through his books.

Adolf Stahr, in his book on Goethe’s “Frauengestalten,” or female characters, gives a close analysis, and if the same theme has been written and rewritten upon as all Goethe’s productions have, Stahr maintains a dignified review, as if he were surveying the subjects for the first time. His wife, who is a novelist, is equally literary, and the two old people have grown beautiful in common sympathy in their winter work and summer resorts. She attracts more attention than he at a fashionable watering place, but one is the accompaniment of the other, and both have done honest, good work.

HISTORIC NIAGARA.

BY EDITH SESSIONS TUPPER.

The Chautauquan takes back to his or her busy life in the school room, the college chair, the pulpit, the sanctum, the parlor, and the kitchen, many beautiful pictures of memory.

In fancy does one often see the branches of grand old trees, fit pillars of one of God’s first temples, cross above one’s head, making a network for the laughing, blue, summer skies; in imagination does one again see a green landscape turn golden in the light of a fast setting sun. Ah! those vistas about the Hall in the Grove; can not you see those leafy avenues bending down to the lovely lake, now in the early morning stretching glassy and waveless, now at noon, tumbling and tossing its white caps abroad, now in the solemn night lying black and motionless, and reflecting the light of stars? Can one who has seen the moon rise over Long Point ever forget the sight? Recall now that midsummer night, when drifting out in your boat you idly watched those masses of clouds shift, part and separate to let the white glory of the moon shine through! How serene and lofty she hung, poised in mid-heaven. Higher and higher she climbed, pouring her wealth of light down upon the clouds heaped beneath her, until they, massed and piled upon each other, seemed like the glittering domes and towers of a city not made with hands. In vivid fancy you could almost trace the shining streets of gold, the gates of pearl, the walls of precious stones. The summer wind sighed softly around; the murmuring waters rippled about the keel of your boat; on the shore the lights danced and flickered like fireflies. Such a night is never to be forgotten. It is a scene of enchantment, a mid-summer night’s dream.

Ah! these beautiful pictures “that hang on memory’s wall,” these day dreams, by their potent magic, heal the heart and brain when life’s fret and worry are hardly to be endured. A writer has truly said:

To all these beautiful pictures of memory many a Chautauquan adds the remembrance of one indescribable scene—a look at the great fall.

A short trip to Niagara is indeed one of the features of a summer’s sojourn at the city in the woods. Every week a crowd of excursionists leaves with reluctance the delights of the fair lake and takes a day’s jaunt to the Falls, which are distant about eighty miles from Chautauqua. Many of you, my readers, remember that trip—the magnificent views of Lake Erie, which you got from time to time, on the way to Buffalo. Then the run down from that city along Niagara River, past Fort Erie and Black Rock, historic names. You remember how your heart beat a little faster when the brakeman called, “Niagara Falls,” and you realized that you were soon to stand in sight of one of the wonders of the world. Of course you remember the clamoring hackmen, once heard not easily forgotten. Then have you forgotten that short walk or drive down a shaded street, past many shops filled with feathers and Indian temptations? Do you recall that dull, booming sound which suddenly broke upon your ear, and can you not now sense that delicious, fresh smell of the water as you turned into Prospect Park, and ah! can you ever forget when you at last stood within hand reach of that awful presence, when your bewildered and startled eyes glanced now at the shouting, leaping, laughing, maddening, scornful rapids; now at that overwhelming mass which flung itself over that tremendous precipice into a seemingly bottomless pit? Was it a pleasant day when you were there? Do you then remember the exquisite coloring of the water, the dazzling white, the vivid green, the pellucid blue? How the sun seemed to catch up every drop of that vast volume, and shine through it, giving a tiny rainbow effect to every crystalline particle? How the rapids called aloud to each other in glee, and chased one another in a mad race, as to which should first make that mighty leap? Or was it a dull, gloomy day? Then did they not shriek aloud in horror, and hurl themselves in black and hissing despair to their awful plunge?

Did you chance at nightfall to drive or walk about Goat Island, and hear the chattering and cawing of myriads of crows, which blackened the tree tops? This is their rendezvous, and the woods are alive with them, and their weird sounds at dusk, added to that ever present, sullen roar, produce an unearthly and fantastic effect. Did not your breath almost forsake your body when you crossed to the three fair sisters lying so peacefully far out in the midst of that seething, tumbling, foaming hell of waters?

At night you saw the electric lights turned on the American Fall, playing now with sulphuric effect, now giving a ghastly, blue appearance, and now turning this white, pure Undine to a very Scarlet Woman. The day on which you first saw these pictures will long be marked with a red letter in your calendar.

But, sublime as is the physical beauty of Niagara, we have[587] to deal with quite another phase of her character; one of which the tourist, limited by time, seldom thinks. It is only after becoming familiar with every inch of her picturesque surroundings, after spending days and weeks drinking in her superb beauty, content to sit, oblivious of time or space, or sun or sky, that one at last remembers that for many miles around the ground is covered with the footprints of history. Ground that has echoed the thundering tread of armies, that has been drunken with the blood of brave men, that now smiles peacefully, from which violets spring, and on which children play.

To say nothing of the French and Indian wars, the country about Niagara was the scene of many of the fiercest struggles of the war of 1812, and some of the sorest defeats to the American side. The battle of Queenston Heights and Lundy’s Lane, or Bridgewater, were both disastrous to the American cause, while Fort George, at the mouth of Niagara River, a hard earned and costly acquisition of the Americans, was wrested from them by General Drummond, who also laid waste Lewiston, Youngstown, Tuscarora, and Manchester, then called, now the village of Niagara Falls. Those were dark days for the Americans, when they fought not only Englishmen, but crafty and treacherous Indians.

The first great battle of the campaign on the Niagara during the war of 1812, was that of Queenston Heights, on the 13th of October. This was the second attempted invasion of Canada, the first having been the humiliating failure of Hull, at Detroit, in August previous. General Stephen Van Rensselaer determined to capture Queenston Heights, and for that purpose, early in the morning, sent two small columns down the river, most of which succeeded in landing under a brisk fire from the vigilant English. Captain John E. Wool led the Regulars up the hill, and was met by the British on the broad plateau, where a sharp engagement took place, ending in the Americans being forced back to the beach. Here they were reinforced and ordered to scale the Heights. This order was obeyed, and for a short time the Americans had the advantage, when suddenly brave General Brock, who defeated Hull at Detroit, and who was now at Fort George, at the mouth of the river, having ridden from thence at full speed, appeared and took command. A furious contest followed, in which the Americans, though fighting with the bravery of despair, were driven to the extreme edge of the precipice, and in which Brock fell, mortally wounded.

Then General Winfield Scott crossed the river and assumed command of the American forces, expecting to be reinforced by the militia, but through stubbornness and cowardice they fell back on their prerogative, and refused to be taken out of the state. Twice was Scott attacked by the British and Indians, and twice repelled them with the bayonet, but at the third attack the Americans were obliged to retreat. Back, back, further yet, over the edge of that awful chasm they went scrambling from ledge to ledge, leaping from rock to rock, stumbling, falling, blindly catching at twig, branch, stem, blade of grass, even, powder blackened, faint, weary, bleeding, wounded, dying, only to reach the river to find no boats waiting to succor them, compelled at last to surrender. Ah! dead heroes! that was indeed a descent into Avernus.

In this engagement the Americans lost one thousand men.

Let the visitor to Niagara not leave until he has taken the drive to Queenston Heights. It is only seven miles below the cataract, not a long drive for a summer afternoon. A pretty drive, too, past many beautiful farms and country seats. Once there one can drive to the top of the broad plateau, on which the lofty and magnificent monument to General Brock stands. Now leave your carriage, go to the front of the plateau, and look. What a view! Directly at your feet lies old Queenstown; across the river old Lewistown; for seven miles before you, peacefully and languidly, as if weary from its terrible work up above, flows the green river, flecked with foam. Yonder, at its mouth, lies Fort Niagara, on the American side; the ruins of Forts George and Mississaga, on the Canadian side, while beyond, far as the eye can reach, stretches Lake Ontario, flooded with the light of a western sun—a sea of glass, mingled with fire.

In the spring of 1813, Isaac Chauncey, an American Commodore, after a successful expedition against York, now Toronto, which he held for four days and then abandoned, after firing the government buildings, captured Fort George. The Americans held it until the following December, when General Drummond appeared on the peninsula, between Lakes Ontario and Erie. On his approach the American garrison abandoned Fort George and fled across the river to Fort Niagara. As they went they ruthlessly burned the village of Newark. One week after, the British captured Fort Niagara, and killed eighty of the garrison, showing no quarter to the sick in the hospital. Then followed the triumphant march of the British up the American side of the river, burning and sacking Youngstown, Lewistown, Tuscarora, Niagara Falls, even to Black Rock and Buffalo. All the farms were laid waste, and desolation stalked relentlessly through the entire region.

The whole campaign on the Niagara had been a series of blunders, and was most disastrous to the American cause.

The old town of Niagara, at the mouth of the river, is to-day an interesting and picturesque place to visit. Here the tourist takes the steamer for Toronto, and if he have an hour or two to wait, let him stroll about through the beautifully shaded streets, past the elegant hotels and private country seats, for the old town is a famous summer resort now, and is likely to be still more attractive, for a little Chautauqua is soon to spring up within stone-throw of the ruined breastworks of old Fort George.

From the round tower of Fort Mississaga, which commanded the harbor, one gets a superb view of the lake and of Fort Niagara, just over the border on the American side. Fort and lighthouse are in capital condition, and the sight of the flutter of the stars and stripes against the blue sky is very dear to the American who stands on British soil, and, thinking of all it has cost to preserve that flag, realizes that it is still there.

In 1814, the Secretary of War having persisted in his project to invade Canada, determined, as a first step, to take Kingston. In order to conceal this movement, and also that there might be no enemy left in the rear, Major-General Brown, of the American forces, commenced operations on the peninsula, between Lakes Erie and Ontario.

On the 2nd of July he left Buffalo, and captured Fort Erie, on the opposite side of the river. He then pursued his way down the river until he reached Chippewa Creek. He then fell back a little to Street’s Creek, and waited for the main body of the force, which arrived on the morning of the 5th.

General Scott’s camp was located on a little plain lying mid-way between these two creeks. In the afternoon he ordered out his brigade for a dress parade. Approaching the bridge he was met by General Brown, who informed him that a battle was imminent. The head of Scott’s column had scarcely reached the bridge when the British opened fire from the extensive forests that surrounded the creek. Riall, the British General, sneered contemptuously at the “Buffalo militia,” as he believed them when they first came in sight, but when he saw them cross the bridge steadily under fire, he discovered they were Regulars. General Peter B. Porter had command on Scott’s left, and his men fought well until charged by the bayonet, when they gave way. Major Jesup, however, covered[588] the exposed flank, and the fighting became hot and furious along the entire front. After a time the right wing of the British disengaged from the line and charged against Jesup. Scott was quick to observe this, and in his turn charged against the exposed flank. Simultaneously Leavenworth attacked the left wing of the British, and through the gap between these two attacking columns, Towson’s battery poured in its canister with speedy effect, and the British soon retreated in great confusion, and the Americans had won their only decisive victory on Niagara.

Chippewa is to-day a tumbledown, uninteresting spot, attractive only to the student of history. There are some beautiful private residences near the town, on the banks of the river, and just below the village the river breaks into the rapids. After the well fought battle of Chippewa, the invasion of Canada seemed more feasible. General Brown was very sanguine of success, providing he could secure Commodore Chauncey’s assistance, with his fleet. He wrote urgently to Chauncey, assuring him that the British force at Kingston was very light, and that between their two forces they could conquer Canada in two months, if they were active and vigilant. But those qualities Chauncey did not possess; besides, he was ill, and thought he had more important business on hand than to carry provisions for the troops, and therefore did nothing. Nearly opposite the American Fall a road runs back over the hill, past the Clifton House and the Canada Southern Railroad Depot. The tourist following this road, and turning to the left after passing the depot, will soon find himself in a beautiful little village. Cottages of quaint and old fashioned design, nearly covered with vines and roses, and narrow lanes in lieu of streets, are its distinguishing features. Up a hill you go past a brick church, and a graveyard, in which you may find many curious inscriptions. The top of the hill is reached. Look back down that pleasant street, where old trees stretch out their long arms to meet each other. See those comfortable happy homes on each side. Hear that group of children laugh at their play; and listen, from that little brick Methodist church, on a soft summer evening, come the solemn strains of an old time hymn. No more peaceful, pastoral scene in the world, and yet the spot on which we stand was the scene of frightful carnage, terrific struggle, horrible bloodshed; here was fought the famous battle of Lundy’s Lane. At noon of July 25, 1814, General Brown received intelligence at Chippewa, that General Drummond had reached Fort George the night previous, with reinforcements, with which he intended to capture the stores of the Americans at Fort Schlosser, which was located just above the rapids, on the American side. Scott—now a Brigadier-General—was ordered forward to divert the enemy from this project. He had advanced about two miles when he was confronted by the entire British force, drawn up in Lundy’s Lane. Scott engaged the right wing of the British, ordering Jesup to look after the left. These movements were successful, Jesup capturing many prisoners, among whom was General Riall. After the battle was well under way, General Brown arrived from Chippewa with reinforcements. The British held an eminence on which were planted seven guns. General Brown saw at once that unless this battery could be captured no impression could be made.

“Can you take that battery?” he asked Colonel James Miller.

“I’ll try, sir,” was the memorable answer of Miller—and he tried. It was now night, and the approach of Miller’s men was hidden by a high fence. The gunners held their lighted matches in their hands when Miller’s men thrust their muskets through the fence, shot down the men at the guns, rushed forward and captured the battery.

The British made two valiant attempts to retake the battery, but were not successful. Generals Brown, Scott, and Major Jesup were all wounded, and the command devolved upon the inefficient Ripley, who, after idly waiting half an hour, anticipating another attack, instead of following up the advantage already gained, withdrew from the field. The British returned, took possession of the field and the battery which Miller had captured. The American forces were obliged to beat a retreat to Chippewa for food and water, and the British claimed the victory as the last occupants of the field. The loss of men on both sides was about equal.

Drummond followed the Americans to Fort Erie, opposite Buffalo, and there ensued a regular siege until the 17th of September, when the Americans made a sudden sortie and destroyed the works of the enemy. This was accomplished only by terrific fighting on both sides, in which the Americans lost five hundred men, and the British nine hundred. Drummond now abandoned the siege, and in October the Americans destroyed Fort Erie, and returned to their own side of the river. Thus ended the campaign on the Niagara. It had been productive of no results save the digging of thousands of graves, and proving to the British that the raw Yankee troops were able to give the trained English soldiers some hard work.

Just above Goat Island, where the river breaks into rapids, on the American side, the tourist notices the ruins of Fort Schlosser, of which we have spoken before as containing stores and provisions on which General Drummond had designs. Later history has something to say of this fort. Here occurred a circumstance out of which grew results which for a time threatened a third war between England and the United States. In 1837, just after the close of the second Seminole war, a rebellion broke out in Canada. Great sympathy was felt on the American side, for the insurgents. Despite the fact that the United States made great efforts to preserve neutrality, a small American steamer, the “Caroline,” made regular trips across to Navy Island, carrying supplies to a party of five hundred insurgents, who were staying there. In December, one Captain Drew was sent out from Chippewa with a force to capture this steamer. He did not find her at Navy Island, as he expected, and so crossed to Grand Island, which was American territory, boarded her, killed twelve men on board, towed her out in the stream, set her on fire, and left her to drift down the river and go over the Falls.

The United States promptly demanded redress, but could obtain no satisfaction for three years. In 1840, one McLeod, who had boasted of his part in this affair, came over to the American side, where he was under indictment for murder. He was seized and held for trial.

The British government demanded his release on the ground that he had participated in an act of war, and therefore could not for that act be tried before a civil court. The President answered that as yet the United States had received no answer to the question whether the burning of the “Caroline” had been an authorized act of war. In all events the administration could not interfere with a state court, and prevent it from trying any one indicted within its limits. England threatened war unless McLeod was released; but the trial proceeded. The two countries would doubtless have been brought into conflict had not McLeod been acquitted. It was proved that he was asleep in Chippewa at the time the “Caroline” was burned, and that a vain desire for notoriety had caused him to inculpate himself. There was great excitement in 1841, over this trial, which was augmented by the indifferent attitude of acting President Tyler. A District Attorney of New York was allowed to act as McLeod’s counsel, and retain his office, thus presenting the astonishing spectacle of a government officer attempting to prove, in such a question as this, which was liable to result in war, his own government to be in the wrong.

Nothing now remains of Fort Schlosser but a tall, gaunt chimney, which has weathered for many long years the terrific winds which sweep down the river.

Throughout this fair and smiling region there are but few traces of these fierce battles.

[589]

No blackened farms and desolated villages; no rattle of musketry and roar of cannon; the sword is turned into plow-share and pruning hook; from the soil watered with the blood of heroes spring thrifty orchards and sweet flowers; in the place of fire from the blazing torch of red handed war rises the smoke of prosperous town and thriving hamlet; Canada and the United States stretching out friendly hands to each other; the Union Jack and the Stars and Stripes floating side by side; peace, plenty, and prosperity on both sides the broad river. Everything is changed save the great Falls themselves. Unceasingly they do their awful work; unceasingly their thunders sound; unceasingly their mists roll heavenward.

TWO FASHIONABLE POISONS.

BY M. P. REGNARD.

Some one said one day before Fontenelle, that coffee was a slow poison. “I can bear witness to that,” replied the witty academician, “for it will soon be fifty years since I began taking it every day.”

This, which was on the part of the cultivated scholar, a brilliant sally of wit, is, alas! the common reasoning of many people who, simply because danger does not immediately confront them, allow themselves to be slowly but surely drawn to the tomb, because, forsooth, the way, for the time being, is pleasant, or fashionable!

In the midst of us there are persons poisoning themselves to death. I refer to those addicted to the use of morphine. In England they have another class of these unfortunates, for whom the most adulterated liquors no longer suffice, and who drink ether; they are a sort of perfected inebriates, who by the scientific laws of progress succeed simple drunkards just as habitual morphine users follow the opium smokers of China. Our fathers in Asia who have already bequeathed to us many misfortunes, held in check until within recent years, among themselves, the singular taste which they have for opium. Let me tell you in a few words of the ancestors of morphine users of to-day, and you will better understand the history of the latter.

The mania for opium eating diminishes rather than increases among the Mussulmans. Zambaco, who for a long time lived in the Orient, gives the reason. The Turk seeks in opium only intoxication—a delicious sort of annihilation—which he finds to-day more readily in champagne or Bordeaux wine. These give him, in addition, the pleasures of taste. Then, too, he can indulge himself freely in them, and still hold to the letter of the Koran. In the time of Mahomet neither rum nor cognac were invented; it does not then forbid them. But that which is not forbidden is permitted, and so the Mussulman, who considers wine so impure that he will not touch it, even with his hands, will become beastly intoxicated upon brandy, and think that by this process he is not compromising his part in Paradise. But their religionists—and above all their medical men—do not reason thus. They still cling to the opium.

Its first effect upon the system is far from causing sleep. It is rather a sort of intellectual and physical excitant, which renders the Oriental (in his natural state sad and silent), turbulent, loquacious, excitable, and quarrelsome.

These Turks are not contented to take opium themselves, they give it also to their horses. “I have just,” says Burns, “traveled all night with a cavalier of this country. After a fatiguing ride of about thirty miles I was obliged to accept the proposition he made to rest for a few minutes. He employed this time in dividing with his exhausted horse a dose of opium of about two grammes. The effects were very soon evident upon both; the horse finished with ease a journey of forty miles, and the cavalier became more animated.”

In China they do not eat opium, they smoke it. There is an historical fact connected with them well known to all the world to which I would not now call attention were it not to show you to what extent a like calamity may go, and consequently with what the French people are threatened if the love of morphine continues to take among us the same intensity.

Hundreds of years ago opium was, in the Chinese empire, a great luxury, reserved for the mandarins, who did not keep secret at all their use of it, but who interdicted it to all persons under their jurisdiction. All the more did they consider it a great honor to their invited guests, and especially to strangers, to be asked to partake of it. Recently it has come into general use, and since 1840 its abuse has reached the last limits. There is for all this an economic reason which I shall not fear to call abominable. The Chinese received in payment for their products only gold and silver, in money or in ingots; the specie thus introduced into their country never left it, and it was a veritable drainage which on this account Europe and America underwent.

A neighboring nation of ours, and one whose Indian possessions furnish prodigious quantities of opium, forced China, in a celebrated treaty, to allow the entrance of this opium into her ports and to pay for it in ingots and not in merchandise; the empire was thus obliged to disgorge a part of its money held in reserve. You will have an idea of the importance of this operation when you know that to-day there enters annually into China 70,000 packing cases of opium from India, worth at least $558,000. So much poison forced by right of war upon a whole people!

The Chinese smoke opium from the age of twenty to twenty-five years. The immediate effect is a sort of dizzy sensation. The preoccupations of the mind disappear, as do also all ailments of the body. Then comes a noisy delirium, a kind of insanity, in which the subject is deeply agitated; he is apt to hurl down and break everything around him. Sometimes he rushes out of the house, attacks the first passer-by, and not infrequently in his frenzy has committed murder.

The opium smoker, as well as the eater, is obliged rapidly to increase the dose of his poison. At the end of six or eight months he must smoke a dozen pipes a day. His money is soon all spent; he is ruined in a year. He sells all that he possesses, and then he gambles. Writers agree in saying that the maximum of the life of a smoker is then five or six years.

In the face of such an evil as this the imperial government has tried to act on the defensive; it placed a heavy duty on the entrance of opium; but this system was not successful. And before this attempt it tried penal jurisprudence.

This is the decree which the Viceroy of Canton published in 1841:

“It is two years since the Emperor of the Celestial Empire forbade all his subjects to smoke opium. This delay of grace expires the twelfth day of the twelfth moon of this year. Then all those guilty of offense against this law will be put to death, their heads will be exposed in public, in order to frighten those who might be tempted to follow their example.” (Then follows this modification.) “I have reflected, however, that solitary confinement would be more efficacious than capital[590] punishment, in order to arrest such a dreadful misdemeanor. I declare then, that I am going to have built a special prison for opium smokers. There they will all, rich or poor, be shut in narrow cells, lighted by one window, with two boards serving as a bed and a seat. They will be given each day a ration of oil, of rice, and of vegetables. In case of a second offense they will be put to death.”

This legislation was not practicable. The punishment was out of proportion to the crime, and consequently inapplicable.

Besides, in looking around him the emperor found that his own wives smoked opium, and I would not guarantee that if he meant to live up to the letter of his law, he would not have to begin by committing suicide.

After this legislation they tried moralization and preaching. The misfortunes of the opium smoker were depicted in an infinite number of ways. All this propagandism had about as little success as societies against intemperance, and this state of affairs is existing to-day in the East.

There are not noticeably many opium eaters or smokers among the French. But every one knows that the people of the Orient have for their European brothers the morphine users. There is between the first and second the same difference that is found in everything pertaining to barbarous and to cultivated men. Civilization prescribes as to the manner of the poisoning.

While the Oriental eats or smokes simply the juice of the poppy almost as nature furnishes it, the European is more refined, and wishes only the active principles of opium. So he uses it prepared in such a way as to have lost almost entirely its disagreeable properties.

How does one become a morphine user when he is a Frenchman, an inhabitant of Paris, and when there is not a temptation to it from the fact of a general habit, or the existence of special establishments? This can be accounted for by two methods. The most common is some painful affliction from which one is suffering, it may be neuralgia, acute dyspepsia, or violent headaches. The physician, often at the end of his resources, prescribes injecting a little morphine under the skin. The effect is marvelous; the pain ceases instantly, but temporarily. The next day it returns with new force. The afflicted patient remembers the success of yesterday, and insists upon his anodyne. It seems necessary to give it, and so it goes on for several days. Soon the nature of the drug manifests itself: no longer will one injection a day answer; there must be two, then three, later four, and so on, always increasing, until it reaches formidable quantities. Meantime, the original trouble may have entirely disappeared, but the patient does not cease to use the remedy. The first time that the sick one insists upon having the treatment the doctor is called to perform the operation. But soon, as it becomes necessary to repeat the process oftener, making it expensive, it is entrusted to the nurse or to the family, and from that day the patient is lost; for how can the supplications of a suffering person whom one loves be resisted? Then on a day the sick one practices on himself—and from that on, without any control, with the avidity of passion, he uses the drug in the quantities of which I have told you.

This is one way in which many victims fall into this sad habit. There is another. The victims of the second method are those who seek in exciting tonics the sensations which their weakened nerves and their surfeited imagination can no longer afford them. These are the proselytes of a veritable association, and they, in their turn, soon become missionaries in the same cause. It is a habit which the vicious have of wishing to make others like themselves. The fable of the fox which had its tail cut off is not a fable of yesterday. Two friends meet; one of them complains of slight annoyances; dullness, ennui; he no longer enjoys anything; the world, the races, the theater, do not procure for him distraction; he is bored to death. His friend admits that he also has suffered in the same way, but that he had recourse to morphine, of which some one had told him, and that he found in it a perfect cure. And thus by such conversations there is formed, as it were, a new class; they are the volunteers in this unhappy army.

One can but remark, that luxury, which tends to introduce itself everywhere, has already invaded the domain of morphine. The little syringe of Pravas, which permits of the injection of the poison under the skin, and the consequent avoidance of the bitter taste and the nausea which would be occasioned by eating morphine, has received ingenious and artistic modifications. It was necessary to render it easy to carry, and at the same time to make it deceptive to the eye. I visited a surgical instrument maker at Paris, and he placed at my disposal for inspection his whole line of morphine instruments, those which the taste, the luxury, or the imagination of his clients had caused him to fabricate.

There was first the syringe, containing a centigram of morphine, such as the physicians employ. It was not delicate enough, was difficult to handle and difficult to conceal; it is used now only by those who no longer care to conceal their vice—who feel no shame in regard to it. Then there was one adroitly concealed in a match box. At one side was a little bottle containing a dose of powder necessary for a half day. There was, too, a false cigar holder, containing all that was necessary for injecting the poison. But most remarkable of all was a long, sheath-like instrument. It is somewhat inconvenient in the midst of company to put the morphine into the syringe before making a puncture. This sheath, filled beforehand, can be carried in the pocket; the puncture can be made, and to inject the drug it is only necessary to move the piston in a certain direction; in the evening the sheath will be found empty. There were little gold syringes contained in smelling bottles; a little silver sheath which one would take for an embroidery stiletto; open it; it contains an adorable little syringe of gold and a bottle of the poison.

Among morphine users in fashionable life they make gifts according to their taste, and there are manufactured syringes and bottles enameled, engraved, and emblematic—in every conceivable device.

Do men more often become subject to this vice than women? According to the printed statistics, yes. Out of every one hundred who used the drug there are counted only twenty-five women. But practicing physicians say that the women are the more numerous victims. They are more artful, and try to keep the habit concealed; they do not consult the physicians regarding it, and so are not counted in the statistical returns.

Is it then so very agreeable to live under the influence of this poison, since so many people expose themselves, for its sake, to such grave perils? To this I reply, no, not at the beginning. It is with this vice as with others, the beginning is hard. The first injections are not enjoyable—the puncture is painful, and sometimes nausea follows. But the habit is easily and quickly formed, and the disagreeable effects disappear. The introduction of the morphine produces almost immediately a sort of general vagueness, an annihilation of being which causes to disappear all external realities and replaces them by a sort of happy reverie; and at the same time the mind seems more alert, more active. Physical and moral grievances disappear, all troubles are forgotten for the time being. “You know,” says Mr. Ball, “the famous soliloquy of Hamlet, and the passage where the Prince cries out that without the fear of the unknown, no one would hesitate to escape by means of a sharp point from the evils of life which he suffers, in order to enter into repose. Ah well! this sharp point of which Shakspere speaks—this liberating needle—we possess; it is the syringe of Pravas. By one plunge a person can efface all sufferings of mind and of body; the injustice of men and of fortune; and understand from this time on, the irresistible empire of this marvelous poison.”

[591]

The habit of taking ether is induced by the same causes that lead to the use of morphine. The danger, however, is not so great, and the habit can more easily be broken up. At the end of the inhalation one experiences a little dizziness that is not at all disagreeable; the sight becomes a little blurred, and the ears ring; the mental conceptions become gay, charming; hallucinations are developed, generally very pleasing. It is not necessary to increase the dose, for one would then reach a state of excitement, or be thrown into a sound sleep, such as physicians produce. Those who use it know this well, and moderate the dose, in order to make the pleasure of long duration. After the inhalation the subject returns almost immediately to his natural state. There is a little heaviness in the head and a dullness of the mind. Morphine users can secretly indulge in their habit, but ether emits a penetrating odor. In London, where it is more frequently practiced, the keepers of public squares and large parks often find in the more retired places empty bottles labeled “Sulphuric Ether.” These have been thrown down by those who have left their homes in order to give themselves up in the open air to their favorite passion.

These victims commence by breathing ether. Then they drink a few drops—and after a while larger quantities. This burning liquid soon becomes a necessity; and some even go so far as to drink chloroform—a veritable caustic.

Can anything be done for these unfortunate people? Yes, certainly—but only on one condition—that they wish to be cured. The best method is to separate, instantly, entirely, the patient from his family; to place him in an establishment where his movements can be watched, where he can be debarred, suddenly or gradually, as shall be judged best, from the poison.

The Americans—a practical people—have already built asylums for the treatment of morphine users. The Germans have recently finished two, one at Marienberg, the other at Schönberg.

But unfortunately, the French law does not permit us to do this. We can place in hospitals only those poison users who have become maniacs or idiots.

If the French are to be saved from this rapidly increasing evil, it is evidently necessary to prevent its beginnings. In order to do this, the sick must be kept from procuring it. Its sale must be regulated so that it will be impossible to get it in any quantity, or to use the same prescription twice. The emperor of Germany, upon the proposition of Prince Bismarck, has issued a decree to this effect. Under such a regulation the law for the physician would be never to prescribe the use of these drugs save in cases of absolute necessity.

The reading of medical books by the people is generally pernicious. I would, however, permit them to read the recent accounts of the effects of these drugs. If they are of comparatively late origin, these two fashionable poisons have already destroyed more victims than in a whole century has all the poison used by assassins.—An Abridged Translation for “The Chautauquan” from the “Révue Scientifique.”

OUR C. L. S. C. COLUMN.

BY CHANCELLOR J. H. VINCENT, D.D.

For the past year I have given in The Chautauquan a series of articles on the interior significance and higher aims of the Chautauqua movement, instead of the answers to questions which filled the C. L. S. C. column in former years. The closing article of this year must be made up of answers to questions which are of general interest.

1. A correspondent inquires “whether Alfred Ayres, author of the ‘Orthoepist,’ and editor of the English Grammar of William Corbett, is a recognized standard authority in pronunciation, and whether he should be preferred to Webster or Worcester.” To this I can only reply that I do not so understand Mr. Ayres’s claim or position in the field of letters. He certainly is not accepted as are Webster and Worcester; and the chief advantage of his little volumes is in showing what one man who has given much attention to the subject of pronunciation thinks on the subject. That is all.

2. “How can a knowledge of Greek, Roman, or any other history be of any benefit to me? I prefer to study the works of God, and in chemistry and other departments of science to trace the signs of his wisdom.”

Answer: It is important to study God’s great gifts to the race in the great characters of history and literature. The genius of Homer is as much a wonder as is any fact in physical science. Acquaintance with the vivacity, enterprise and energy of the Greek character is as valuable to people who now live in the world as is a knowledge of the physical constitution, shape, habits of life, and movements of the colossal creatures reported by geology as having occupied this planet ages on ages ago. No education is complete that has not to some extent been influenced by the spirit of the old Greek culture. The whole history of that people shows the impotence of mere culture without moral character, and we may trace through the ages of Greek history the evidences of divine wisdom and justice. By all means let us study natural science, but let us not abandon history. Whatever pertains to man in any age of the world should possess peculiar interest to us.

3. “People in our neighborhood often say to me: ‘Why study those books? You will not live to finish the course; and if you do, what good will it do you or your children?’”

Answer: Ignorant people often ask the question, “Of what use is education, beyond a small amount of reading, writing and arithmetic? Why should people who have to work in kitchens and fields study the stars? Why should men who neither care to act on the stage, or to write for the press, give much attention to William Shakspere?” Whatever our business may be, we need to read general literature because we are members of society, and owe something as rational beings to society. Parents should keep in sympathy with their children, whose world of knowledge must of necessity in this age grow wider and richer all the time. We are, moreover, members of this universe, and God is our Father. We have a right as his children to know something about his works and ways and wisdom. Life is a wearisome thing to people who are ignorant. There is sustaining power in the large thoughts which a true culture brings. If one expects to live forever with God, he should cultivate noble and worthy character on this side the grave, and such nobility is increased and such holiness promoted by a wide range of reading and study with worthy motive.

4. I am happy to announce that the “Chautauqua Press” has been fully organized. Under its direction some of the books of the C. L. S. C. will be published, and a series of standard books will be issued at once for the formation of home libraries; books adapted to the special courses and bearing also upon the Required Readings.

The first series of three or four volumes will be ready by August 1st, and will supplement the regular work of the coming C. L. S. C. year. While all the classes are reading Roman History, Latin Literature, Italian Biography, and Italian Art, our “Chautauqua Library, … Garnet Series,” will provide for those who wish to read more than the required books, and for those who, as graduates, wish to win seals, the following admirable volumes:

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“Readings from Macaulay. Italy. With an Introduction by Donald G. Mitchell (Ik Marvel).”

“Readings from Ruskin. Italy. With an Introduction by H. A. Beers, Professor of English Literature in Yale College.”

“Art and the Cultivation of Taste, by Lucy Crane, with an Introduction by Charles S. Whiting, of the Springfield (Mass.) Republican.”

[The fourth volume of the first series will soon be announced.]

This series of four volumes will constitute a special course, for the reading of which the Garnet Seal (a new one) will be given to all graduates, and may be won by those undergraduates who are able to do more than the Required Reading for each year.

The Chautauqua Press will soon have on hand a rich library of cheap but handsomely printed and bound volumes with which every Chautauquan will desire to decorate and enrich “The Chautauqua Corner.”

Now we are on the eve of another summer of rest, of convocation, of Assembly reunions. From these retreats comes much of inspiration which keeps the Chautauqua movement in operation during the remainder of the year. Let me urge all members who can possibly do so to attend the nearest Assembly. Go to the Round-Table. Record your name on the list kept by the local secretary. Show your colors, and thus lend your influence to the Circle.

In behalf of the administration, the president, the counselors, the secretaries, I extend to all members of the Circle a hearty salutation; and to all of you who read these lines who have for any reason grown remiss or apathetic in C. L. S. C. service, I give an earnest invitation to come back, resume your readings, join the class of ’89, and make sure of a successful four years’ course.

You will join me, I am sure, in one universal Chautauqua salute to the honored editor of The Chautauquan and his competent associates and contributors as our tribute to the ability with which our monthly has been conducted.

And now, as we “study the word and the works of God,” may our Heavenly Father be “in the midst,” and “may we never be discouraged” in pursuing the high and beautiful ideal of the C. L. S. C.: The attainment of symmetrical and practical culture which will fit us the better to serve our fellows upon the earth, and to enjoy the blessings promised by our Father in the heavens!

Plainfield, N. J., May 21, 1885.

GLIMPSES OF THE CHAUTAUQUA PROGRAM.

A part of our creed of late has come to be that we need change in summer. If our homes are in cities, we need it because we can not have there the requisites of good health—fresh air, pure water, quiet; if we live in the country, we want and need a change which will give us social advantages; if we are teachers or students, we want opportunities to see, to get new ideas, to observe new people and their customs. This theory of summer living makes the demand for summer resorts. It is rare, however, that any place offers with any degree of completeness health, society and opportunities. It is claimed for Chautauqua that all three may be found there; that it is, in short, an ideal summer resort, open to all classes of people. The outlook for Chautauqua in 1885 confirms this claim, and gives to its admirers most satisfactory glimpses of what is in store for them during the coming season.

Chautauqua is fortunate in having had candid, disinterested men examine its condition and management, and pronounce their verdict as to its healthfulness. One of the most critical examiners of public places in America, Hon. B. G. Northrup, made his visit to Chautauqua last summer a kind of inspection tour. He pried into every corner and cranny, and publicly denounced every abuse he found. With “courage indomitable,” the Chautauqua “powers that be” attacked the enemy, and “they are ours.” This summer there is no pestilential spot, not one vault nor cess-pool nor wet spot to poison the water and breed disease. The determination of the management to have perfect sanitary arrangement at any cost—even if all other improvements are abandoned—is producing a condition unparalleled. This result, and the means taken for its accomplishment, are worthy of close study by every visitor at Chautauqua, particularly by those who are property owners, or are interested in the government of towns.

Chautauqua is a safe resting place. But it is more. It is preëminently a social place. Its social life is as pure and wholesome and natural as the air and water. Simple, unaffected manners, free, kindly intercourse, characterize the daily life of the people. “How very democratic you are here,” said a visitor last year, “and I don’t see a particle of snobbishness.” And it is true. The simple reason, perhaps, is that Chautauqua brings out of every one the best in them. People literally live too high there for snobbishness. They can run out in the morning for their milk or bread or steak; they can carry their bundles or do their own washing, and the high, clear, mental atmosphere of the place forbids them minding who sees them at their duties, forbids any one who sees them feeling that the work is menial. This mental and social air is indeed one of the most exhilarating things about the place. You do live socially above your ordinary level—live so because it is “in the air.” You can not help it.

How wonderfully good health and good company contribute to making a good working place. Above all things else Chautauqua is that. Its pure air stirs your blood until you feel like working; its social life stimulates you; its opportunities are a constant temptation. Of course Chautauqua temptations begin with the platform. There are at least two features of the program for the platform of 1885 which deserve special attention. Of these the first is—it is timely. The questions which are interesting society are the questions it discusses. Note what a prominent place “Mormonism” holds. Miss Kate Field makes it the subject of two lectures: “The Mormon Creed” and the “Political and Social Crimes of Utah,” and Mr. W. L. Marshall takes up “Utah and the Mormon Question” in a third lecture. Temperance, our knottiest social problem, is elucidated by Miss Frances Willard in the “Evolution in the Temperance Reform,” by Mrs. Ellen Foster, by Hon. G. W. Bain, by a National Temperance Society Day, by temperance bands, by conventions, and by every attraction which Chancellor Vincent can devise and valiant Chautauqua temperance workers carry out. Missions, too, have a brave array of talent to plead their claim. The first four days of August are mission days, on which are discussed means of increasing interest and improving methods of evangelizing both foreign and home heathens, of raising funds, and of securing workers. One of the leading mission workers of 1885 will be the Rev. Wm. F. Johnson, of Allahabad, India. Mr. Johnson has been in the field nearly twenty years. He will fill the place this summer that Ram Chandra Bose and the Rev. Mr. Osborne filled in the missionary conferences of last year.

A second characteristic is—the program is practical. Every day is full of hints; every exercise is suggestive. As an illustration, no profession is attracting so much attention to-day as is journalism; a successful journalist is to discuss it. Such a subject will be of practical benefit to numbers of young men and women who will be listeners to Mr. Carroll. Practical Christian ethics and Christian work form prominent subjects; as, for example, the three days’ examination of “Parish Work in Cities,” by Edward Everett Hale, and the interesting meetings[593] of the Society of Christian Ethics. The tours abroad, while they are so bright and entertaining, are brimful of suggestions. This summer is to be unusually rich, the time being given largely to Italy. One pleasing variety will be a tour around the world with Philip Phillips.

The special features of the summer will be strong. The Teachers’ Retreat, which begins its sessions in July, is arranged to do for teachers one peculiarly necessary work, to show them how to use the best methods, to lessen the friction which is incident to all school work. It is ably manned to produce this result, Prof. J. W. Dickinson, of the State Board of Education of Massachusetts, being at the head of the department of Pedagogy, and nearly a score of successful specialists assisting in expositions of their peculiar methods. The terms for the C. T. R. are very low.

Persons holding the $5 ticket of the Chautauqua Teachers’ Retreat will be entitled to the following privileges: All general exercises in the Amphitheater, including lectures, concerts, recitals, and entertainments, during the sessions of the Retreat; fourteen lessons in Pedagogy; fourteen lessons in Practical Application of Pedagogical Science; four Tourists’ Conferences; two Expositions of Method in Chemistry; one Exposition of Method in Penmanship; two Expositions of Method in Elocution; one Exposition of Method in Phonography; one Exposition of Method in Stenographic Reporting; two admissions to each of the several classes in the Schools of Language; two lectures on School Methods by Prof. Edw. E. Smith, Superintendent of Schools, Syracuse, N. Y.; ten Half-hour Drills in School Calisthenics. Special classes are arranged as well for those who can find time to take in more than the full program, or who desire special instructions.

Each summer, since the idea of a summer school was conceived, there has been a steady growth in the opportunities given to students. The coming season keeps up the record for improvement. The C. S. L. stands preëminent among Chautauqua institutions. In its departments of Greek, Latin, Hebrew, English, French, German and Spanish, the practical benefit to be derived in six weeks is altogether inconceivable to those persons who are unacquainted with the teachers directing the studies, and with the methods used. To two or three features we would call particular attention—features which serve merely as samples of work being done daily in all classes. In the Anglo-Saxon room there is a class which studies “Hamlet” for four weeks, a series of lessons rich in illustrations and full of facts. A particular beauty of this class is the free discussion and analysis of character which Professor M’Clintock encourages.

Professors Worman and Lalande have many novel devices for fascinating their students. As interesting study as there was at Chautauqua last summer was the children’s hour in German, conducted by Professor Worman; as a lesson to teachers it was unsurpassed, as a drill for children it would teach them German if anything would. As for the French, the weekly lectures, the French receptions, and now this year, the “French table” which Professor Lalande has arranged for, are prominent features.

Not content with reading Latin, Professor Shumway proposes that his students talk it. For many students at Chautauqua last summer a tree became arbor, the forest silva, the shade umbra, the dead alive—a result, by the way, that very often is accomplished at Chautauqua. The successful introduction of a School of Microscopy was accomplished in 1884; 1885 will see the work enlarged. This department is under the direction of an able teacher, Professor Hall. His outfit for observation, and for preparing and mounting objects is most complete.

It is said that when the Egyptians moved the huge rocks which form the pyramids, musicians were stationed among the workmen, and every motion was made in time to music. Chancellor Vincent seems to have profited by this suggestion in preparing the Chautauqua program for 1885, for it is all set to music of the rarest kind. To begin with, the great organ is handled by a skillful master, Mr. I. V. Flagler. His series of recitals contain selections from the greatest masters. The chorus will be led by our old favorites, Professors Case and Sherwin. The Fisk Jubilees, the Meigs-Underhill Combination, a new quartette—the Schubert, of Chicago, vocalists with rare voices, and with a splendid repertoire—and Miss Dora Henninges, of Louisville, a superb mezzo-soprano, will complete the musical program for 1885.

These are but hints of what the six weeks’ session holds in store for visitors to Chautauqua this season. The entire program, with all its specialties, has been prepared with consummate care and with close regard for popular needs. The management has striven honestly to make Chautauqua a perfectly healthy place, with abundant social life, and with opportunities suited to the needs of all classes of people. The verdict of its thousands of visitors is that in the past they have succeeded. The outlook for 1885 declares that this year will be still more abundantly successful.

LOCAL CIRCLES.

C. L. S. C. MOTTOES.

“We Study the Word and the Works of God.”—“Let us keep our Heavenly Father in the Midst.”—“Never be Discouraged.”

C. L. S. C. MEMORIAL DAYS.

1. Opening Day—October 1.

2. Bryant Day—November 3.

3. Special Sunday—November, second Sunday.

4. Milton Day—December 9.

5. College Day—January, last Thursday.

6. Special Sunday—February, second Sunday.

7. Founder’s Day—February 23.

8. Longfellow Day—February 27.

9. Shakspere Day—April 23.

10. Addison Day—May 1.

11. Special Sunday—May, second Sunday.

12. Special Sunday—July, second Sunday.

13. Inauguration Day—August, first Saturday after first Tuesday; anniversary of C. L. S. C. at Chautauqua.

14. St. Paul’s Day—August, second Saturday after first Tuesday; anniversary of the dedication of St. Paul’s Grove at Chautauqua.

15. Commencement Day—August, third Tuesday.

16. Garfield Day—September 19.

The present number closes Volume V. of The Chautauquan and interrupts for a time the pleasant monthly visits with Local Circles. A review of the year’s work must be satisfactory to all. It has been a progressive year for the circles; few have fallen out of line; numbers of new organizations have been formed; almost all have increased their membership; the circle work has been done more thoroughly than ever before; new methods have sparkled on every page of reports; the social life has been quickened and intensified; the circle evening has become the most important evening of the week; it has been made the occasion of practical discussions and of intelligent conversation; a stronger feeling of union exists;[594] the local circle has become a permanent institution. There is much encouragement in the review, but there is much for each circle to learn in a study of the reports of the past year.

The present issue of The Chautauquan will contain all the reports received up to the date of going to press; those received after that date will necessarily be held over for the October issue.

Very interesting and encouraging reports have been received from Halifax, Nova Scotia, where the local circles are prospering, and much earnest work has been done. While their routine work and the required course of reading and study are pursued by the several circles separately, their occasional reunions are found profitable, and furnish much real enjoyment for the members. One such was held on Longfellow day at Dartmouth, across the harbor, which proved intensely interesting to an expectant audience. Thorough preparation was made for this meeting, and the whole arrangement was admirable. On Shakspere day an equally excellent program celebrated the day. The programs for both were highly original. The annual conversazione of the “Central” circle, Toronto, was held on May 19th. The novel little arrangement for a program—three ribbon-tied circles—looks most inviting. A half hour of orchestra music preceded the address and concert, after which were stereopticon views and a promenade. The guests were entertained at the Normal School building, where the museum and picture galleries were thrown open to them.

Among the Maine circles is a goodly one at Rockport, composed at its beginning in 1882 of twenty-one ladies. They have clung together through separation in a way quite remarkable. One of their number spent last year at sea, but took her books along, and had her Chautauquan sent to meet her at various points. Another friend who has been around the world during the past year missed her books at Antwerp, but writes from San Francisco that she is ready to make up the year’s work. The Rockport circle has the peculiar honor of having for its president a lady over seventy years of age.——“Mountain Echoes” have reached us from Bridgeton—nineteen of them. This circle was formed in 1883, and for a year met monthly; the success was so great that they have doubled their number of meetings. A sufficient proof of their statement that “good work is being done.”——Fifteen members of a circle at Bangor write us that they have enthusiasm quite sufficient for a class much larger. It is the steady variety, too, we fancy, for since 1881 they have met, with few exceptions, every Monday night from October to July. The studying is done on this evening, and time has been faithfully used, for they have succeeded in reviewing several books. A talented young physician in their midst has favored them this winter with lectures on Animal and Vegetable Biology, with microscopic illustrations.——A spirited circle, the “Whittier,” of twenty-five members, is working at North Berwick. Debates are frequent features of their programs, and they have adopted the sensible habit of choosing timely questions. Shakspere day was observed by a reading of the “Merchant of Venice,” the characters being assigned by a committee. At North Berwick the circle is fortunate in having members of different denominations who mingle in perfect cordiality. The result of their work together has been, they write, “an improvement of mind and broadening of ideas.”

A pleasant gathering of C. L. S. C. folks has been carrying on local circle work since October last at Meredith Village, New Hampshire. Some fifteen members are in the company. A gentleman interested in the work kindly furnishes them a room, lighted, warmed, and furnished. The memorial days are held in honor, and recently they have had “an extra” in a talk on chemistry from a teacher of the town.

Vermont is represented this month in a lively letter from Montpelier: “Our circle is not dumb, as might be inferred from our silence, neither are we deaf to the appeals for reports from local circles. The trouble is this: Though an organization of about twenty members since October last, we have until this month been nameless. One name after another was suggested until ‘The Idea Hunters’ was proposed, and met with general favor. I think our motto should be, ‘Hunt until you find,’ for we are constantly hunting in reference books for settlements to the many questions proposed. We are learning, of course, and getting no little amusement out of our researches as well.”

From the “Chautauqua Quintette,” of Chelsea, Mass., we have this cheery report: “We are a little company of five ladies, all intensely interested in the C. L. S. C. work. We derive great benefit from our work, and some of our programs would be creditable to a larger organization.”——A slightly discouraged circle, finding it “hard to exist,” is the “Thaxter,” of Attleboro. The small membership troubles them. It should not, it seems to us, especially since they have five members who write “fine essays.” We surmise that if the “Thaxter” has five good essay writers it is better off than many a large circle, and from the program of their Longfellow entertainment it is evident that some one of their number knows how to manage such things. Cheer up, friends.——A really joyous letter comes from Melrose, where the secretary of the “Alpha” has been delaying her report because the new members would not cease coming in, and she wanted to get them all. She writes: “Every member is enthusiastic, and I believe that excellent work is being done. This is my last year—that is to say the last of my first four years’ course. Please accept the most cordial greetings of our circle; we hope to send annual greetings for many years to come.”——A dainty hand-painted souvenir of the Shakspere evening of the “Alpha,” at Uxbridge, accompanies their report of good, strong work. The circle is small, but, says one of their number, “Chautauqua means a good deal with us.” The “Alphas” are to be congratulated on the success of the memorial exercises they have held this year.——Twenty-eight “Pilgrims,” of Dorchester, with their pastor as leader, are pursuing their course up the hill of knowledge courageously. Their meetings are well attended and interesting. Their verdict is: “We certainly feel that our circle has been a great benefit to us all the year, though it has been our first attempt at such work. We have no reason to regret starting, and look to next year for greater results.”——At Lynn the “Raymond” circle carried out a very taking list of exercises in celebration of April 23d. It was the first entertainment of the kind the circle has ever given, and certainly they ought to be pleased with their success. Their program has that unusual merit, originality.——The “Vincent” circle, of Needham, was organized early in the fall, and has been flourishing since. Nearly forty members are in the class, and next year additions are expected. The “Vincent” is going to do what we wish every circle in existence would do, have a representative at their nearest Assembly—if you can not go to Chautauqua. The ideas and stimulus gained would be worth many times the cost and fatigue.——A suggestion comes from “Clark” circle, of Jamaica Plain, that deserves a comment. It is that The Chautauquan print more of the programs which it reports. Did we not furnish at least four programs each month for the use of circles we should certainly do this. As it is, we prefer to take the many good suggestions which we get from the programs sent us, and use them in our monthly programs. We do this because the programs sent us can not be printed until so long after the performance has taken place that they are of no practical use to circles; by readapting them we can give them to circles in a way in which they will be of use. The “Clark” itself has sent us a program that deserves reprinting, only of what practical good would be a March program in The Chautauquan for July?——“Although but a very small part of the great Chautauqua army, we have caught something of its spirit, and wish it ever increasing success.” So writes the secretary of[595] the correspondence circle of “Earnest Workers,” of which Alice C. Jennings, of Auburndale, is president. The circle has a thorough and systematic plan of work. Frequent letters from the president offer counsel and hints. At each monthly meeting memoranda from the students are read. These memoranda contain answers to a list of printed questions, such as: “What books have you read in connection with the C. L. S. C.? What three subjects in them have most interested you? Have you met with any difficulties, and if so, what?” etc. The whole plan of their work is admirable——The “Acadia” circle of Franklin, Mass., was organized in 1882. It has now sixty members. The president, although pastor of a large church, has been absent but five times since the circle’s organization. One of their great helps has been the pronouncing matches on Greek names and common English words. On Shakspere day the circle had the pleasure of listening to a lecture from Dr. R. R. Meredith, on “Leisure Hours.”

From Woodbury, Conn., comes a plea: “Pray receive into your host of local circles the ‘Lone Star,’ for we are alone. There were others with us who are not faded, but gone.” Marriage and going west has robbed the circle of its members, until but one is left to keep the fire burning on the shrine. We are glad to find a corner for that one here—certainly in these columns there is plenty of company and no need to grow lonely.——The “Newfield” circle of West Stratford is still “marching on.” On Shakspere day the circle read “Merchant of Venice” and “Julius Cæsar” with hearty appreciation, closing their celebration with a C. L. S. C. experience meeting. Many were the stories told of what Chautauqua had done for them.——Mansfield Center, a rural village in a dear old fashioned Connecticut street, is the home of a circle of eleven members. It was not begun until January last, but has shown its colors by having quite caught up. Two of the professors of the neighboring Agricultural College have given them very interesting lectures, and on Longfellow and Shakspere days recitations and music furnished pleasing entertainments.

A report of a successful first year comes from Auburn, Rhode Island, where the “Clio,” of fourteen members, was formed in October last. The new circles are all, like the “Clio,” promising to start next fall with fresh vigor.——Our thanks are due the “Esmeralda Bachelor” circle for the program of the first memorial services under the auspices of the Rhode Island Chautauqua Union. Great credit is due to Prof. John H. Appleton, the president of the Union, for his efforts to make the occasion a success.——The Sentinel Advertiser, of Hope Valley, devoted almost a column to a Shakspere evening, at which the “Aryans” of that town entertained the “Pawcatuck” circle of Carolina. Some twenty-six of the guest circle were present and were greeted with elegant hospitality by the home circle.

They are always doing something new at Ocean Grove, New York. The last has been a Tree Planting Day. On April 15 the C. L. S. C. planted a beautiful maple for each class respectively of ’85, ’86, ’87, and ’88. Representatives of each class were present, the largest number, of course, being for 1888. There was a short address by Dr. Stokes, prayer by the Rev. A. E. Ballard, and an appropriate song for each tree set out in Bishops’ Grove. In the evening a “service extraordinary” was held; trees and tree planting were the topics of talks, of songs, reading and reminiscences.——The Palmyra C. L. S. C. has enjoyed two evenings in chemistry recently, Prof. J. C. Norris, of Walworth Academy, kindly explaining dark points to them, and performing many fine experiments. The circle is very warm in its praise of the lecture and lecturer.——A Chautauqua circle consisting of fifteen members was organized at Union Springs in January of this year. The members make their lessons interesting and profitable with music, questions, and readings.——The “Philomathean,” of Lancaster, has a capital way of working in its inexperienced members. “Questions, criticisms, and commendations are interspersed through the whole evening. We aim to draw out the silent ones, to make all interested and feel themselves responsible; try to have every one feel that he must take every appointment, and allow no one to escape his turn at getting up question lists and easy work, and so seek to train them for the more difficult work.” This circle is not yet a year old, and numbers fifteen members.——We are happy to introduce the first C. L. S. C. inventors. The “Unique” circle, of Lockport, claim that honor. Their invention is a game made up from the questions and answers in The Chautauquan, and is intended to form a comprehensive review of the year’s work. “The Unique” is the title of it. Would it not be generous in the Lockport circle to share their discovery with the rest of us?——The “Argonaut” circle, of Buffalo, entertained a large number of invited friends at a special meeting held in April. The affair was a decided success. The “Argonauts” deserve special credit for the efforts that they are making to awaken interest in the affairs of the C. L. S. C. by extra meetings.——At Yonkers there is a circle now in its third year which has never reported to The Chautauquan before. In all it numbers twenty. Their work during the past three years of their existence has been in regular programs of essays, readings, and questions and answers, with an occasional variation to suit necessity. This year they held a very successful memorial service in honor of Longfellow’s day, and more recently have had a valuable lecture, with experiments, on chemistry.——Fourteen persons are reading the Bryant course in connection with The Chautauquan, at Munnsville. The circle did not undertake work until January, so adopted a short course for the rest of this year rather than try the regular course. We hope to find them at work on the regular course next fall, with their hopes of a larger membership gratified.

“Our Junto” is a circle within a circle. Five young men of the “Broadway” circle, of Camden, New Jersey, form it. Their program for the spring (of which they ought to be very proud) is a little book rather than a single page, containing the work laid out for the “Juntonians.” The plan is admirable. Each member has something to do at every meeting, and he knows what it is to be so long beforehand that he has ample opportunity to gather material. All circles will find it to their advantage to give attention to “Our Junto’s” plan.——Last October a few of the many students in the C. L. S. C. in Newark, organized a local circle. By the perseverance of these few others have been persuaded to join until the circle numbers about twenty. They have taken the name “Arcadia.” Memorial days in particular find pleasant observance. The last celebration, Longfellow day, was especially interesting. The chemistry is furnishing an excellent opportunity for experiments, which the “Arcadia” is fortunate enough to have a chance to carry on in an academy laboratory.——For the sake of northern New Jersey, which they are sorry not to see often reported in The Chautauquan, the members of the “Hawthorne,” of Hackettstown, a circle of five members, formed in April last, has sent us thus promptly its report. The “Hawthorne” plunged in medias res and celebrated the Shakspere memorial almost as soon as its organization was complete. Such a vigorous start promises well for their progress next year.——The “Round Table” circle of Jersey City is a band of twenty enthusiastic workers. A great deal of genuine hard work has been done by them the past year. The memorial days are celebrated, and every incentive used to foster the true Chautauqua spirit. Experiments have recently been given the class at the high school under the direction of the teacher of science.——The “Ionic,” organized in Dover, in January last, grows in interest with each meeting. There are nine members, whose happy experience thus far has been never to be discouraged. But why should they be? “Each member does his part.”

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The “Kensington,” of Philadelphia, is a circle of eleven members who are much in love with their readings. Such a success has their circle become that the members are willing to sacrifice other things to be present, and the president writes that he has received great benefit in going over again the fields of study that he harvested years ago.——A letter from the secretary of the “Pleiades,” of Philadelphia, says: “‘Pleiades’ is now nearly two years old. We began the present school year by increasing our membership from nine to eighteen. We took the advice given in The Chautauquan on simplicity of government, adopting such rules only as would systematize matters, and having as little formality as possible. It is a success. The meetings are so profitable that we think of continuing them all summer. Two of our members have taken college courses in chemistry, and they have been giving us some practical experiments in this delightful study. Greetings to our sister circles, and praises to our alma mater.”——The “Emanon” circle, of West Philadelphia, has sustained a sad loss in the death of Mr. John S. Rodgers, to whom the circle ascribes its success. He had been the instructor of the class for a long enough time for its members to appreciate his worth and sincerely mourn his death.——A similar sorrow has come to the circle of West Bellevue, where Mrs. Dr. W. G. Humber, a loyal member of the C. L. S. C., died on the morning of May 3d.——The Chautauquans of Pittsburgh make more of Special Sunday than any other circles that we know of. Our last reminder of this is a tiny vest-pocket program of the exercises carried out by the “Duquesne” and “Mount Washington” circles on the second Sabbath in May.——The circle at Uniondale writes us that it has chosen for its name “Meredith,” in honor of Samuel Meredith, first Treasurer of the United States, and for their motto they have selected “Spare minutes are the gold dust of time.”——What better proof of the efficiency of the course than this testimony from the “Tennyson” circle of thirty members, at Rochester, Pa.: “We think generally that our most pleasant evenings are spent at our circle. One thing that deserves to be especially noted is that light reading among us is being superseded by solid study and the reading of standard authors.”——A circle of ’88s, at Allegheny City, bears the popular name of “Wallace Bruce.” Starting with eighteen members they have grown to twenty-eight, a sign, we hope, that next year they will increase with the same rapidity. Their program of Shaksperean exercises is before us, and it bears some excellent numbers.——The “Carbondale” circle reports a prosperous year. The interest and enthusiasm of the members is increasing. The memorial days are all observed, and by devoting ten to fifteen minutes of each session to singing the circle is becoming familiar with Chautauqua songs. Mr. and Mrs. G. R. Alden gave the circle some very happy talks on their return from their recent trip to the Florida Chautauqua and New Orleans Exposition. The circle closed its first year with a trip to England; this year it closed with a “Greek night.” Going direct to France they propose to visit Paris, Switzerland, Italy and Greece. Arrived in Hellas, the manners, customs, home life and amusements of the Greeks are to be described in short essays. Each member intends to constitute “thonself” a committee of one to secure a new member for next year’s circle.——An appreciative letter reaches us from Springboro, where a circle now numbering fifteen has been in existence since 1881. The president writes: “While we are nearing the goal of graduation we look back with gratitude at our rich feast with kings and princes, with masters of art, of science, and of literature. Best of all, we find that we have been made to more clearly understand the wonderful power of the Infinite in all things. With our motto ‘Invincible’ still before us we hope not only to finish the course, but keep climbing with the Chautauqua brotherhood while life lasts.”——Let all good Chautauquans congratulate the fraternity at Montrose. Thus the secretary writes: “It has long been a wish that we might have a branch of the C. L. S. C. in our ‘City on the Hill.’ Four attempts were made, but to no avail; finally a few who were especially enthusiastic endeavored to push ahead once more. The result has been more successful than we anticipated. We organized in January with nine members, and now have grown to sixteen. We trust that July will find us with the desired amount of work fully and well accomplished. There is a most encouraging prospect of doubling the membership another year.”

Twenty-seven enrolled members make up the circle at Erie, Pa. The circle meets in the Y. M. C. A. parlors, and the informal, pleasant meetings have proved a great attraction to the members. The Shakspere memorial was observed very successfully, by a parlor session. The literary part of the program consisted of a discussion on the authorship of Shakspere, followed by readings, then came refreshments and the evening was closed by a half hour of Chautauqua songs. Not many evenings ago an address was delivered by the president on Emerson, followed by an hour of practical observation through the telescope. The Erie circle claims that they have interesting meetings, and as a proof say that a non-member, a blind man, is in almost constant attendance.——About 100 members of the C. L. S. C. Alumni Association of Pittsburgh met in a social way at the parlors of the Seventh Avenue Hotel on April 20th, to enjoy the pleasures attendant upon the third annual reunion of the society. Arrangements had been partially made for the reception of Dr. Vincent, who had been expected, but the following letter was received instead:

The banquet passed off most pleasantly.

At a recent meeting of the “Evergreen” circle, of Greenville, S. C., the circle expressed in a series of fitting resolutions the sorrow of the members at the death of Mr. Richard Grant White, and their appreciation of the value of his recent work for The Chautauquan.

A letter from Petersburg, Virginia: “We organized our circle last October, but it was almost January before we got fairly started. We follow closely the work laid out in The Chautauquan, occasionally having a public meeting. Our observance of the Longfellow and Shakspere days was as creditable as any literary exercises ever presented in our vicinity. Our desire for books has been so much increased by the C. L. S. C. that we have resolved to establish a library for the reading element of our city, and we have begun by the purchase of a few works as a nucleus.”

Orange City, Florida, has the beginning of, we hope, a large circle, in six readers who are taking the C. L. S. C. with their general reading. They use the questions and answers and make the general news of the week a feature of every program. The “Orange City” circle is looking forward to an assembly some day at Mount Dora.

Ohio comes in with a letter too good to lose: “I discover in your May number that a Kansas member of the C. L. S. C. class of ’85 says he is the oldest of that class and was born (1815) in the year of the great[597] battle of Waterloo. I hope he will persevere and enjoy the exercises until he reaches the age of at least three of the ‘Irrepressibles of ’84,’ two of whom are 75 years of age and one 84. The last is still reading for another seal and hopes to be at Chautauqua in August. Hope the member from Kansas will press on in the work he has begun, for there are great possibilities before him which can only be attained by perseverance. He will retain his mental faculties fresh and vigorous as in youth. Press on, good brother, and you will reap your reward here and hereafter.”——The C. L. S. C. of Cincinnati and vicinity held their Sixth Annual Reunion on May 5th in the parlors of the First Presbyterian Church. A goodly number were present from “Alpha” circle, “Cumminsville,” “Christie,” “Mt. Auburn,” “Cheviot,” “Grace M. P.,” “Third Presbyterian,” “Emanuel,” “Covington,” “Newport,” “Madisonville” and “Walnut Hills.” The program consisted of an address of welcome by J. G. O’Connell, Esq.; prayer by Rev. S. N. Spahr, followed by music, readings, and recitations. The room was brilliantly decorated with mottoes and class emblems, and a profusion of choice and fragrant flowers. From the chandeliers were suspended the class dates, ’85, ’86, ’87, and ’88, and the letters S. H. G. and under these were grouped merry companies, who took part in the collation, which was not the least enjoyable feature of the program. The quarterly vesper service was held on Special Sunday, May 9th, at Grace M. P. Church. It was ably conducted by Mr. E. F. Layman, President of “Grace” circle. Rev. S. N. Spahr gave a very excellent address to the members upon knowledge rightly directed.——The “Young Men’s” circle of Cincinnati has been doing good work this year. The circle is composed of companion workers in church and Sabbath school, and the bounds of union have been strengthened by the united study of the “Word and Works of God.” The Chautauqua studies were taken up by them with an earnest desire to better fit themselves for successful work. Their faith and courage has been severely tried by the death of one of their active, earnest members, Mr. George E. Wilcox—a sorrow which they are struggling to make a blessing.——The class of ’88 has a live section at Morrow, the “Irving.” There are over thirty regular attendants in the band and their fortnightly meetings are conducted like college recitations, a pastor being the instructor. May the “Irvings” prosper and multiply.

A friend writes from Norway, Michigan: “We wish to be recognized by our fellow-workers as a prosperous circle, although a small one, and we are very glad we have joined them.” The “Norway” has made a splendid record in its year’s existence, having met every week since last October. It need not fear a lack of cordial welcome here.——“Thornapple” circle, of Nashville, boasts a history very similar to that of the “Norway.” It was first organized a year ago, and its membership is ten. The members are all workers, and kindly report themselves highly pleased with the Chautauqua Idea.——A letter full of the Chautauqua characteristics comes from Decatur: “Our ‘Pansy’ circle of twenty-five members have held regular meetings since October. We are enthusiastic, and have done genuine work. But it has not all been work. We have had a ‘question match’ upon Greek History and Mythology, the winner of the contest receiving as a prize an original poem. On Founder’s day the question box was on ‘What has Chautauqua done for me?’ On Longfellow’s memorial the circle visited a neighboring class, spending a merry evening. But the red-letter day of the year was April 23d, when a dinner party was tendered the members and their husbands by one of the circle. It was generally pronounced the most enjoyable affair the town had had in many a day and served as a good advertisement of what the C. L. S. C. does for its members. Few of our guests knew how much we had done or could do.”——An unusually good joint meeting took place at Flint in honor of Shakspere. Two circles of the C. L. S. C. and one of the Spare Minute Course united. We like one thing on the program particularly. After taking up in essays Shakspere’s Character, Home Life and Contemporaries, the essays were all studies of one play—“Macbeth;” thus the plot of “Macbeth” was outlined, then followed “Macbeth’s Character,” “Lady Macbeth,” “Who was Duncan?” “Witches and Ghosts,” and “Moral of Macbeth.” This is a much more satisfactory method than several disjointed readings or studies. The evening was closed by conversation and readings, conducted by an able Shaksperean scholar, Hon. E. H. Thompson.

Shakspere himself would, we wager, have been nothing loath to have taken part in the celebration given in his memory at Goshen, Indiana; for “Kitchen Science” illustrated took up the first part of the evening, and the supper, we are told, was not confined to the articles on which The Chautauquan has tried to instruct its readers this past year. In the evening, after these gastronomic exercises were finished, a literary program was carried out.——Here is a circle “of the first magnitude.” Read its record. “The Franklin C. L. S. C. of Indiana has increased during the past three years from a membership of twelve to forty-five. We have never failed in having our regular meetings every two weeks since we first organized. During the past winter the circle managed the lecture course of our city, and as one of the results cleared nearly $100. Chancellor Vincent was one of the lecturers, and the members of our circle were delighted to meet him after hearing ‘That Boy.’”——The C. L. S. C. at Lima, representing classes ’85, ’86, ’87 and ’88, is one of the brightest and most wide-awake circles in the State. The circle was organized three years ago, and now has a pleasantly furnished room with piano, library, etc.; meets every Friday evening, and observes all memorial days.——Shawnee Mound has a Chautauqua class of twenty-three members. We are pleased to notice that the circle passed, at a recent meeting, a resolution of respect in memory of Richard Grant White, expressing their sorrow at the loss which American scholarship, and in particular the C. L. S. C. have sustained.——We are pained to record the death of Mr. Hermon St. John, at Salem, on May 1st. The Chautauqua work loses in him a faithful friend.

It has been remarked in these columns already that “Alpha” of Quincy, Illinois, is famous for its novelties. Their latest sensation was the very practical illustration of a subject given before the circle by the secretary. This gentleman is a native of Hibernia, and so was chosen for a paper on dynamite. When called upon to perform he produced a package of the explosive, much to the consternation of the members.——There died at Rushville, on April 18th, the oldest member, without doubt, of the C. L. S. C. in the world, Mr. Van Rensalaer Wells. Three years ago his daughter began reading to him the books of the course. He took a lively interest in these readings, and finally joined the class of ’86. Had he lived it was his intention to have visited Chautauqua at the graduation of his class.——A good woman from Chicago writes: “I went about from house to house among my friends, and finally succeeded in inducing three young persons, all earning their own living, to begin the readings with me.… We sit around a table socially, and discuss freely our literary repast.… I forgot to say that I am a very busy woman, the mother of three boys. My best reading is often done after nine at night, when the little eyes are closed in sleep.”——The announcement of a new C. L. S. C. arrival is made from Oregon, where the “Ganymede” of twenty members appeared in October last. Busy people, but they feel that they can not afford to miss the Saturday evening meeting. The meetings are to be continued through the summer for the purpose of review.——Another Illinois addition made to the C. L. S. C. last fall was at Savoy, where a club of eighteen was gathered. Notwithstanding the very severe weather[598] and deep snow, and the fact that the circle members are farmers, living far apart, the sessions are full and wide-awake. A very good plan has been tried by the circle in chemistry, the blackboard being used for exercises. Every circle ought to have a blackboard.——The history of the class at Buckley began in 1882, when six members met in informal meetings for discussion. In 1884 it was thought wise to organize formally. Since that time the circle has been making a decided impression upon the community. Two public meetings have been given, which have attracted general attention. At the last, the closing session of the year, thoughtful remembrance was made of the president by the gift of a beautiful chair.——A band of nine join the ranks from Warren. It is only of late the class has found a name. It is “Meridian,” from the fact that the town is situated on one of the meridians. The circle has been following The Chautauquan in its plan of work, using the published programs, with slight variation.——“It takes three to make a circle,” writes a lady from Farina, “and we are three; one ‘Invincible,’ one ‘Pansy,’ and one ‘Plymouth Rock.’ We are scattered as to time, but are united in interest, in enthusiasm, and in determination. Our circle was organized in November, 1881, only a dot—myself—but though alone, and unsuccessful in securing readers, and hindered in every way from doing the best of work, there was a satisfaction in doing the readings that nothing had ever brought into my life. What we shall accomplish as a circle, the future will reveal, but there is no ‘giving up’ to any of us.”——A Chautauqua circle of Moline, not yet a year old, and a Shaksperean circle, under the same direction as the former, have been coöperating the past season in a series of parlor meetings of great interest. In January it was a dinner party; on Founder’s day a literary performance with brief essays on Chautauqua subjects; and on Shakspere day a decidedly new thing—a Shaksperean quotation contest. No one was allowed to give a quotation that had been given by another, and the successful competitor took the prize on his ninety-fifth quotation.——We are in receipt of the Longfellow program of the “Oakland” circle, of Chicago; an excellent and varied list of numbers it is. The “Oakland” is a wide-awake circle.

From Markesan, Wisconsin, the secretary of “Climax” circle writes: “We are still in a flourishing condition. Although some who were with us last year have gone to new homes, we have new members to make up those we have lost. There are no very young students in the class, but one has to wear two pairs of spectacles to see. We have observed most of the memorial days, and found the programs in The Chautauquan very useful.”——What one zealous reader did is told in a note from Darlington: “Last year myself and daughter read the course alone. Before the beginning of the present year I put a short article explaining the C. L. S. C. scheme into our local paper, and called a meeting of all those who would like to take the course. The result is that we now have a circle of thirteen. There will probably be an increase next year.”

A beautiful souvenir of the Longfellow celebration of the “Vincent” circle at Milwaukee, Minn., has reached our table. The memorial was a perfect success, and with justice the members felt very proud of it. The “Vincent” is another circle sprung from the faithfulness of a single reader, a lady who in 1883 began the course, and in 1884 had gathered a circle of twenty-two about her, each one of whom responds promptly and faithfully to all calls for class work.——The “Quintette” of “Plymouth Rocks” at Duluth have been doing the regular work since October, in informal meetings led by the different members in turn. They expect soon to change their name to suit an enlarged membership.——The “Gleaners,” of Zumbrota, with a goodly number of their friends were treated to an interesting program of exercises on Shakspere day. The “Gleaners” are a power in their community, and have, they say, “enough enthusiasm to fill up an evening without refreshments.”——At Hastings a circle began life in October with sixteen regular members, besides several local members. The class has had a sad break in its ranks by the death of Miss Kate Stebbins, a bright young woman who had undertaken the C. L. S. C. studies.——St. Paul bids fair to become exactly what its Chautauquans are aiming to make it, a great C. L. S. C. center. To this end a “Central” circle has been formed in the city, composed of six circles, the “Wakouta,” “Itasca,” “Dayton’s Bluff,” “Plymouth,” “Canadian American,” and “Pioneer,” and numbering in all over an hundred members. The “Central” circle celebrated Longfellow’s day by a very enjoyable program, and is trying to make arrangements for other joint entertainments. The St. Paul friends are proud of having two of their number prominent at Lake de Funiak, Mrs. Emily Huntington Miller, one of the founders of the “Pioneer” circle, and Dr. L. G. Smith, pastor of the First M. E. Church.——The home of the Minnesota Summer Assembly, Waseca, is the center of a stirring circle of twenty members. The increase in the circle is largely due to the efforts of the Rev. A. H. Gillet and his colaborers at the Assembly, which met at this lake for the first time last year. The “North Star,” of Waseca, offers a very attractive plan of work.

The Iowa friends come in as strong as ever. Winterset reports a new circle of twenty-five members, with a weekly program published in the local paper, and growing zeal.——Dunlap reports another which is in its second year, and which numbers twenty-three. An especially good program was arranged by these friends recently. A number of their members visited New Orleans the past winter, and an evening of sketches of Exposition sights was arranged.——“Sunny Side Straight Line,” of Hamburg, is composed of two school ma’ams. They meet whenever and wherever it is convenient; after five p. m., before eight a. m., at the gate or in the kitchen. Pleased with the course, they are looking forward to joining the “Pansies” at Chautauqua in 1887.——The Afton circle had the pleasure of celebrating its first memorial day on April 23d. They succeeded so admirably that Addison day was observed as well. The Afton circle pays a kind tribute to the work: “We are glad the Chautauqua Idea struck us, but sorry it failed to reach us sooner. It has been of untold benefit to us, opening to our view new fields of thought, and arousing new resolutions for the future.”——At Blanchard the “Pansy” class gave an entertainment not long ago for the benefit of their work. An elocutionist was secured and after the performance the C. L. S. C. and its aims were presented to the audience. The circle realized a nice little sum from their venture, which they propose to turn into maps, charts and the like for their room. An excellent idea.——Kindly mention we must make, also, of the Decorah circle. Like all Iowa circles, it “grows.” The secretary writes: “We began last year with quite a small number, but have kept adding to our numbers until there are eighteen now who are reading the course. Our circle is composed entirely of ladies, the most of whom have work that takes up the greater part of their time. We have very pleasant meetings and derive much pleasure and profit from them.”——Washington, Iowa, has a circle of thirty members. It has been holding weekly meetings for over two years. At the close of last year this circle held a picnic with the Fairfield circle, and this year they have distinguished themselves by an elaborate Longfellow entertainment. “Miles Standish” was read and illustrated by tableaux. The Washingtonians certainly displayed extraordinary artistic ability in arranging one, at least, of these tableaux. They wanted “Priscilla” led in on her “Snow-white Bull,” but how to manage the “palfrey” was a question. Here is how they did it: A long narrow table was padded, the legs wrapped, a head with suitable horns constructed, and the whole thing finally wrapped with white cotton-flannel. “Necessity is the mother of invention.”——A beautiful memorial comes from[599] one of the members of the circle at Humboldt. “My mother, aged eighty-one years, died March 4th. She was the first one in this county to become interested in the C. L. S. C. She made her eldest grandson a member, bought the books for the first year’s course, and read them first, marking whatever she wished him to notice. At our class meetings she always selected from the Bible the chapter to be read at the opening exercises.… A grand helper has left us.”——At Keosauqua a circle was organized as long ago as ’82. Of the original eight members only three are left, but the circle has more than held its own, now numbering twelve or more members. They are fortunate in having as a leader a teacher of unusual ability.——At Tabor a circle was organized last September, which, with a goodly membership of interested members, is doing excellent work. A Professor from Tabor College has helped this circle much by performing for them chemical experiments.

The Chautauqua work has lost one of its strongest members in Cooperstown, Dakota, this year, in the sad death of Mrs. H. G. Pickett, who accidentally shot herself in her husband’s bank in that town. She was an ardent admirer of the Chautauqua work, and her life a true exposition of the truths that the C. L. S. C. is striving to bring into the practical every-day life of its members.——A spirited Shakspere anniversary was celebrated at Faulkton. The parlors where the circle met were filled to overflowing with delighted guests, and full exercises of tragedy, song and jest were carried out.

The “Kate F. Kimball” circle, of Minneapolis, Kansas, started on its career in October last with a membership of thirteen. Their plan is simple and practical—a sure way of introducing conversation. Each member is required to prepare five questions on the readings, which are given to the circle, and which are then discussed. This method would serve a good purpose in the conversazione.——The Kansas City Journal suggests that Tuesday night in that city ought to be called Chautauqua night, as nearly a dozen circles meet there on that evening.——The “Clytie,” of Arkansas City has had a severe trial of its loyalty this year. Malarial fever has broken their ranks so that they have been able to hold but a few meetings. It does not dampen their ardor though, and they express all honor and gratitude to Superintendent and Counselors for their wise help. The “Clytie” joins another Kansas circle in protesting against the name “Plymouth Rocks.” This is the “Greenwood,” of Eureka, which declares, “We can not become reconciled to it.” The “Greenwood” does not, however, allow its pleasure in the reading to be spoiled by the class name, for it writes: “Chautauqua gives us a broad departure from our daily cares and ruts which is very refreshing, and we trust it will be of benefit to us.”——Here is a five-year-old Kansas town, Everest, of five hundred inhabitants, with a circle of sixteen members. Here is certainly a chance, with such a start, to grow up with the country.——Greetings to the class of ’86, and to all Chautauquans, come from the circle at Leavenworth. This circle has ten members. Its chief circle interest is the question box, which frequently leads to a lively discussion. They are favored in having secured an excellent leader, the Rev. J. A. Monteith. Several of this class are reading the White Seal course.

There are in Nebraska nineteen circles of the C. L. S. C. A strong effort is being made to secure at the Assembly at Crete, in July, a full attendance of representatives from all these organizations. Accept a word of advice from The Chautauquan. Go to Crete if you can get there. It will pay you in more than double measure to take part in the exercises of C. L. S. C. day. Of the nineteen circles of Nebraska, the one at Lincoln takes the lead, we believe, in numbers. It has reached forty-seven, with an average attendance of about forty. In recognition of the literary character of the circle the Superintendent of Public Instruction in Lincoln has kindly opened a room in the new State House to the circle. The Lincoln circle, as befits its location at the capital of the State, is taking active measures to make the C. L. S. C. day at Crete a success. Already they have attracted public attention by a unique Shaksperean festival, at which a number of guests were entertained.——Another of the nineteen is at Falls City, an ’88 offspring. The circle has seventeen members. An executive committee of three appoints instructors for the review of each meeting, following the plan in The Chautauquan. The class observed Longfellow day with appropriate exercises. Our Falls City friends have chosen a name with a meaning—“Misselts”—“I will surmount all difficulties.” Not an easy name to take, by any means, but the “Misselts” is made up of school teachers mainly, and what can they not do?——An addition to the Nebraska circles is made at Holdrege. It came about in this way, writes a friend: “I left my home circle in Indiana in December last and started out to ‘try my fortune in the far West.’ I first stopped at Odell, Nebraska, and tried to introduce the ‘Chautauqua Idea’ there. I found it was already being talked of, and by the efficient efforts of a gentleman interested in the movement, a grand, earnest circle was organized. In February I came to Holdrege, the ‘Magic City,’ as it is called, naturally expecting every one to be interested in the C. L. S. C. I had almost decided to give up the course, because I was so busy, when I met a teacher of the town—a ‘Pansy.’ We have formed a circle, and next year instead of having the smallest number possible, expect to compare favorably with any in the State.”——Blair has a circle of twenty-two members this year. A small circle has been at work in the town for two years, but this year its membership has increased in remarkable proportions. Blair is situated within sight of the Missouri River, and from this noble stream the circle calls itself the “‘Souri.” Occasional parlor meetings for invited friends are enlarging the work rapidly in Blair.

Already we have given our readers hints of the noble way in which Professor Spring has been representing Chautauqua at New Orleans. His last public exploit was the Shaksperean Anniversary. From a local paper we learn of the success of the undertaking: “The thirty-first birthday of the Stratford-on-Avon bard was celebrated last evening at the Exposition. The ceremonies were gotten up almost entirely by Prof. Edward A. Spring, director of the Chautauqua classes in sculpture. It was hoped that Judge Braughn and other local gentlemen learned in Shaksperean lore would have been present, but a heavy storm prevented. The ceremonies, however, were very successful, though briefer than had been intended. They were presided over by ex-Governor Hoyt, from far-away Wyoming, chief of the jury on education, who made a brief but eloquent oration in commencing the proceedings. He dwelt on the incomparable greatness of Shakspere and the immense influence his writings have had on the many millions of people speaking the English tongue, and showed how, as the centuries roll on and as the English speaking peoples grow and multiply, the luster that attaches to his name must grow brighter and brighter. Following Governor Hoyt, Professor Spring made a neat little speech, setting forth the benefits accruing to those connected with the great educational institutions with which he was connected, and how appropriate it was for the Chautauquans to include in the fifteen great events they commemorate, the birth of Shakspere. Mr. Spring then introduced Mrs. Florence Anderson Clark, of Bonham, Texas, a member of the C. L. S. C., who closed the evening by reading an original poem on Shakspere.”

From the far western frontier of Texas, at Albany, comes this letter: “Three of us associated ourselves together the first of October to read the Required Readings of the C. L. S. C. In January we were joined by two more. Our method of study has been to have each member originate twenty questions, to present at each weekly meeting to the members, who on the following week take them up to answer and discuss. The circle has been quietly but seriously working. The benefit of[600] having a certain course of reading has already been felt, and we believe that many others will be influenced to join us the next year.”

Colorado is represented by a circle of seventeen at Delta, a growing young town blessed with many people of culture and refinement. The circle belongs to the ranks of the ’88s, and is proceeding with the vigor characteristic of the class. They luckily can introduce good music as a part of each evening’s program. By the secretary of the Delta circle a word of experience is added: “After pursuing the course of study nearly four years, I can add my testimony as to its great inspiration to all who are systematically keeping it up.”

Carson, Nevada, has the “Sierra Nevada” circle of twenty-five ’88s, a vigorous young life that, in spite of delays in getting books, and the discouragements in starting, is getting along famously. The spread of the C. L. S. C. in the West depends very largely upon the organized circle. The “Sierra Nevadas” have a summer work of bringing in recruits, as well as of making up back lessons.

The flags are flying from the “Green” circle, of Portland, Oregon, and “we are getting along splendidly,” is their watchword. They write that they are growing more and more enthusiastic, and that the circle is becoming “a joy and a feast of good things” to them all. “Green” circle had a brilliant Longfellow celebration last winter. The feature of it was a Longfellow picture gallery, representing the principal heroes and heroines. A good idea to remember when we come around to February 27, 1886.

The remarkable Floral Festival held in Sacramento, California, on May 5th, in honor of Mrs. M. E. Crocker, to whom that city owes so much for her munificent charities and endowments, was participated in by two of the local circles of that city. The “Sacramento” circle sent an elegant tribute to the festival. On a bust about three feet high, decorated with flowers and bearing the letters C. L. S. C., was erected a gateway with gates ajar; within was an open book. The “Vincent” circle sent one equally unique—a pyramid of flowers surmounted with a flower-wreathed pole, from which was suspended a banner of flowers.

The “Alma” circle of San Diego, California, consists of seventeen members of the class of ’87. Longfellow’s day was a very pleasant occasion with them. The president tells us: “The good effects of the reading are already to be seen among our numbers; a desire for good and profitable reading being manifested more and more as we pursue the course.”——The Chautauquans of San José had a very interesting meeting in celebration of the “Bard of Avon.” A most excellent program was rendered. One of the leading features was a very able critical review of “As You Like It,” read by a lady of the circle.

THE C. L. S. C. CLASSES.

CLASS OF 1885.—“THE INVINCIBLES.”

“Press on, reaching after those things which are before.”

OFFICERS.

There will be excursions from Chautauqua to Niagara Falls every few days during the season, and there will be no difficulty in securing ample and satisfactory accommodations for the class of 1885, or any portion of it.

The challenge of our classmate in Kansas brings forth the following from Maryland: “I see in the May Chautauquan a chivalric old gentleman hailing from Kansas, claiming to be the oldest member of the class—being born in the year the battle of Waterloo was fought. Now, I have entered on my seventy-fifth summer, and remember distinctly the battle of Waterloo. But, he claims also to be the youngest. Now, if I shall have the pleasure of meeting him at Chautauqua, and he is so disposed, we will run a foot race. But, really, this is the time for ‘grave and reverend seigniors’ to speak out. Who comes next?”

Nebraska.—I trust that I shall be numbered with those who shall “pass under the Arches” at dear Chautauqua this summer, thereby proving that I am one who is earnestly striving to “Press on, reaching after those things which are before.” The C. L. S. C. means a great deal to me. These magic letters are the key which unlocks all the enthusiasm of my being. These four years have been a new revelation to me, and have been of deep, abiding interest, and a well-spring of joy. Last year my dearest friend, a devoted Chautauquan, a member of the class of ’85, a thorough “Invincible,” in every sense where right was involved, went on before. Since that time I have read alone, but hope to be one of the successful many who shall pass under the Arches and “begin” again, instead of ending on Commencement day.

An earnest society lady writes: “The whole bent of my life is changed by the C. L. S. C. Next to being a Christian, it is the greatest blessing of my life. I read and listen to sermons and lectures more intelligently, and have been led into a spiritual life.”

Ontario.—I have often felt it my duty to express my thankfulness to the C. L. S. C. for the information I have received from their well chosen books. Words are inadequate to express my gratefulness to Chancellor Vincent and his coadjutors for the great and lasting benefit I have received from this course, although being unable to do the work as thoroughly as I would if time permitted. I complete my four years this summer, and I am more anxious than ever to explore other books which I have not read. This circle of reading has created a desire for some branches that hitherto was dormant, and revived the desire for others. From the first I have been anticipating a trip to Chautauqua, but will be unable to gratify my desire this summer. I hope to be able to receive my diploma at home. I think our class motto is excellent, and hope we will all prove worthy of our name—“Invincible.”

CLASS OF 1886.—“THE PROGRESSIVES.”

“We study for light, to bless with light.”

CLASS ORGANIZATION.

From all quarters there comes up the assurance from members of ’86 that they mean to be at Chautauqua or Framingham this summer. Attendance at an Assembly, with its enthusiastic “Round-Tables,” conferences upon literature, art and science, new lights upon past reading, and new outlooks for the future, well nigh doubles the value of the course. Come, earnest readers of ’86, and see.

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Plans are already being formed for the graduation exercises at Chautauqua next year, and the hardly less interesting observances at the New England Assembly. Any suggestions bearing upon this important matter may be freely made by letter to the president or secretary, by those who can not be present at the Assemblies. The class of ’86 is the first large class to graduate; it has done grand work in the course, and it means to honor Chautauqua and itself by suitable exercises and observances, when its thousands shall come up to receive from the University their diploma in August, 1886.

We shall hear, personally or by letter, at the Assemblies, from our honorary members, of whom the class of ’86 is justly so proud.

Will members of ’86, in New England, remember the new Hall of Philosophy at Framingham, now under way, and to be completed by July 1st? Send your subscription, if you have not done so; subscribe and send at once if you have not yet taken a share in this grand enterprise, and induce your friends to lend assistance, that the few hundred dollars needed to finish and furnish the building may be at once forthcoming. Remit to N. B. Fisk, Woburn, Mass.

It is hoped that there will be a large number of the New England members at the Framingham Assembly in July.

Let your light shine! hold the torch on high! let every one see that the class of ’86 is true to its name—“Progressives.”

Miss Alice C. Jennings, ’86, whose poems from time to time have appeared in The Chautauquan, writes as follows: “A severe sickness in childhood deprived me entirely of the sense of hearing. This has been more effectual than bolts and bars in excluding me from all institutions of learning. You can easily imagine how precious to a person so situated must be the opportunities of the C. L. S. C., and of the ‘Society to Encourage Studies at Home.’ At least four of my deaf friends have joined the C. L. S. C. on my own solicitation. We have tried to have a circle among ourselves. We live in five different places, but our headquarters are at Boston Highlands, and we send reports there every month.”

To the New England Branch a suggestion is made in the interest of the class, and in behalf of the excellent Secretary of the New England Branch. Will not every member not able to attend at Framingham this summer send (July 15-28) to Miss Mary R. Hinckley, South Framingham, Mass., a postal card with postoffice address, and bearing, if nothing more, “Yours for ’86”? To ascertain those who and how many are affiliated with “the good class of ’86” in New England, is most desirable for weighty senior and graduation interests.

Reports from various quarters lead to the conclusion that, compared with the whole number at any time enrolled in the class of ’86, the number entering upon the Senior year will be exceptionally large. It ought to be large—larger than any class preceding, more thorough, more enthusiastic. We have the advantage of the experience of all who have gone before. Let us rise to our privileges.

CLASS OF 1887.—“THE PANSIES.”

“Neglect not the gift that is in thee.”

OFFICERS.

At a great camp meeting near Indianapolis, in the first week of August, the Rev. Frank Russell, President of the class of ’87, is to set forth in an address, the nature of the C. L. S. C. as an educational and moral force.

The wake of a C. L. S. C. class is found to kindle a bright way for the next. Much correspondence of the officers of the class of ’87 has been toward the interest of the class of ’88, and is now extending even toward that of ’89. Each succeeding class seems to promise increasing numbers and power.

A member of ’87 has succeeded in forming a circle at Jefferson, Ohio, of ten members. She writes: “I can not tell you all the good our circle is doing for us individually. We have enjoyed our chemistry very much. We were very pleasantly entertained and instructed by experiments given by Professor Perry in April.”

From St. Johns, N. B., Mr. G. A. Henderson sends the following account of the C. L. S. C.: “We organized with five ‘Pansies,’ and were joined this year by seventeen ‘Plymouth Rocks.’ We were the means also of influencing the formation of another circle of ’88, over twenty in number. At present there are about sixty reading the course in our city. We look forward with deep interest to the publication of the book by our chief ‘Pansy,’ and although we have not contributed to it, we hope to meet and march with you through the Gates in ’87.”

Hannah Percival Hamer, a member of the “Pansy” class, died at her home in Taunton, Mass., April 24, 1885. She was a most faithful worker and firm advocate of the Chautauqua course.

On the 9th of April Miss Maggie B. McKnight, of Chambersburg, Pa., a member of the “Pansy” class, died. She was a devoted and enthusiastic Chautauquan, and looked with great pleasure toward the time when she could visit Chautauqua. She was reading with another member of the class, who intends, however, to keep on, saying that she “could not do without it now.”

Westfield, N. J., is the home of a “Pansy” circle, calling itself by the cheerful name of “Hope.” It began with three sisters reading the course together. It was very fitting that they should receive their first inspiration from reading “Four Girls at Chautauqua.” The “Hope” is working hard to increase its membership.

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CLASS OF 1888.—“THE PLYMOUTH ROCKS.”

“Let us be seen by our deeds.”

CLASS ORGANIZATION.

The following are among the circles not yet reported in our column. I first give name of circle, then place and number of members: “Gradatim,” Kennebunk, Me., four; Bloomfield, Ind, seven; Niobrara, Neb., eight; “Master” (motto, “Labor is the price of mastery”), Ionia, Mich., eleven; “Peripatetics,” Chicago, Ill., twelve; “Magnolia,” Marianna, Fla., fourteen; “Philomathean,” Lancaster, N. Y., eighteen. The last named has by quotations, recitations, readings and essays celebrated the “memorial days.” For six months none but ladies composed the circle. They, however, so charmed three gentlemen that they sought admission and became enthusiastic students. The members of this circle so dislike the class name that they have refused to adopt it. They are among the others who express their enjoyment of the class reports in our ’88 column.

The circle at Hastings, Minnesota, twenty-three members, has instructed its secretary to write their objection to our name. Among other things is the following: “In The Chautauquan we read of one class talking of establishing a ‘Heliotrope Bed’ at Chautauqua, and another a ‘Pansy Bed.’ We might send a coop of ‘Plymouth Rocks,’ but we fear they might demolish the beds of flowers.” We have received encomiums of praise of the name. One from Mount Carmel, Connecticut, says: “Our name, like every other worthy thing, in spite of its ‘fowl’ associations, needs no defenders.” One from Toronto, Canada, writes: “I am satisfied with our name, for although it represents a speckled bird it will ‘crow’ a good deal when four years old.” Another from Marine, Ill., after thanking Chancellor Vincent for “How to Read Alone,” protests against a change of name or motto.—A member of our class, a boarder in a Young Women’s Christian Association of New Haven, Connecticut, writes: “I think as one takes up Chautauqua books he loses the relish for stories, e’en though written by good authors. What an opportunity for gaining knowledge of the highest order!”—“Angle” circle, North Groton, N. H., is bereaved in the loss of one of their earnest workers, Mrs. E. E. Merrill, a lady who read much and well, and yet in the five short months had become so fascinated with the C. L. S. C. that almost her last words were those of appreciation of the same.—The East Norwich, L. I., circle is likewise bereaved in the death of a devoted member, Miss Lizzie Franklin.—A class of unmarried ladies complains that they have not been noticed. If they will send us another letter, writing the name of their circle so we can decipher it, and also give the town, or city, and state in which they live, we will gracefully and gladly bow our recognition.

“Among the Indians: Osage Agency, Indian Territory.—Our circle consists of six members—five teachers and one bookkeeper. Although each lives a busy life, we have had weekly meetings, kept up with the required reading, and celebrated two authors’ days, Bryant’s and Longfellow’s. Surrounded as we are by Indians, who still wear blankets instead of citizen’s dress, and who are not far advanced in the arts of civilized life, we feel doubly thankful for the benefits arising from such a course of reading.”

In Bingham Cañon, Utah, a mining camp situated about twenty-eight miles southwest of Salt Lake City, the New West Education Commission has a school established. One of the teachers proposed taking the Chautauqua course alone, but, mentioning it to several, organized a circle of six. Of the name she writes: “I like it so much. My home is in Plymouth, Mass.”

Half of the members of “Carleton” circle, Hudson, Mich., live out of town from two to six miles, yet they are numbered among the most enthusiastic and faithful. They have had full programs at every meeting, and have observed all memorial days. They number thirty-seven, twelve being of our class. The ’88s wear on their hats a symbolical badge (a fac-simile, in brass, of the pedal extremity of a Plymouth Rock). They like the motto, but not the name.

One from Gilbert’s Mills, N. Y., writes: “I can not longer refrain from expressing how much I enjoy the reading of the course, although I am pursuing it alone, occasionally meeting with the circle at Fulton, five miles from here, which I much enjoy. The more I read and learn, the more anxious I am to go on, that I may be no disgrace to our grand class name, that takes me back to dear New England, and home. I would prove myself worthy of it and of our motto.”

The “Chippewas” is the name of a circle of twenty-two members, formed at the city of Eau Claire, Wis., October of 1884. Four of the members belong to the class of ’86, the others to that of ’88. The society has met once a week, and has observed the memorial days. In addition to the prescribed course, the class is reading the two volumes of Timayenis’s History of Greece.

“Mountain City” circle, Frederick, Md., very appropriately and enthusiastically celebrated “Shakspere Day.” The program consisted of a “Sketch of his Life,” and the reading of “The Merchant of Venice,” the members taking the different characters.

Mrs. F. B. Edwards, who with her daughter joined the class of ’88 last fall, and was a faithful and diligent member, died at her home in Hartford, Conn., March 14, 1885. She was a lady of excellent education, and had also the culture of much foreign travel and residence in Europe. She was delighted with the C. L. S. C. plan, and especially with the opportunities it offers for mental and moral growth.

One of the most earnest and beloved members of the “Pierian” circle, of Brooklyn, N. Y., Morgan Morgans, has lately died. Mr. Morgans was a young man of but twenty years of age—a member of the class of ’88, and a zealous Christian.

So much having been written pro and con, respecting our class name, it is proposed to have the entire class vote for or against the name. The circles will send their vote, giving the number in favor and against present name. Those who are not in circles can send their votes as individuals. The vote should be sent to the Rev. C. C. McLean, St. Augustine, Fla., at as early a date as possible.

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THE SUMMER ASSEMBLIES.

FRAMINGHAM, MASSACHUSETTS.

The writer of this article has visited, in different years, most of the Sunday-school Assemblies, and he has found none, not even Chautauqua itself, where the wave of C. L. S. C. enthusiasm runs higher than at the New England Assembly, South Framingham, Mass. Every class has its headquarters, trimmed with greens and flowers, with the class-motto wrought upon its walls; and every class has its anniversary, with toasts and cream. The Round-Table is crowded at every session with intelligent students, who can both ask and answer questions. If a reporter could have taken down and printed all the replies given one afternoon last summer to the inquiry, “What good is the C. L. S. C. doing?” it would have furnished a valuable document for the use of workers in the cause. The camp-fire is always crowded; last year the ranks, arranged by classes, counted over five hundred members; and this year it will be greater.

The traveler on the railway sees already a white columned building gleaming among the trees on the summit of the hill. If he be a Chautauquan, he needs no one to tell him “The Hall of Philosophy,” for he recognizes it at once as the copy in every detail of the building at Chautauqua. This Hall will be dedicated by the Chancellor during the coming session of the Assembly, when from all New England the faithful will rally to participate in the great occasion. Its dedication will take place on Wednesday, July 22d, and the address will be delivered by the Rev. Edward Everett Hale, D.D., one of the Counselors of the C. L. S. C.

The Recognition day services will be held on Thursday, July 25th, when an address will be given by the Rev. Luther T. Townsend, D.D., of the Boston University.

Among the leading lecturers (and lecturesses) of the Assembly during the present season will be the Rev. F. E. Clark, D.D., Prof. W. N. Rice, Dr. E. C. Bolles, Dr. R. R. Meredith, Dr. Geo. C. Lorimer, Robert J. Burdette, Miss Kate Field, and Mrs. Mary A. Livermore.

MONTEAGLE, TENNESSEE.

Monteagle is in the State of Tennessee, upon the Cumberland Mountains, 2,200 feet above the sea-level. We have here the most invigorating, health-giving atmosphere, the purest water, the most beautiful wild flowers, the grandest mountain scenery, the most picturesque views of the valley lying hundreds of feet below, the loveliest vales, the most magnificent forests of native trees—indeed, a combination of all the desirable natural conditions for a pleasant summer resort.

This is the place which has been selected by the Christian people of the South, of broad views, of liberal hearts and generous impulses, of intellectual culture and refinement, for the location of the Monteagle Sunday-school Assembly. This Assembly is permanently established by a charter granted by the State of Tennessee. For two years they have been very successful.

If there is virtue in faithful and capable teachers and honest work, no one in 1885 will go away from Monteagle dissatisfied.

These schools offer to teachers and intellectual people a place where they can spend the heated term of each year, combining study with rest and recreation, in a delightful and inexpensive mountain resort, free from all social dissipation. It is proposed to furnish in the summer schools of Monteagle the best instruction in every department open. All who seek absolute rest on these mountain heights will be free to take it; those who shall seek only lighter courses will find entertainment; and those who wish thorough instruction will not be disappointed.

The summer schools open June 30th. The Assembly opens August 4th, and closes August 28th. Among the lecturers will be Dr. B. M. Palmer, President Chas. Louis Loos, Dr. D. M. Harris, Bishop Walden, Sau Ah-Brah, the Rev. Sam Jones, Dr. Lansing Burrows, Wallace Bruce, and Hon. G. W. Bain.

ISLAND PARK, INDIANA.

The Island Park Assembly will hold its seventh annual session on the beautiful grounds of the association near Rome City, Indiana. The Assembly will open July 14th, and remain in session until July 30th. The Tabernacle Lecture Course will be unusually brilliant and attractive. Among the speakers will be Bishop Foster, Bishop Bowman, Prof. C. E. Bolten, Wallace Bruce, Dr. Geo. C. Lorimer, Dr. H. H. Willets, Dr. John Alabaster, the Rev. John DeWitt Miller, and Miss Lydia Von Finkelstein.

The music will be under the general management of Prof. C. C. Case. The Goshen full band and orchestra, and the Hayden Quartette will be in attendance. The Sunday-school Normal Class will be under the personal instruction of the Superintendent of Instruction, and will be one of the most important features of the coming Assembly. The course will be identical with the Chautauqua course, and graduates will be entitled to the Chautauqua diploma.

The visitor finds the Island, some twenty acres in extent, a few minutes’ walk over a bridge and through a shady avenue from the railroad station, Rome City, with the village at an equal distance westward. The Island is naturally beautiful, always fanned by cool breezes, with hills and miniature valleys, romantic nooks, a beautiful beach, and a drive partially surrounding it, many fountains and wells, and a plaza surrounded by hotels and offices. Beyond the rustic bridges of the canal are a Tabernacle seating 3,000, a building containing the Model of Palestine, and the Art Hall with its large lecture rooms.

From the north is to be seen, a mile across the Lake, “Spring Beach,” a well appointed hotel in an elaborately improved park, containing mineral springs and the famous trout ponds.

South of the Island, across a bridge, are the Assembly lands, containing the Amphitheater, and laid out in lots and avenues, with a high bluff to the Lake. Here are opportunities to tent in perfect quiet or in the liveliest streets of the Assembly City.

Two steamers ply on Sylvan Lake, between the Island, the head of the Lake and Spring Beach. Two hundred row boats are kept.

Postoffice, telegraph, bathing and laundry facilities on the ground. Ample hotel and boarding arrangements in the village.

MONTEREY, CALIFORNIA.

The sixth summer Assembly of the Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle will be held at Pacific Grove, near Monterey, California, opening with an address Monday evening, June 29th, and closing Friday, July 10th.

This Assembly, in spirit and purpose, resembles the famous Assembly held each summer at Chautauqua Lake, New York. The course of lectures during the coming session will include in its subjects not only scientific themes, but those of art, history, and general literature.

Microscopes, stereoscopes and other apparatus will abundantly illustrate the lectures. The managers also intend to add to each evening’s lecture the attraction of beautiful music, illustrative tableaux, recitations, etc.

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The Assembly will open on the evening of June 29th, with an address by Dr. C. C. Stratton, of San José, President of the Pacific Branch.

A few of the speakers and subjects will be as follows: The Rev. Dr. Wythe, Oakland, “Scenes in Great Britain and the Continent;” Prof. H. B. Norton, San José, “The Knights of the Temple;” F. B. Perkins, San Francisco, “Wit and Humor;” Dr. C. L. Anderson, Santa Cruz, “Diatoms;” Edward Berwick, Carmel Valley, “World Federation;” Adley Cummins, Esq., San Francisco, “The Sanscrit Language and Literature;” the Rev. Dr. E. G. Beckwith, San Francisco, “School and Skill.”

Sunday-school Normal Work will receive its due share of attention.

The music of the Assembly will be in the very competent hands of Mrs. Helen M. Cushman, of San Francisco, and will be artistic and delightful.

The morning of Friday, July 10th, will be occupied with the interesting exercises of the Third Graduating Class of the Pacific Branch C. L. S. C.

Pacific Grove is situated on the beautiful Bay of Monterey, and connected with the ancient capital of the State by a pleasant drive of one and a half miles, over a macadamized road lately constructed. In beauty of location it can not be excelled—its graceful pines, extending to the water’s edge, affording a delightful refuge from the heat of the sun. As a healthful place of resort, it is not surpassed by any locality in the State. The value of the Assembly held here has been fully assured by the delightful sessions of the past five years.

The well known facilities for studying Natural History at Pacific Grove have made that one of the important topics of study, and much enthusiasm has been aroused on the coast by the work of the C. L. S. C. in this department.

LAKESIDE, OHIO.

The prospects for the work of 1885 in this beautiful and healthful summer resort are commensurate with the energy displayed by the zealous management. The grounds are charmingly located on the northern shore of the Peninsula, opposite Sandusky, Ohio; accessible by an hour’s delightful steamer ride from this city, and will probably be connected with the Danbury station of the Lake Shore Railroad by rail this season. The Encampment sessions begin on Tuesday evening, July 21st, the brief enthusiastic “Reunion” to be followed by one of the spicy and wise lectures of the Rev. P. S. Henson, D.D., of Chicago. There will then follow for nearly two weeks a rare program under the superintendency of the Rev. B. T. Vincent, of Philadelphia, Pa., assisted by the Revs. F. Russell and E. Persons. Mrs. B. T. Vincent will have charge of the Primary Teachers’ Department, and also the Boys’ and Girls’ Meeting, assisted by the Rev. J. S. Reager, of Ohio. The Models of the Tabernacle, Jerusalem, etc., will be explained daily by the Rev. Dr. Hartupee and Mr. Tannyhill. Miss Ross, of Chicago, will give daily instruction in Kindergarten work, and Professor Trueblood, of Delaware, Ohio, in Elocution. Daily devotional meetings will be conducted by the Rev. W. H. Pearce, of Erie, Pa. Lectures and sermons are announced from Bishop R. S. Foster, Drs. Henson, Alabaster, Nelson, Bayless, Parsons, Rev. Messrs. Young, Pearce, Russell, Reager; Colonel Bain, of Kentucky, Wallace Bruce and Leon H. Vincent. Brilliant stereopticon exhibitions, with lectures by the Rev. Mr. Young and Professor Bolton. Oriental exhibitions by Miss and Mr. Von Finkelstein, with their gorgeous collection of Oriental costumes, etc. The Meigs Sisters and Professor Underhill will give concerts and elocutionary readings; Professor Trueblood will also give popular readings. Mr. French, of Chicago, a racy and instructive Chalk-talker, will “draw.” The music will be under the able direction of Professor Brierly, of Erie, Pa., and Miss McClintock will delight the crowds who gather at Lakeside. The C. L. S. C. will, of course, have a large place in the attention of the people, as Lakeside is a center of a large field of workers in this line. There will be “Round Tables,” etc., and a public Recognition service for the class of ’85, all of whom who desire it may secure this privilege there, and receive their diplomas, which will be there for distribution, if they inform the Rev. B. T. Vincent in time to see that the diplomas are sent to him for them. A Soldiers’ day, with war songs and a lecture on “Echoes from Round Top,” by the Rev. J. B. Young, of Harrisburg, Pa., will form one of the enthusiastic features. The promises of Lakeside, one of the finest of Chautauqua’s daughters, were never so good, nor so sure of rich fulfillment.

CRETE, NEBRASKA.

The Nebraska Sunday-school Assembly Grounds consist of one hundred and nine acres on the banks of the Blue River, at Crete, Nebraska. Its first session was held in that town in July, 1882, under the direction of the Rev. J. D. Stewart. Last year, at its third session, a splendid tract of land was donated to the Assembly. It extends along the river bank, with admirable opportunities for boating, contains a beautiful grove and ample grounds for buildings, walks, drives, and other purposes. Two lecture halls and a dining hall have already been erected, and some hundreds of tents provided; while a Normal Hall, several cottages, and other buildings are proposed.

The Normal Department will be in charge of Prof. R. S. Holmes, who has been for many years a teacher of this department at Chautauqua.

The Primary Normal Department will be in charge of Miss Lucy J. Rider, who will also conduct a children’s class daily.

Dr. J. H. Vincent, President of the Circle since its commencement, and Chancellor of the Chautauqua University, will be present and give two lectures. Others who have had wide experience in literary pursuits will give their counsels on the ways of spending time most profitably in reading and study for the people.

Among the lecturers engaged are: The Rev. R. R. Meredith, D.D., of Boston; the Rev. O. H. Tiffany, D.D., of New York City; the Rev. Robert Nourse, of Washington, D. C., and the Rev. H. M. Ladd, D.D., of Cleveland, O.

A course of musical instruction will be given by Prof. J. E. Platt. Prof. W. F. Sherwin will give a lecture and conduct concerts.

OTTAWA, KANSAS.

By the time that this reaches the readers of The Chautauquan the Inter-State Assembly of Kansas and Missouri will be in session at its home in Forest Park, in the city of Ottawa, Kansas. No other assembly is entertained with such hospitality, for the people of Ottawa throw open to it their public park, in the limits of their city, on the banks of the historic Marais du Cygne, “The Swamp of the Swan,” celebrated by Whittier’s pen in the border days of Kansas. Among the orators whom they expect to hear are many whose names are well known to all Chautauquans, as Wallace Bruce, Dr. Henson, Robert Nourse, Dr. Tiffany, Sau Ah-brah, and our own Chancellor, Dr. Vincent. Indeed, it will be quite a transplanting of the Chautauqua Idea to the western prairie, for as at “the Mecca of us all,” we shall hold daily a Round-Table; the Commencement service will be fulfilled, the Chancellor will deliver the address to the graduating class and confer the diplomas of the C. L. S. C.; Prof. Sherwin will wave the baton before the chorus on the platform; Prof. Holmes will teach the Normal class; Sculptor Spring will instruct the class in clay modeling; and the general Superintendent of Instruction will be Dr. J. L. Hurlbut.

Last year, the C. L. S. C. interest showed a great increase. In 1883, the number of C. L. S. C. members who clasped hands around the camp-fire was twenty. In 1884, it was nearly ninety, and if we could count those who joined before the close[605] of the Assembly it would reach a hundred. We look for twice as many on Tuesday evening, June 30, when we expect to be entertained with stereopticon pictures of “Sights and Insights at Chautauqua” by the Rev. O. S. Baketel, of New Hampshire, and at the close of the lecture, march in procession to the camp-fire, and sing and talk together. We expect also a great day on July 1st, which is given to the “Grand Army of the Republic.” Perhaps no other State went into the war with quite the enthusiasm of Kansas; certainly no other has as large a proportion of veterans settled within its borders. Every year the Assembly recognizes these old heroes, and “Old Soldiers’ Day” always draws a multitude. We shall have a concert of war songs in the morning, and a lecture by General O. O. Howard, U. S. A., in the afternoon, when the Governor of Kansas is expected to preside.

No gathering in Kansas is complete without a Temperance meeting, for Kansas is the banner State in constitutional prohibition. Let it be said, all stories to the contrary notwithstanding, that there is no defection in the ranks of the prohibition army, and no retreat. The cause is as strong as ever, and no one thinks of rescinding or re-submitting the Amendment. We hold “Temperance Day” on July 2, when Dr. Philip Krohn and Col. Geo. W. Bain will speak, and various conferences on different aspects of the work will be held.

The Ottawa Assembly extends a welcome to all Chautauquans who may enter its gates, and gives its assurance that they will find themselves at home.

MOUNTAIN LAKE PARK, MARYLAND.

This delightful summer resort is situated on the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad, in Garrett County, Maryland. It is 2,800 feet above sea level, in the midst of sublime scenery. The place itself is enough to attract all lovers of the true, the beautiful, and the good, but besides the feast for the eyes and lungs, there is a feast of reason and a flow of soul prepared to profit, entertain, and inspire the hosts who gather to the Assembly.

The principal lecturers are Prof. H. L. Baugher, D.D., of Pennsylvania College; the Rev. G. W. Miller, D.D., of Philadelphia; the Rev. C. P. Marsden, D.D., of St. Louis; the Rev. Z. Warner, D.D., of Parkersburg, West Virginia; the Rev. N. L. Reynolds, of Mt. Pleasant, Pa.; the Rev. J. B. Van Meter, D.D., of Baltimore; J. B. Phipps, Esq., Secretary of Maryland Sunday-school Union and author of pictorial designs for the Berean Lesson Periodicals.

“Thorough Normal Work” is the motto of Mountain Lake Park Assemblies. The Assembly Normal Union course of study will be pursued during the session, and diplomas awarded on Normal Union day, August 19th.

The C. L. S. C. Department was organized two years ago, and Monday, August 17th, has been set apart to this interest. A lecture on “Self-help” will be delivered by the Rev. J. T. Judd, A.M., of Lewisburg, Pa., president of the circle, with special C. L. S. C. exercises. Round-tables, vesper services, class unions, and camp-fires will be enjoyed during the Assembly session.

New Testament Greek will be made a specialty. The Rev. C. E. Young, of Baltimore, instructor.

Geology will receive the attention of the Rev. N. L. Reynolds, who inspires enthusiasm in this noble study.

Elocution classes will be formed as last year, and Amateur Photography will be the pleasant recreation of lovers of the art.

The Assembly meets August 6th and closes August 19th. For further information address the Rev. W. Maslin Frysinger, D.D., Baltimore, Md., or the Rev. Jesse B. Young, Harrisburg, Pa.

ROUND LAKE, NEW YORK.

The management of the Round Lake, N. Y., Sunday-school Assembly sends greetings to its hosts of old friends and to many others whom it hopes to make warm friends in the near future. The last year was one of the best in its history. Numbers, meetings, speakers, work and workers, influence and the divine blessing, all combined, made it a power for good, wide-felt and lasting. It is the aim to make the coming Assembly better than ever. They have planned on the same generous breadth and scope of the last season, and are confident their work will merit approval.

The program already completed is full and rich and varied. On July 9th and 10th there will be a reunion of chaplains and soldiers. The meeting is most vigorously planned for. There will be a large gathering of the old soldiers; Col. G. A. Cantine will act as Grand Marshal. Gen. John A. Logan has been secured as speaker. The Sunday-school Assembly will hold a longer session this season than ever. Beginning July 14th, it will continue fourteen days, and each day will be packed with varied and most profitable exercises. They have a larger variety of specialties than formerly, viz.: French, German, Painting, Drawing, Clay Modeling, Oratory, Vocal Music, Kindergarten, Calisthenics, Phonography, etc., etc.

On C. L. S. C. day, Tuesday, July 21st, Dr. John H. Vincent, the originator of the Idea and developer of its plans and inspirer of its growing work, will be present and address the graduating class, who will pass the “golden gate” and from his hand receive their well-earned diplomas.

The following is a partial list of the lecturers: The Rev. J. H. Vincent, D.D., the Rev. John P. Newman, D.D., the Rev. H. A. Buttz, D.D., the Rev. S. W. Dike, A.M., the Rev. A. D. Vail, D.D., the Rev. Geo. L. Taylor, D.D., the Rev. I. J. Lansing, A.M., Prof. J. L. Corning, the Rev. D. H. Snowden, the Rev. C. C. McCabe, D.D., Senator James Arkell.

The Trustees, with great care and cost, have given special attention to every part of the grounds, draining, cleansing and beautifying, rendering the grounds, if possible, more healthful than ever.

Never was this “charming spot of nature and art” more beautiful and health-inspiring than to-day! Never was it more sought for as a Family Summer Home than this spring.

MONONA LAKE, WISCONSIN.

The Sunday-school Assembly at Monona Lake, Madison, Wisconsin for 1885, will hold its session from July 28th to August 7th. The specialties are: Music, Prof. Sherwin; Grand Chorus of 300 voices; Goshen Band and Orchestra; Sunday School Normal; Children’s Class. Some of the speakers are: Bishop R. S. Foster, Wallace Bruce, Miss L. M. Von Finkelstein, the Rev. George C. Lorimer, D.D., Prof. William I. Marshall, Prof. W. C. Richards, Ph.D., the Rev. O. C. McCulloch, D.D., the Rev. D. Read, D.D., the Rev. G. H. Ide, D.D., Meigs Sisters Vocal Quartette, C. F. Underhill reader.

WASECA, MINNESOTA.

The Assembly at Maplewood Park, Waseca, Minnesota, opens June 30th, and continues in session until July 10th.

Thursday, July 9th, will be Chautauqua day, and on that day a public recognition service of the graduating class will be held. There will be an address suitable to the occasion, and the recognition service as used at Chautauqua will be used here. In the evening there will be a camp-fire.

The names of Prof. H. B. Ridgeway, D.D., the Rev. Frank Bristol, Miss L. M. Von Finkelstein, the Rev. C. A. Van Huda, D.D., and the Rev. J. F. Chaffee, D.D., are found in the list of lecturers. No one has visited Maplewood Park without feeling that Nature has done her part in providing here a delightful retiring place for tired people and for those who are in danger of becoming so.

A dense grove rises forty or fifty feet above the lake. The lake itself is a beautiful sheet of water, around which is a magnificent carriage drive. All so quiet that the busy world seems shut out, while all Nature seems to say, “Come and rest.”

Besides, there are the attractions of the Assembly, calling the mind into new channels and awakening new thoughts and[606] kindling new and noble desires for intellectual and moral improvement.

The time at which the meetings are to be held this year has been selected, with special reference to the convenience of the people.

Bro. Gillet, superintendent of the Assembly, never needs an introduction to the Northwest. He will make the occasion one of lasting good to the interests he represents.

MAINE CHAUTAUQUA UNION.

Arrangements are being made by the officers of the Maine Chautauqua Union for a grand meeting at Fryeburg, to begin July 27th, 1885, and to continue one week. The grounds at Martha’s Grove are being put in order and beautified by Mrs. Nutter, the prime mover in this matter, and everything will be done for the comfort and enjoyment of all Chautauquans who visit this lovely spot. There is soon to be erected on the grounds a “Hall in the Grove,” after the style of the one at Chautauqua.

The program for this season is an attractive one and will consist of illustrated lectures, vocal and instrumental music, essays and readings. Some part of each day is to be devoted to the Round-Table, question box, discussions and reports of circles. As a result of our meeting last year, circles have sprung up all over the State. In Portland alone, there are three hundred Chautauquans where there were only nine last year.

EDITOR’S OUTLOOK.

VICTOR HUGO.

The greatest of the French writers of this century has passed away from earth, after eighty-three years of a life which was, like Carlyle’s, full of work to the very end. Victor Hugo’s greatness is difficult to measure at this hour; we are too near to know whether this is an Alp or only a hill. That it has attracted the attention, the admiration, the homage of mankind for half a century would seem to mean that this was one of the three or four great lives of the nineteenth century. Victor Hugo came of a union of aristocratic and plebeian blood. His father’s tribe had been of the nobles since 1531; his mother was the daughter of a seafaring race. The current sketches of his father omit the most dramatic incident of Colonel Hugo’s career. We refer to his long chase and final capture of Fra Diavalo—the brigand hero of the opera which bears his name. In the whole history of brigandage in South Italy, there is no more exciting and romantic story than that of his hunt and capture of the “Friar-Devil” by the father of Victor Hugo. In the blood of the poet the plebeian mother triumphed at length over the Monarchist father, and Victor Hugo’s pen has rendered the Republicanism of France more valuable service than his father’s sword gave to the Napoleonic crown.

His genius was fortunate in the poverty which compelled him to work for bread, and the banishment which in 1853 threw him into exile, and again forced him to take up the severe literary labor which brought forth “Les Miserables” in 1862. This son of the aristocracy might have lived a life with out fruit if he had not abandoned the ideals of his father for those popular sympathies which made him the most dangerous enemy of Napoleon III. The change in his views came slowly. He was a Royalist under Louis Phillippe, and that king created him a peer of France in 1845. It was not until 1849 that he changed his political attitude, and he was then forty-seven years of age—so that he divided his life pretty evenly between the aristocratic and popular causes. His works show the influence of his political thoughts, and the differences between the earlier and later are very marked. The earlier works gave him the ears of the great world; the later won him the hearts of the people. Whether in prose or in verse, all that he ever wrote was poetry. His later prose is a collection of poems of human aspirations. It is idle to seek in them any system, they are emotion rather than thought; but the emotion is the throbbing of the universal human heart. He believed in God and in man. He rejected the religion of his people less under the stress of conviction than through the force of his hostility to the organized human world in which he saw men suffering. It was not his office to resolve the riddles of human pain; it was his to gather men’s tears into God’s bottle. It may be called a one-sided life; but it was on that side where great lives are too seldom found. It may be said that emotion is blind, passionate, dangerous, as Frenchmen have abundantly proved; but it is still true that the emotion which rouses men from lethargy is necessary to beneficent change, and that even though the wail of human misery must go up forever, we must honor the great souls who seek solutions of the mystery of evil in a happier ordering of human society. We need not become socialists to reverence Victor Hugo’s socialistic philanthropy. Its aim was high, and it has its great uses. Though only God’s bottle be large enough to hold the tears of his children, it is a noble poetry which considers the sorrows of the earth and seeks to pour the sunshine or hope into the low valleys of humanity. Hugo’s way may be the wrong way—probably it is—but it is good for men to hold fast the hope that there is some way through the sea to the promised land. There is a desert beyond the sea; but somehow we shall cross the desert into the Canaan of humanity.

It is, therefore, as a poet of the sorrows and aspirations of our race that we shall most profitably think of Victor Hugo. He was somewhat too French in spirit to be a poet of mankind; he was too egotistic to be on the heights of his human song; he would have been greater if his knowledge of Jesus of Nazareth had been deeper, and his imitation of him perfect in the measure of his great capacity; he would have left something unsaid which wounded men whose purpose was as high as his own, if he had been more Christian and less Hugoist. But why do we ask all things of all men? Victor Hugo did a great work in his own great way. A dangerous socialism has temporarily profited by his denunciations of society, but in the end of the account it will probably appear that he has advanced Christian socialism by the uplift he has given to human aspirations. Men are not so willing to go back to the fleshpots of Egypt, not so much in danger of leaving the bones of the whole race in the desert, more anxious to move on to their promised land.

THE REVISED OLD TESTAMENT.

It required fifty years of the Elizabethan age to introduce that revision of the English Bible which has so long been the standard edition of the Holy Scriptures in our tongue. It would be strange if the revision of that standard Bible which has just been completed were to come into immediate and general use. The New Testament revision met with a harsh reception from the critics of conservative temper; and it certainly has some defects, though the sense of the original is more obvious, to use the mildest term, in the new than in the older revision. The revised Old Testament has consumed fourteen years of the labor of the English and American committees, and the most obvious fact is that it is a more conservative piece of work than the revised New Testament. The committees probably profited by the buffetings of their New Testament revision brethren; but they had a simpler task, since they[607] had not to settle the text of the original Hebrew, whereas the Greek text of the New Testament is still a battle ground of criticism. After all, however, the two revisions constitute one “revised Bible,” and must stand or fall together. The general judgment may probably run to the effect that the New Testament is revised too much and the Old too little. There is a special defect, however, in the New Testament English—it is not idiomatic, and it is not always intelligible. There is a rumor that it will be re-revised into harmony with the conservatism which characterizes the new Old Testament. It is not to be overlooked that there are various demands made upon a revision. Those who most earnestly desire one have in view a more plain and understandable text for popular use. Wycliffe’s great thought, “a Bible understonden of the people,” is their desire. But the literary demands upon the revisers exclude intelligibility by the people as a governing rule. This group of demands defies the skill of any revision committee. They ask for improvements; but they object to any changes. The Bible as an Elizabethan classic is their admiration and they seem not to be willing that the people should have any other Bible. There would seem to be ample room for both revisions; let the literary people have their English of 1611, while the people have English of this century. We are not yet, however, sufficiently advanced in the thinking which revision requires to qualify even the critics among us to distinguish between a classic text for scholars and a plain text for the millions. A modern English Bible will come by and by; we can afford to wait, and meanwhile to study the fruits of the labors of a Revision Committee loaded down with a great weight of conservative environments. For it is not the classicist alone who stands guard over the old English text; conservative theologians regard that old text as too sacred to be modernized, and distrust modernizing as involving changes in the moral and religious influence of the Bible upon mankind. The intelligibility of the Bible is not, to such thinkers, a leading requisite; reverence for its mysteries ranks all other considerations. We are probably outgrowing this view of Holy Scripture; but it is an opinion strong enough yet to keep utterly dead English locutions in the revised Old Testament of 1885. This conservatism is much stronger in England than in this country; the American Committee desired to substitute modern for obsolete words.

That any changes have been made under such respectable and imposing auspices is a great gain to Christian knowledge. The thing is done; the grand old text has been subjected to a revision. It is quite possible that we are entering an age of biblical revision; and it should be remembered that the Bible of 1611 closed an age of revision. It was the last in a series of revisions, each of which contributed to the perfection of the English text. We can not be content with an English Bible which employs which for who, wist for knew, earing for plowing and ouches for settings. The American Committee was thoroughly right in desiring to use modern words in these and other cases. If any revision is to stand, it must contain such modifications of the old text. A satisfactory English text can not be attained so long as the English Christians insist upon retaining archaic forms of such insignificance as the foregoing; there must be an agreement to make an English text on Wycliffe’s principle of popular intelligibleness, before a revision can be of very high utility. The present revision breaks the ice; we have begun; some time or other we shall go on to the logical conclusion of the movement—a modern English Bible for all who use our mighty speech. The assent of the conservative to a single change concedes the principle of revision; his assent to many changes prepares the way for all that are necessary to the modernizing of the Book of Books.

SUMMER HEALTH AND PLEASURE.

The summer is looked forward to with eager desire and it is dismissed without regret by the residents of the temperate zone. The explanation lies partly, if not mainly, in our defective adaptation of ourselves to the hot season. Charles Lamb once wrote, “The summer has set in with its usual severity.” The wit covers a truth; we adjust ourselves so imperfectly to the heated term that we suffer from the high temperature. The art of living must include devices and cautions through which we get the good and shun the evil of each season. Men are slowly learning that to “enjoy life” on this planet one must pay the same price as for liberty—“eternal vigilance.” The summer of the North ought to be our golden time of health and enjoyment. We have the whole of the atmosphere to breathe from—not bits of it let into artificially heated spaces. There is shade for the noonday heats, and the evenings and mornings for exercise and refreshment of muscular energy. But the hot hours are often dangerous and the atmosphere may be poisoned by our own neglect of decaying vegetables or animal matter. We must aim to keep clean and keep all things about us clean; food should be lighter than in winter (less heat-producing); exercise should avoid the hours of fervent heat; the occupations should take a more leisurely pace; the scene of life should, if possible, be shifted for some week or weeks so as to diversify our mental interests and break the dreary monotony of long days spent in one environment of body and soul. The word which describes the art of summer life is moderation; but moderation is not indolence, though there is a natural tendency to drop into the laziness which characterizes barbarian humanity in hot lands. To be healthy and happy one should resist the disposition to be idle. Neither health nor happiness come to lazy people in any desirable measure. The best forms of both depend on activity; but in summer it must be moderate and regular. If, then, one has constant occupation, he should cultivate moderation of interest and exertion, shun the blazing noontide, and take his food as well as his exercise in reduced doses. Too much food, care, exercitation, these are our northern summer dangers. Our civilization is yet very imperfect in this region of art. We have attained to food, clothing, shelter. We do not quite understand how to use them all wisely; but beyond these lie the adjustment of exertion, rest, air, water, electrical and chemical instruments of vitality, and the inner forces of our own being. Happiness is the result of a complex mass of conditions and instruments of life acting upon the spirit and reacted against by the spirit. Our knowledge grows; but while it is growing we have to take for our text moderation, and elaborate the sermon each man for himself.

The great opportunities of the year come to us in summer. Nature is all alive to please and instruct us—to give us the delights of the eye and the inspiration of study. The world has been dressed with infinite art, to afford us a holiday which shall be full of instruction. We need travel to widen our vision of God’s modern Edens dressed by human art. We need an active intelligence, to see and understand the Eden world of summer. But all depends upon our care of our bodies. Health is the condition of all summer pleasures. Is it not strange that we will spend months and years learning how to use lifeless tools, and yet will not spend needed time to learn the management of this vital tool by use of which all happiness comes to us? Let us all try this time to keep the instrument of life in tune for the music of the summer; to make of the season of highest opportunity all there is in it for ourselves. Starting with that selfish purpose, we shall soon find that we need social food, and that here also, “it is more blessed to give than to receive.” Helping others to enjoyment is the healthiest of “health movements;” for no tonic is so spiritually exhilarating as the sight of other people’s happiness which we have made. The man who sends a child out of the city suffocation of summer time has a poor imagination if he can not enjoy the gambols of that child in the country meadows and groves as he never enjoyed a banquet in his own house. Doing as many generous actions as possible is one way to get both health and pleasure out of the summer.

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SCIENCE AND PRACTICAL LIFE.

It is somewhat remarkable that at a time when science is indubitably failing to justify the exalted hopes of those who looked to it for a solution of the deepest questions of being, it is enlarging our sense of its value to practical every-day life. The mystery of the molecule is insoluble, but the usefulness of chemistry is rapidly increasing. Professor W. Mattieu Williams proposes to use maltose as a cooking agent to produce foods which are both more palatable and more easily digested. Those who attend the cooking school at Chautauqua this summer will probably learn how this work is to be done, and what results will follow. The theory sprang out of attempts to feed cattle on malted grain. It was found to be too expensive for cattle, and also hardly necessary, because cows have good digestive apparatus. Human beings have impaired digestion, and can afford more expensive food than the beasts have need of. The maltose cooking carries graniverous foods up into an advanced stage of nutritive condition, lessens the labor of weak stomachs, and tickles dull palates with new flavors. There is no near limit to the possible fruits of this thought. The chemist may render us incalculable services along this line. We have suffered something from the chemistry of men who adulterate our food; it is a comfort to know that the good uses of chemistry are coming forward to render us most valuable compensations.

It is a matter of course that in this field we shall often be disappointed; but so many solid gains are secured that we shall readily excuse some fanciful experiments. In lighting public streets and buildings, electricity has made it possible to turn night into day; chemical studies have perfected the grinding of flour; a hundred more of small and great practical advances in scientific living are secure. We shall go on. It is very noticeable that the conveniences of modern life have triumphed in unexpected ways over natural difficulties. The zone of comfort for human life has been widened toward the pole and toward the equator. The gains are more slowly harvested southward; any reader who feels the languor of this season will know why we do not march so triumphantly toward the equator as we do toward the north pole. Moral energy is in larger demand, as we go south, to resist the tendency to idleness. The north wind puts spurs into us and whips us into action. We shall therefore find the northward limit of vigorous life before we find the south boundary of it. And naturally our science, invention and discovery bear upon cold rather than heat. We have the means now of living in higher latitudes, in full moral and mental activity, than were good for body or brain a hundred years ago. We know how to build for warmth in zero weather, and we have cheap fuel and cheap light for the frosts and the dark of the North.

An enthusiastic writer says that natural gas is to be the fuel of the immediate future—the next fuel. We have as yet found it only here and there on the earth; but we are not done searching for it. Imagine, then, that we have found this gas all round the shores of Hudson’s Bay, and calculate the consequences. A new Mediterranean is opened in a region which has always been reckoned uninhabitable. Poets and philosophers flourish far up toward Doctor Warren’s original Eden! For what but a cheap and abundant fuel and light is needed to make possible a large and flourishing empire around Hudson’s Bay? Migration, which is said to move on parallel lines, has been trending northward for twenty-five years. The wheat fields of America are a hundred and fifty miles nearer the pole than they were fifty years ago. The Dakota and British Northwest which we were willing to leave to the Indians fifty years ago, are eagerly coveted for the plow of the wheat farmer. We are undeniably moving north; the limit of that movement will be fixed for us by devices, discoveries, sciences, which will enlarge our fields toward the eternal ice—on principles similar to those which have already extended our domain in that direction. For several generations the silk grown in Lombardy has been packed on the backs of horses or in carts and transported across the Alps to be spun and woven in Switzerland. Why should not our cotton travel by sea to the shores of Hudson’s Bay to be spun and woven? Give them power, heat and light in one natural agent, and the people of the American Mediterranean might excel in any industry. And in default of natural gas, who will now dare to say that the chemist may not solve the problem in a more intellectual way than by the use of the drill? We write here only of a possible expansion of the human domain by the services of science.

A more practicable matter is that the age of steam, out of which, into something better, we are probably to pass at a day not distant, has been a very prodigal one. Waste is its great fault. It wastes three fourths of the coal it consumes; it therefore wastes infinite sums of human energy. It wastes everything, nature and man, the streams, the forests, the vitality and the hopes of men. Its motto is concentration. It herds human beings in towns; it makes transit laborious and long. The age of economies has begun, and new agents, such as electricity and gas, have for their mottoes disperse and distribute. It is probably not extravagant to say that mankind are wasting every week enough of natural bounties to sustain them for a month, perhaps for a year. If science, then, shall only barely help us to the economic use of all natural bounties, it will have enriched human life (for the mass of mankind) at least four-fold. It will probably be well for us if this enrichment comes gradually and is preceded by a moral preparation for the use of abundance. We have never, as a race, been good enough to be safely rich. We have no poets from the equatorial regions. It may be many generations before we are good enough to grow philosophy and high bred cattle in the torrid zone. Perhaps we do not any where keep up in moral training with the march of science.

THE COURSE OF READING FOR 1885-86.

The student about to enter college has scarcely a pleasanter task than that of examining the course he is about to begin. The prospect of future achievements, how fascinating it is! That Livy which he has heard discussed by learned seniors and professors will soon be his property, too. The problems that are historical among his big brothers and cousins, and sisters as well, sometimes, he will soon grapple with. Whole fields of unknown literature and science and art open to him in his brief glance. He enjoys familiarizing himself with the names of the authors of the text-books, in marking among the elective studies his choice, in looking up the old text-books in the library, in preparing note-books for the next year, in picking up random bits of information. Getting ready for his college course often becomes quite as engrossing as the actual work. The C. L. S. C. student will experience this same interest in looking over what he is going to do another year. The course is now ready, and he will have the entire summer for contemplating his coming conquests. Enjoy the prospect to the full; it is certainly a goodly one. The bone and sinew of next year’s course is to be Roman History and Literature. The place Greece and its men filled in the course of 1884-85 will be taken by Rome. While the subject is equally interesting, the course of the coming year has one great advantage. Greece has no modern history of particular importance, its heroes died with Corinth’s destruction, its literature and art and philosophy faded with its loss of patriotism. Where Rome stood, now Italy stands. The history of the decadence of Roman rule and the growth of Italian freedom is one of the most thrilling chapters in the world’s history. A literature, an art, and a science belong to this new growth. In studying Rome’s life we have a modern chapter that keeps up our interest. The course happily provides for us papers on “Modern Italy” and “Italian Biography,” in addition to the works on the History of Rome, the “Preparatory Latin Course in English,” the “College Latin Course in English,” and “A Day in Ancient[609] Rome.” A practical turn is given to the work by a study of the relations of Rome to modern history.

The more general work of the course is selected from the wide fields of philosophy, science, art and religion. Dr. Geo. M. Steele has prepared a work on “Political Economy,” which will furnish some of the liveliest reading for the year. This subject will be supplemented by two series of papers on “Parliamentary Practice” and “International Law,” to be published in The Chautauquan.

Robert Browning in “Pomegranates from an English Garden” will be the representative of English poetry. It will be seen that, as in the case of Robert Browning’s poems, several studies are introduced to brighten the more solid work; for this purpose we have “In His Name,” by Edward Everett Hale, read in connection with a book by Dr. Townsend on “The Bible and the XIXth Century,” and a series of studies, to appear in The Chautauquan, on “God in History.”

One work which will be a real treat to everybody is “Studies in Human Nature,” by Dr. Lyman Abbott. The additional readings in The Chautauquan are: “Wars and Rumors of Wars To-day,” “The Age we Live In,” “Religion in Art,” “Art Outlines,” “Studies in Mathematics,” “Moral Philosophy,” studies on “How to Live,” by Edward Everett Hale, papers on the past, present and future of electricity, and “Home Studies in Physical Geography.” A better course has never been presented to the members of the C. L. S. C.

EDITOR’S NOTE-BOOK.

The July issue of The Chautauquan closes the fifth volume of the magazine. In October the sixth volume will begin. The outlook for The Chautauquan for 1885-86 is much brighter than ever before. We shall offer our friends a much improved magazine. The place of The Chautauquan will be taken in the summer by the Assembly Herald. The Herald for 1885 will contain full reports of the work of the Assembly for the summer. A glance at the elaborate program printed in this impression will convince the reader of the value of a paper containing such a course of lectures as that of the Chautauqua platform. Besides the lectures many suggestive and useful reports will be printed, which members of the C. L. S. C. in particular will find helpful. Those who may wish to subscribe for both The Chautauquan and Herald will find it profitable to take advantage of our COMBINATION OFFER, found in another column of this impression.

The war rumors of a month ago have subsided almost as quickly as they were aroused. The cries of “On to Khartoum” and “Smash the Mahdi” have died out. Instead of running the frontier below the Soudan, the English have been content to fix it at Wady Halfa. After all the excitement over Afghanistan, peace has been established between Russia and England. The Americans, most of them, have come home from Panama. Riel has been captured. The comparatively easy settlement of misunderstandings between nations is our best hope for the future. Each new victory of arbitration over “bad blood,” even if it be at the sacrifice of a little of our pride and possessions, is so much of a stride toward the millennium.

For the third time Mr. James Russell Lowell has been called upon to speak in Westminster Abbey. This time at the unveiling of the bust of the poet Coleridge. In summing up his remarks he said: “Whatever may have been his faults and weaknesses, he was the man of all his generation to whom we should most unhesitatingly allow the distinction of genius, that is, of one authentically possessed from time to time by some influence that made him better and greater than himself. If he lost himself too much in what Mr. Pater has admirably called ‘impassioned contemplation,’ he has at least left us such a legacy as only genius, and genius not always, can leave. It is for this that we pay him this homage of memory.”

A series of statistics most suggestive to those interested in the temperance question have of late been published. According to this table there was drunk in the United States twenty-five years ago over 86,000,000 gallons of spirituous liquor, while now, with a population almost doubled, the consumption is decreased by about 15 per cent. To balance this comes in the enormous consumption of light liquors, nearly six times as great as in 1860. But it must be remembered that a large proportion of the latter is consumed by the foreign element introduced since 1860.

The tragic fate of the town of Plymouth, Pennsylvania, is one more melancholy example of the result of breaking Nature’s laws. There is no doubt but that an epidemic of typhoid fever is a crime traceable to somebody’s neglect. In Plymouth the refuse from a house situated at the head of the stream which supplied the village with drinking water was allowed to poison the water. This outrageous state of affairs is to be seen in many other towns, and in parts of our cities. If after Plymouth’s suffering a repetition occurs in any part of the country, public sentiment ought to be strong enough to hunt down and punish the guilty authorities that will hold human life and God’s law so lightly.

There is one sure way of securing sanitary reform in every city or town with dilatory health board or indifferent council. Arouse the women. The Ladies’ Health Protection Society, of New York City, has done work in that community during the past six months, before which its large Board of Health seemed perfectly helpless. If cleanliness and purity are not to be secured by the civil authorities, there is no more suitable public work for women than to constitute themselves the guardians of the health of their home towns.

At the recent commencement of the Union Theological Seminary, of New York, the alumni association elected as president an Indian of pure Choctaw blood, now a pastor in the Indian Territory. His son was a member of the graduating class of this year. We are growing broader.

The position that Mr. Phelps will take at the Court of St. James has been agitating the English correspondent of one of our great dailies. He finds that being a minister merely, Mr. Phelps must come in among the ministers, after all the seven ambassadors; and that, alas! he will be literally at the foot of this class of twenty-three. Ministers take social rank according to the length of time they have held their positions, so Mr. Phelps and the stars and stripes trot along after Guatemala and Columbia and Siam and Hayti.

The teachers who tried Chautauqua last summer for their vacations, found the spot so suitable for their uses, so delightful for recreation, that they have spread abroad the rumor of her beauty, and in July of the coming summer two State Teachers’ Associations—that of Ohio and that of New York—will meet there.

There are very few people unfamiliar with law and its phrases, who have not been bewildered over the complicated expressions and seemingly useless repetitions found in almost all documents. This “iteration in law” has lately been made the subject of some interesting computations by David Dudley[610] Field. By his counting every deed contains 860 superfluous words, and every mortgage 1,240. The people of New York State, he calculates, pay every year $100,000 for the recording of useless words. The next reform in law should be rhetorical.

Mr. John Ruskin, of Oxford, and Prof. J. Rendel Harris, of Johns Hopkins, have resigned their professorships in their respective universities because, it is stated, vivisection is practiced in the institutions. There is no reason in such hyper-sympathy. The abuse of vivisection is quite probable, but that does not lessen the force of the fact that vivisection has done much to alleviate human misery, and will in the future undoubtedly do more. The question is, if man or beast must suffer, which life is the more precious.

Houghton Farm, the headquarters of the Chautauqua Town and Country Club, has an interesting history. Several years ago 1,000 acres of land lying about nine miles from Newburgh, N. Y., were purchased by a Mr. Valentine as an experimental farm. About thirty buildings, adapted to every kind of farm work, were erected; the best of stock, the most skillful laborers were secured. The farm soon became a kind of educational institution. Farmers were invited to inspect its work, and to listen to lectures from the learned managers; children had days set apart for their enjoyment. Orange county has been educated by the Houghton Farm. Now its generous hearted proprietor has extended the work by opening its advantages to all those who will join the Chautauqua Town and Country Club.

The strange fascination lurking in dangerous feats which so powerfully affects some minds, was never more forcibly manifested than in the case of Robert E. Odlum, who jumped from the Brooklyn bridge not long ago. For some time the thought had been a passion with him, and although the police were watching to prevent the attempt, he escaped their vigilance and took the fatal leap. His body was three and one-fourth seconds in making the descent of 140 feet, thus corroborating almost exactly the law of falling bodies. He breathed only a few times after he was picked up, being inwardly literally “mangled to death.” His is only one more name added to the list of those who, by their folly, may teach others lessons of wisdom, and so, perhaps, have not died utterly in vain.

Although war-like preparations have ceased in the Soudan, and no more troops are to be transported thither to help “smash the Mahdi,” the railroad across the desert is progressing slowly but surely. The correspondent of the Times telegraphs the following: “The construction of the railway is a curious and interesting sight. In advance is a picket of cavalry, while far off on either side the videttes scout in the bush. At the immediate head of the line is a battalion of infantry echeloned, and advancing as the rails are laid. Streams of coolies carry the sleepers from the trucks, and teams of four artillery horses drag up the rails, two at a time, to the navvies, who lay them in a twinkling, and drive the spikes. In the rear are gangs who complete the line, and further back the ballasting parties.”

Visitors to Niagara Falls this summer will enjoy their trip as never before. Everything that tends to mar the beauty of the natural scenery is to be removed, and after July 15th, access to all points of interest is to be free of charge. To bring about this happy consummation which during so many long years past has been devoutly wished by all right-thinking men, required a long and hard-fought battle against willful ignorance and greed of gain.

General Gordon’s “Life and Letters,” recently published, prove him to have one accomplishment of rare beauty and usefulness, but too often nowadays neglected. He was a good letter writer, and that under circumstances the most trying. Here is the picture his biographer draws of the surroundings under which many of his letters were written: “The temperature is over 100°; the ink dries on the pen before three words are written; books curl, as to their backs; mosquitoes are busy at the ankles under the table, and the hands and wrists above; prickly heat comes and goes. How one realizes, for instance, the whole scene in the over-wakeful traveller’s night: ‘I am writing in the open air by a candle-lamp, in a savage gorge; not a sound to be heard. The baboons are in bed in the rocks.’” The letters which the most of us write under the most favorable circumstances are limited to the narrowest space possible. What we would do in Gordon’s place it is difficult to say.

The most beautiful celebration of the month of June is Children’s day. With every season Protestant churches give more time and money to their preparations for it, and it bids fair to take rank in importance with Christmas and Easter. Certainly no day comes at a season when it is more easy to decorate, it being the very heyday of the flower season, and no cause is more worthy our efforts than the children’s.

An important discussion has been going on for a few weeks in the New York papers, concerning the advisability of closing the dry goods stores on Saturday afternoons. Clerks have no day for recreation or for improvement except Sabbath. The same is true of nearly all classes of laboring people. The result is that the Sabbath, instead of being a day of religious rest, is turned into one of pleasure, and often of extra work. A half holiday would enable busy workers to prepare for Sabbath. It is a reform in the arrangement of time that is worthy the attention of Christian people particularly.

There is a capital hint in the following story, told by a lady prominent in mission school work in one of our large cities: “We had some of our Chinese pupils at a church sociable a few nights ago, and we had at supper some candies which are rolled up in paper with printed couplets inclosed—some of them extremely silly. The Chinese boys read them and looked surprised, but were too polite to say anything. Soon afterward they gave an entertainment, and the same sort of candies were provided; but when we unrolled the papers we found they had taken out the foolish verses and had substituted texts of Scripture printed on little slips of paper.”

Here are a few of M. Bartholdi’s interesting figures about his great Statue of Liberty: “The forefinger is 96½ inches in length, and 56½ inches in circumference at the second joint. The nail measures 17¾ inches by 10½ inches. The head 13¾ feet in height. The eye is 25½ inches in width. The nose is 44 inches in length. About forty persons were accommodated in the head at the Universal Exposition of 1878. It is possible to ascend into the torch above the hand. It will easily hold twelve persons.” Compared with other colossi it far outstrips them all, being about three times the height of both the statue of Bavaria and of the Virgin of Puy, and about 58 feet higher than the Arminius in Westphalia.

The French Republic would not allow the remains of Victor Hugo to be placed in the Pantheon until that celebrated structure was again secularized. The priests were allowed just forty-eight hours to vacate the sacred precincts which, as a church, they had held uninterruptedly since 1877. This action plainly shows the position of the Republic toward the Church. “French skeptics,” says The Nation, “are not content, like English or German skeptics, with ceasing to go to church.… They insist on proclaiming in every possible way their hostility to the clergy.” The fact that the Pantheon is again restored to its primitive design as “a last resting place for distinguished public men” can but be pleasing to all.

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TALK ABOUT BOOKS.

Among the books belonging to the “Famous Women Series,” the biography of Harriet Martineau[B] takes a leading place. The life of this remarkable woman is written by one whose clear insight into human character, and keen appreciation of that which tends to make it noble and strong, render her eminently qualified for such an undertaking. The style of the book is simple, unadorned, direct. No step has been neglected which could add to the author’s information, or, as she quaintly expresses it, could help her “get touch” with her subject. That Mrs. Miller is something of a hero worshiper is evident from the fact that, with but one or two slight exceptions, she justifies all the facts of the life she relates. The rigor of Harriet Martineau’s early home; the longings of the young girl for freedom from a needless restraint, and the desire to read and study, which led her to steal the time for it in the early morning and late at night, might convey a lesson to many a mother who now insists upon having her daughters follow the conventional methods of living. One can but rejoice in the advanced position women have attained as he reads of Harriet Martineau, the statesman, and sees that she is as thoroughly understood and appreciated in this aspect of her life by her biographer as in the more womanly elements and instincts of her nature, which were never in the least violated by her study of political interests. Excepting the skepticism which marked all the mature years of Harriet Martineau’s life, one finds in her a good type of strong, noble womanhood. Christian readers can but deprecate this fact, and also that it is justified by Mrs. Miller.

A volume of the prose writings of N. P. Willis[C] will be received by the reading public in much the same manner as the work of a new author, so little are they known. His reputation rests almost entirely upon his poems and a few Scriptural sketches, which it seems natural to think of as belonging to the early periods of American literature. It will probably strike most people with a feeling of surprise to recall that his death occurred so recently as 1867, and that he was therefore contemporary with Bryant and Longfellow. Just why this recent oblivion has fallen upon his writings is hard to tell, for the collection in this volume shows that they deserve a better fate. The character sketches are fairly drawn; and the bits of description indicate powers of a high order in this particular. The personality of the author is manifest in all the articles; the reader is conscious of constantly looking through the writer’s eyes. The wild, unchecked bent of his imagination is shown in such pieces as “The Lunatic’s Skate,” and “The Ghost-Ball at Congress Hall,” somewhat resembling the more intense works of Poe. Aptness in illustration, implying a delicate perception of resemblances, and a happy faculty of associating ideas is a marked characteristic. He fails to touch the deeper emotions of one’s nature, and there is a lack of both strength and plot in all he writes. Whether Mr. Beers succeeds in making Willis’s works live or not, he has by his selections and editing, and by his introductory memoir, given to the public a very interesting work.

Perhaps no one ever more perfectly caught the spirit of all things Egyptian than Professor Ebers. The genius of the country which brings under its sway all that comes within its domain, affecting them to such a degree that one can but fancy even the sphynx would be less gloomily impressive in any other land, gained such an influence over him, and so makes itself felt in his books, that it is almost impossible to imagine him otherwise than as a man wrapped round with that somber, mysterious air which constantly hints of the power to reveal things more and more wonderful. From the beginning to the end of Serapis[D] one is conscious of being under some spell that fascinates and charms. The little party introduced at the beginning gives rise to a sense of the vast possibilities hidden away in each life—even that of little Dada, the merry-hearted, seemingly thoughtless, young girl—and the sequel reveals in each one these possibilities realized. The story is laid in the times of the Roman emperor, Theodosius I., and its interest centers in the destruction of the Serapeum, the Alexandrian temple containing the statue of Serapis, the great Egyptian divinity, which was also mutilated and torn down. A description of the races is given in such a way as to render readers virtually eye-witnesses of the scene, and it is with an effort that one keeps himself from rising with the crowd as the decisive moment nears, and shouting in the general frenzy of excitement. The author lacks the power of putting his readers into nearer relation with his characters than that of mere acquaintances, in whose welfare a general sympathetic interest is taken. One prizes the book for its impressive historical facts and beautiful descriptions.

“Troubled Waters”[E] is a novel with a purpose. The question of capital and labor is discussed, and the plan of coöperation is upheld as the key which is to unlock the difficulties thickening fast and threateningly around the business interests of to-day. The dangers lurking in the fact of poorly compensated labor, as it watches the fast increasing gains of capital amassed at its expense, are vividly set forth. In the strike of the Tradelawn mill hands, will be seen a faithful picture of what transpires in many a similar town. The style of the book is vigorous, independent, and clear. The number of persons introduced, and the characterization of some of them, particularly Mr. Thomas Street, reminds one of Dickens. In the web of adverse circumstances enmeshing and ever tightening about the really noble Robert Croft, until he is driven to the very verge of desperation and crime, the greatest power of the author is shown. Of course all ends well, and as one leaves all the hands in the new mills, in which every worker is a stockholder, contented and happy, there remains with him a conviction that coöperation is the right principle.

One of the most attractive of all the books of its kind is “The Chautauqua Birthday Book”[F] just issued. Daintily bound, and containing illustrations of the places so familiar and endeared to all Chautauquans, it can not fail to receive a warm welcome at their hands. The “Prefatory Note” is written by Chancellor J. H. Vincent. The selections made of the best things said by the best authors. As one turns the pages bearing the dates, the eye lights upon the names of many familiar friends, and the pleasing memories that instantly arise make one glad for the happy thought that originated so genial a souvenir.

No undertaking more deserves the thoughtful consideration and hearty support of every community than that of the introduction of a line of classics for children into the public schools. Mr. Ginn has already edited for the use of scholars of from nine to fourteen years of age, a number of very attractive books, among which are “Tales from Shakspere,” by Charles and Mary Lamb, and Scott’s “Tales of a Grandfather.”[G] The original works have been changed very little. A few verbal alterations were required, and the parts beyond the comprehension of a child were omitted. A young boy or girl after reading these editions will have practically the same knowledge that the older acquire from the unabridged works, and they certainly will be equally as much interested in them.

BOOKS RECEIVED.

Valeria. By the Rev. W. H. Withrow. New York: Phillips & Hunt. Cincinnati: Cranston & Stowe. 1885. Price, $1.00.

The Sentence and Word Book. By James Johonnot. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1885.

Vain Forebodings. By E. Oswald. Translated from the German by Mrs. A. L. Wister. Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott Company. 1885. Price, $1.25.

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Pestalozzi’s Leonard and Gertrude. Translated and Abridged. By Eva Channing. Boston: Ginn, Heath & Co. 1885.

Dante. A Rare Collection of Texts, Commentaries, etc., of Dante’s Divina Commedia. Cincinnati: Anton Bicker.

The Meisterschaft System for the Italian Language. By Dr. Richard S. Rosenthal. Part I. Boston: Meisterschaft Publishing Company.

General Gordon: The Christian Hero. By the author of “Our Queen,” “New World Heroes,” etc. New York: Thomas Y. Crowell & Co.

Pulpit and Easel. By Mary B. Sleight. New York: Thomas Y. Crowell & Co.

Hearing and How to Keep It. By Charles H. Burnett, M.D. Philadelphia: P. Blakiston, Son & Co. 1885.

Dogma No Antidote for Doubt. By a member of the New York Bar. Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott Company. 1885.

Catechism on Alcohol. (In German.) By Julia Colman. New York: National Temperance Society. 1885.

Circulars of Information of the Bureau of Education. No. I.—1885. Washington: Government Printing Office.

Planting Trees in School Grounds and the Celebration of Arbor Day. Washington: Government Printing Office. 1885.

The Russian Revolt. By Edmund Noble. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 1885. Price, $1.00.

From the Golden Gate to the Golden Horn. By Henry Frederick Reddall. New York: Phillips & Hunt. Cincinnati: Cranston & Stowe. 1885. Price, $1.25.

CHAUTAUQUA IN JAPAN.

BY WM. D. BRIDGE.

Japan moves to the front, for Chautauqua has taken firm root in Japan. The Chautauqua Idea is an ecumenical idea, and it is the province of this article to show the workings of this idea in Japan during the past six months.

Late in the summer of 1884 Mrs. A. M. Drennan (C. L. S. C. class of ’82), a resident missionary in Japan, at Osaka, entered into correspondence with Chancellor Vincent as to the possibility of translating valuable English materials in the line of the “C. L. S. C.” into the Japanese vernacular. Among the material tracts, papers, etc., sent, was one which she put into the hands of an educated native, well versed also in English, who said on reading it: “If that book can be put into the hands of the young men, Tom Paine and other infidels must leave Japan.”

Chancellor Vincent, on reviewing the necessities of the field, and marking the wondrous developments of that newborn nation, arranged with Mrs. Drennan for the translation of the “Required Reading” in The Chautauquan into Japanese, guaranteeing a prescribed sum per month for expenses of translating for one year.

March 30, 1885, Mrs. Drennan writes: “I wish I could convey to you something of an idea of the enthusiasm in reference to our Chautauqua Society here. In much less than a week after the first advertisement in the papers, our secretary had received nearly three hundred letters of inquiry, and, on application, had given out every one of the first five hundred copies of the ‘Hand-Book.’ A second edition of five hundred was made, and now, in less than a week, only two hundred copies remain.”

The “Hand-Book” referred to is the first number of a magazine, in book form, containing articles from The Chautauquan, viz.: “Mosaics of History,” “Africa,” “Alexander the Great,” “One Hundred Questions,” “World of Science,” and “The Results of the Discovery of America.”

Mr. C. S. Hongma, of Osaka, a native Japanese, President of the “Japanese Literary and Scientific Circle,” writes to Chancellor Vincent, in good English, a letter full of hope, and expressing his delight in aiding to organize the circle, and asking help and prayers for its success.

The laws of Japan require six months’ notice to be given of intention to publish a magazine, and but one month’s notice for publishing a book. The quotations from The Chautauquan are therefore given the book form.

Mrs. Drennan says the natives will pay the expense of advertising the movement in Japanese papers, and will, ere long, pay the cost of translation.

April 13, 1885, Mrs. Drennan writes: “It would take a long letter to tell you the good things about our J. L. S. C. We have just received to-day from the press our third edition of the ‘Hand-Book;’ this makes twenty-five hundred printed. Our secretary is preparing to-night a list of the paid-up members. There have been over three hundred applicants for membership, but only one hundred and fifty have as yet paid all dues. You know there is the house rent (for place of meeting of the local circles), and the fixing up, lights, etc., to give us a comfortable place of meeting. These, with most of the advertising and other expenses, have been met by the members; and with your kind aid for a little while we will have an influence that will spread over this entire land, doing great things for this people. Our secretary has answered over seven hundred letters of inquiry. Applications have come from several cities for the privilege of organizing branch societies.

“The first article in our ‘Hand-Book’ is an editorial by the editor of the largest paper in this part of Japan. He is a very fine writer and highly educated. He is perfectly enthusiastic over the work. It is an argument for this plan, giving his views as to the good it will accomplish in Japan. The second article explains the object and aim of the Society.

“My heart has been thrilled with delight on receiving letters and applications for membership from some soldiers in a distant city. It has been a punishable offense for any teacher of Christianity, or Bible reader, to go into the army or among the soldiers. I thought, if this course of reading spread among them, who can compute its influence, who can tell the result of this silent teacher for Christ!”

The new members are not satisfied with Japanese cards of membership, but are anxious for enrollment at the Central Office of the C. L. S. C., Plainfield, N. J., and for cards of membership from America.

Mrs. Drennan, under date of April 14th, says: “One hundred and seventy-five names of members have just been given me, fifty new names being added last evening. [She sends for three hundred membership cards.] I never saw such an interest created by anything in any country. Oh that God may bless it to the good of this people, and make it a permanent organization for all time! Pray for us.”

That our readers may know of what “stuff” this earnest C. L. S. C. worker is made, I will say that she has charge of a Girls’ School at Osaka, teaches young men three hours per day, teaches a Bible class of young men (twenty-five in number) on Sabbath evenings, and for a year and a half has kept up a Chautauqua circle among the English speaking people and others. In order to secure government permission to publish the Chautauqua literature, permanent resident officers must be chosen; therefore the existing local circle suspended, and was reorganized with such officers as the government will recognize.

One of the members is now translating “Outline Study of Man,” another “Cyrus and Alexander,” and two others are at work on The Chautauquan.

Mrs. Drennan sends an itemized financial statement, showing three eighths of the expenses (total, $66.25) paid by the Japanese to date and five eighths by the Central Office, with the assurance that hereafter the heaviest part will be borne by the enthusiastic natives. God bless a work like this in young Japan, and God bless Mrs. Drennan and her associates!

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PROGRAM OF POPULAR EXERCISES.
TWELFTH SUMMER ASSEMBLY AT CHAUTAUQUA.

Saturday, July 11.

Sunday, July 12.

Monday, July 13.

Tuesday, July 14.

Wednesday, July 15.

Thursday, July 16.

Friday, July 17.

Saturday, July 18.

Excursion to Niagara Falls, at Reduced Rates, for Members of the C. T. R. and C. S. L.

Sunday, July 19.

Monday, July 20.

Tuesday, July 21.

Wednesday, July 22.

Thursday, July 23.

Friday, July 24.

Saturday, July 25.

Excursion to Oil City, Pa.

Sunday, July 26.

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Monday, July 27.

Tuesday, July 28.

Wednesday, July 29.

Thursday, July 30.

Friday, July 31.

Saturday, August 1.

“Mid-Season Celebration.” Excursion to Panama Rocks.

Sunday, August 2.

Monday, August 3.

Tuesday, August 4.

“OPENING DAY.”

Wednesday, August 5.

Thursday, August 6.

Friday, August 7.

“LOOK-UP LEGION DAY.”

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Saturday, August 8.

“C. L. S. C. INAUGURATION DAY.”

Sunday, August 9.

Monday, August 10.

Tuesday, August 11.

Wednesday, August 12.

“DENOMINATIONAL DAY.”

Thursday, August 13.

“ALUMNI DAY.”

Friday, August 14.

“INTERNATIONAL SUNDAY-SCHOOL DAY.”

Saturday, August 15.

Sunday, August 16.

Monday, August 17.

Tuesday, August 18.

Wednesday, August 19.

“C. L. S. C. RECOGNITION DAY.”

Thursday, August 20.

“NATIONAL TEMPERANCE SOCIETY DAY.”

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Friday, August 21.

“ROMAN DAY.”

Saturday, August 22.

“HARVEST AND C. T. C. C. DAY.”

Sunday, August 23.

Monday, August 24.

SPECIAL NOTES.

Readers of The Chautauquan, particularly if they do not expect to visit Chautauqua this summer, will find a very useful and interesting paper in the Assembly Daily Herald. The Herald is the daily chronicler of the proceedings at Chautauqua during the session of the Assembly. Its most important work is to furnish to its readers stenographic reports of all the leading lectures delivered on the platform. More than seventy lectures appear in its columns during the nineteen daily issues of the Herald. Among the lectures of the present season are to be several on Italy. The Tourists Ideal Foreign Tour will be mainly located in Italy. Now, for those who expect to read the C. L. S. C. course of 1885-86 this will be particularly interesting and profitable, as a portion of the course is to be on Italy and its life. A feature to which we would particularly call the attention of readers of the C. L. S. C. is the reports of special meetings and special classes, together with the daily reports of C. L. S. C. news. Much of the best of the C. L. S. C. work and planning is done at the Assembly, so that no one thoroughly interested in the C. L. S. C. can keep abreast of the news of this institution without the Herald. The first issue of Volume X. of the Assembly Herald will be on August 1st, and it will appear daily, Sundays excepted, in nineteen numbers. Its price is $1.00 for the season, or in clubs of five or more, 90 cents. Subscribers to The Chautauquan will find it to their advantage to accept our combination offer until August 1st of The Chautauquan and Assembly Daily Herald for $2.25.

Through the help of the C. L. S. C. Loan Library, a number of students who would otherwise have been obliged to give up their C. L. S. C. studies entirely, have been enabled to continue the course during the past year. These books (about half a dozen sets) will be for sale at reduced rates, at the Plainfield office after July 1st.

Another Chautauqua Idea of great practical importance is out. It has been devised to meet the demand for competent training in phonography. Within the last ten years shorthand writers of ability have become necessary to business offices, courts and editorial rooms. For those young men and women who would fit themselves for the numerous positions open to expert phonographers, the “Chautauqua University” has opened a “College of Phonography.” It is under the direction of W. D. Bridge, A.M., a reporter of nearly thirty years’ experience, who has associated with him F. G. Morris, A.M., one of the most successful and accomplished phonographic teachers in the country. For circulars of the College of Phonography, address the registrar, R. S. Holmes, A.M., Plainfield, New Jersey.

We are in receipt of the finely illustrated catalogues of the church furnishers, Messrs. J. & R. Lamb, of New York City. The designs which they are offering in Metal Work, Stained Glass, Church Upholstery and Church Embroideries are all of them beautiful, many of them unique and original. Churches that are contemplating refurnishing, or are building, can not do better than to send for the Messrs. Lamb’s catalogue. They will get good ideas, if nothing else.

The Chautauquans of Minnesota and the Northwest propose to hold this summer a Chautauqua Assembly of the Northwest. The first step in furtherance of this plan has been taken by the circles of St. Paul and Minneapolis, best situated as they are for united action, and strong in the presence of sixteen circles. On the 15th day of May, an association was formed by representatives from ten of the sixteen circles, to be known as the Central Chautauqua Committee.

The first Assembly will be held at the “Enchanted Island,” a beautiful place in Lake Minnetonka, Hennepin County, Minn., on June 26th. Reduced rates have been obtained on all railroads leading into Minneapolis and St. Paul. Circulars containing programs and full particulars will be sent to all applicants. Let all Chautauquans of the Northwest be present at the “Enchanted Island.” Address E. T. Brandeburg, Secretary, Room 14, Webb Block, Minneapolis, Minn.

Reports from the following local circles have been received at this office too late for the July issue of The Chautauquan: Osceola, Iowa; “Thornapple,” Vermontville, Michigan; “Beta,” Milwaukee, Wis.; “Aryan,” Hope Valley, R. I.; “Vincent,” Needham, Mass.; Jewett City, Conn.; “Springhill,” Morris Cross Roads, Pa.; “King Philip,” Medfield, Mass.; West Winsted, Conn.; Prattsburgh, N. Y.; “The Athenian,” Lanark, Ill.; “Longfellow,” Cambridge, Mass.; “Pansy Quartette,” Oshtemo, Mich.; Brantford, Ontario, Canada. Reports from local circles in the following towns have been forwarded to The Chautauquan from Plainfield, but too late for the July issue: Hope, R. I.; Luverne, Minn.; Rushville, Ill.; Wellington, South Africa; Monroe, Iowa; Jonesville, Mich.; Jacksonville, Ill.; Billerica, Mass.; Charlestown, Mass.; Wabash, Ind.; Amherst, N. H.; Brookville, Ind.; Madison, Conn.; Minneapolis, Minn., from “Highland Park,” “Alden” and “Vincent” circles.