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tudes to which public opinion is liable. It is liable to the action of disturbing causes, which betray it, upon occasions, into wild inconsistencies with itself. The panic produced by an unforeseen catastrophe, the fascination exerted by a brilliant writer or speaker, the apparent coincidence between some suspicion entertained by a long-cherished, perhaps unexamined prejudice, and some trivial discovery or occurrence, these things will sometimes rouse into desperate energy some one element of passion latent in the vast body of general opinion, so that it breaks with all that has hitherto restrained and balanced it, and precipitates a society upon some course of conduct alto

gether at variance with its better antecedents. And this liability of powerful sections of opinion to suffer from the disturbing effects of panic, must needs unfit them for the duties of guides in matters of religious and moral truth. In truth, common opinion is too wanting in patience, in penetration, in delicacy of moral touch and apprehension, to deal successfully, or otherwise than blunderingly and coarsely, with questions like these. It cannot be right

to cry

"Hosanna!" now, to-morrow “Crucify!"

to applaud in Galilee that which is condemned in Jerusalem; to sanction in this generation much which was denounced in that; to" adore what you have burned, and to burn what you have adored," with conspicuous versatility, merely because a large body of human beings the majority of whom, it may be, are quite without particular information on the subject love to have it so. To attempt to please men in this sense, is most assuredly incompatible with the service of Christ.

this specialty. Everybody, we shall be told, is taught, and some few people write well, and consequently to teach people to write well, must be possible. Still, we have this little bit of evidence in favor of hesitation. Nobody ever saw anybody who wrote a thoroughly good hand, and who had been regularly taught to do it. Good handwritings exist, undoubtedly, and are, we should say, rapidly on the increase; but the possessors of the art never admit that they acquired it through teaching, and, in the majority of examined they always affirm that some cases, never were taught. When crossman or woman taught them to write, and that then a certain inclination or compulsion of circumstance, or desire to do everything well, or, in frequent instances, a caste feeling, provoked them to teach themselves to write well. They were not taught except in the most rudimentary sense of the word, and we do not know how they should be. Tutors and governesses have all caught up a system from the professional writing-masters, and the professional writing-masters are all dominated by two ideas, which are radically false. We always glance over the books they publish, and have read through a new one this week, which we do not intend to advertize in this article, and they are all alike. They all think that " copperplate writing," the special hand of writing-masters and bank-clerks, is good writing, which it is not, being devoid of character, far too regular in form, and from the multiplicity of fine upstrokes not easy to read; and they all believe that certain mechanical motions, if carefully taught, will produce clear writing. They will not, and they do not. There never were two people yet in this world of ours who wrote exactly alike, or who have the same control of their fingers, or who ought, in order to produce good writing, to have held their pens alike, and the effort to make them do it only spoils their natural capabilities. No doubt, those capabilities are often naturally very small. WE wonder sometimes, as we wade The number of persons who are by nature through a mass of correspondence, wheth- not deft with their fingers is very large, er it is possible to teach good writing. and so is the number of those who cannot The doubt may seem absurd, consider- fix their attention; while the number of ing that the majority of civilized mankind those who can do nothing well which they can write, that every qualified teacher must do rapidly probably exceeds both. among one or two hundred thousand in The difficulty of teaching a grown man to western Europe thinks himself or herself write decently is almost inconceivable — competent to teach the art, and that there he seems never to see what is wanted — must be some hundreds of men in En- and something of that difficulty attaches gland, or possibly some thousands, who to a vast proportion of children. Still, all make a living of some sort by practising persons not deformed or crippled in the

Take them all in all, we doubt if any two volumes published within the last year have contained more help towards forming a true opinion on the deepest questions that men's minds and hearts can debate, than these two volumes of mere "Sermons," one by a Unitarian thinker, and the other by an academical ecclesiastic of High-Church views.

From The Spectator.

LEARNING TO WRITE.

hand, or deficient in eyesight, can be the world's end. He will make a muddle' taught to write, and the reason why they at first, but he will soon make a passable are not taught properly must be some imitation of his copy, and ultimately inherent defect in the system. We be- develop a characteristic and strong hand, lieve it to be the one we have mentioned, which may be bad or good, but will not the effort to enforce a certain method, be either meaningless, undecided, or illegiinstead of trying to secure a certain ble. This hand will alter, of course, very result. The unhappy child, who is almost greatly as he grows older. It may alter always, we admit necessarily, taught too at eleven, because it is at that age that early, is instructed to hold himself or the range of the eye is fixed, and short herself in a particular attitude, which is sight betrays itself; and it will alter at sure to be the wrong one for five sights seventeen, because then the system of in ten, the proper attitude depending on taking notes at lecture, which ruins most the length of the child's vision; to hold hands, will have cramped and temporarily the pen at a particular angle, which is spoiled the writing; but the character will also wrong, the fitting angle depending form itself again, and will never be defion the character of the pen and holder; cient in clearness or decision. The idea and to grasp the pen at a certain distance that it is to be clear will have stamped from the nib, which is arbitrarily fixed, itself, and confidence will not have been whereas the distance must be governed destroyed by worrying little rules about by the formation and strength of the attitude, and angle, and slope, which the child's fingers, and would be infinitely very irritation of the pupils ought to conbetter left to his or her own instinct. vince the teachers are, from some perAbove all, there is a perpetual worry sonal peculiarity, inapplicable. The lad about the "resting" of the hand, though the easiest position varies with every child, and though no two men with much writing to do rest the fingers quite alike. The pupil is then taught to make lines in a certain direction, and to copy characters so large that they have no resemblance to writing at all; and to care particularly about upstrokes and downstrokes, and all manner of minutiæ, which, if they are of any value at all, will soon come of themselves. So strong, in spite of centuries of experience, is the belief in this method, that machines for controlling the fingers while writing have repeatedly been invented; and the author of a book before us, a professional, is inclined to tie them up in some fashion with

ribbon.

We believe that the whole of this method is a mistake, that there is no single system of mécanique for writing, and that a child belonging to the educated classes would be taught much better and more easily if, after being once enabled to make and recognize written letters, it were let alone and praised or chidden not for its method, but for the result. Let the boy held his pen as he likes, and make his strokes as he likes, and write at the pace he likes - hurry, of course, being discouraged - but insist strenuously and persistently that his copy shall be legible, shall be clean, and shall approach the good copy set before him, namely, a well-written letter, not a rubbishy text on a single line, written as nobody but a writing-master ever did or will write till

will write, as he does anything else that
he cares to do, as well as he can, and with
a certain efficiency and speed. Almost
every letter he gets will give him some
assistance, and the master's remonstrance
on his illegibility will be attended to, like
any other caution given in the curric
ulum. As it is, he simply thinks that
he does not write well, instead of thinking.
that not to write well is to fall short in a
very useful accomplishment and to be pro
tanto a failure.

We are not quite sure that another process ought not to be gone through, before writing is taught at all. Suppose our boys and girls were taught to read manuscript a little? They are taught to read print, but manuscript is not print, or very like it, and they are left to pick up the power of reading that the best way they can; they never devote half an hour a day for six months to manuscript reading. If they did, it would be easier to them all their lives, and they would learn to believe in legibility as the greatest, or, at any rate, the most useful, quality that writing can display,—an immense improvement, if our experience can be trusted, in the usual youthful ideal on the subject. The business of life, no doubt, soon teaches children to read manuscript; but many of them never read it easily, and retain through life an unconquerable aversion to the work, from the fatigue and vexation which it causes them. We have known men so conscious of this defect, that they always have important letters read aloud to them; and others who

one

From The Leisure Hour.

would refuse any work, however anxious | pean usage, salvers of rose-water are on other grounds to accept it, if it in- frequently handed round, the waitingvolved the frequent perusal of long man-maids brought napkins steeped in warm uscripts in varied handwritings. No water, which all the company rubbed over doubt, the tendency to a broad and coarse, their faces apparently with great satisfacbut beautifully legible, handwriting, which tion. The next stage of the entertainhas conquered the upper class and is ment was an hour's lounge, to be occupied slowly filtering downwards, is diminish-in listening to music. A group of players ing this reluctance, but it would be more and singers entered, all pretty young girls, rapidly removed if a little trouble were neatly and modestly attired. Their pertaken to teach children to read handwrit- formance, however, could scarcely have ing. They hardly see any till they begin been more inharmonious; it was hardly to receive correspondence, and are never better than a series of yells, howls, and compelled to read any, and consequently screeches, without rhythm and without learn to write what they cannot read, time. The instruments were a worthy without intelligence and without pleasure. accompaniment to the chorus: wretched violins, of which the strings kept entang ling the bows; harsh guitars covered with snake-skins; shrill clarionets, and harmoniums all out of tune, like diminutive portable pianos. The girls had been conducted into the room by a man who acted as leader of the Charivari. Having handed a programme to the host, and received in return a permission to perform what he chose, he made his orchestra strike up, "The Bouquet of Ten Flowers," a piece at that time enjoying a vast popularity in the fashionable world. This was followed by other pieces of similar character, and at the close of the performances the troop, already handsomely paid, were enthusiastically applauded, and allowed to depart and gain fresh laurels from other audiences. After the concert was over the party rose from their seats, and having interchanged a few ceremonious sentences, passed to another table. Here were laid six covered cups, each embossed with a portrait of Bôdhid-harama, the celebrated Buddhist monk, standing on his legendary wheel. The cups were already full of boiling water, and each member of the party was provided with a pinch of tea, which he put into the cup, without sugar, and at once drank off the infusion. And what tea it was! Europeans would have exclaimed in wonder at its flavor, but these connoisseurs sipped it slowly, with the air of men who duly appreciated its quality. They were all men of the upper class, handsomely attired in hunchaols, a kind of thin shirt, macooals, or short tunics, and haols, long coats buttoned at the side. On their feet were yellow slippers, and openwork socks, met by silk breeches that were fastened round the waist by tasselled scarves; on their chests they wore a kind of stomacher, elaborately embroidered in silk. gant fans dangled from their girdles. JULES VERNE.

A CHINESE BANQUET. As a substitute for table-napkins, every was supplied with a considerable number of squares of paper figured over in various devices. The chairs arranged round the table were made with marble backs, not so luxurious, perhaps, but more suitable to the climate than the padded lounges in general use elsewhere. Nothing could be more perfect, or served in better style, than the entire banquet. The bignon of the district, as if aware that he was catering for connoisseurs, seemed to have been anxious to surpass himself in the preparation of the many dishes that crowded the menu. For the first course were handed sugared cakes, caviare, fried grasshoppers, dried fruits, and Ning-Po oysters. Then followed successively, at short intervals, ducks', pigeons', and peewits' eggs poached, swallows' nests with mashed eggs, fricassees of ginseng, stewed sturgeons' gills, whales' sinews with sweet sauce, freshwater tadpoles, fried crabs' spawn, sparrows' gizzards, sheep's eyes stuffed with garlic, radishes in milk flavored with apricot-kernels, matelotes of holithurias, bamboo sprouts in syrup, and sweet salads. The last course consisted of pineapples from Singapore, earth-nuts, salted almonds, savory mangoes, the white, fleshy fruits of the long-yen, the pulpy fruits of the lit-chee, chestnuts, and preserved oranges from Canton. After the dessert rice was served, which the guests raised to their mouths with little chop-sticks according to the custom of their country. Three hours were spent over the banquet. When it was ended, and at the time when, according to Euro

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Thou, who hast sung how mice encountered frogs,

May'st yet look down through February fogs
(More choice in taste and smell than e'er before
Enwrapped Britannia's shop-infested shore),
Upon the undying strife that keeps alive
The lofty name of the Conservative.

Muse! hast thou left no master-chord to thrill
These bastard spirits with thy beauty still,
No voice to whisper to the dwindling earth
The glorious secret of thy sacred birth?

We know not, oh, we know not! yet we know,-
At least the few who, lingering below,
Believe that yet the eternal laws of right
Defy the changes of our day and night,
And shall emerge from every mortal test
Of every mortal aim the first and best, -
We know that, patient, by the popular scorn,
It may be, overmatched and overborne,
Our puny hands may not avail to stay
The circus-march of spangles for a day,
Our feeble voice be powerless to drown
And all our strength too weak to tear aside
The yell that calls vulgarity renown,

The nets too close for truth when Lawrence died.

We know all this; but still our faith renew,
Steer by the pole-star steady to the few;
We will not swell the chorus of applause,

Sing, then, my muse, how in the quest of Make man the greater for God's broken laws,

fame

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Ah! pause, and think; beyond the few score years

Which bound the land of hopes, the sea of fears,

The true majority, unheard, unseen,
Await the living o'er the leap between;
Nor all the mists of Positivist breath
Can for a moment cloud the march of death.
The glib philosopher, bold to deny
The poor tradition of a Power on high,
At five-and-twenty summoned hence to see
Which is the greater truth, the Power or he;
The clever trickster playing for amaze,
And tricking out man's fullest span of days,
And wondering in the end that such a man
Can by no trick prolong so small a span,

Cheer on the angry nations in their jars,
And glean for glory in ignoble wars,
O'erride the weak, and, for our courage praised,
Quake at the bug-Bear that ourselves have

raised;

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