Chapter XI: Part II (3)

We give name, locality, and number of members of new circles formed: “Kate F. Kimball,” Minneapolis, Kan., 12; “Delta,” Norwich, Conn., 16; Orlando, Fla., 20; “Evening Star,” Torreyville, N. Y., 7; “Oird,” Oird, Mich., 27; “Lawrence,” Chillicothe, O., 18; “Souri,” Blair, Neb., 22; “Progressives,” Danielsonville, Conn., 16; “Colton,” Colton, Cal., 16; “Gleaners,” Zumbrota, Minn.; “Euclid,” Vicksburg, Miss., 18; “Olympic,” Yarmouth, Me., 14; “Adelphic Union,” Holden, Mo., 21; South Manchester, Conn., 50; oldest member seventy-four, youngest sixteen; West Lebanon, N. Y., few members; Carpinteria, Cal., 8; Hopkinton, Ia., 12; Tiffin, O., organized with 6, now 13; “St. Johns,” Toledo, O., 26, was organized by a “lone member.” In Barrie, Ontario, Canada, the enthusiasm of 5 enrolled 24 more; smallest attendance has been 16. Two teachers of Brainard, Neb., have failed but twice during the severe winter, to meet every week. Their walk is several miles to the home of an invalid, who, with them, composes a circle, “The Triangle.” “Straight Line,” Matawan, N. J., 2. These object to name, saying “it speaks of poultry.” Can not the class suggest names and have them given in our column, and be voted upon, selecting the one receiving the highest number of votes? Portland, Ind., circle desires a change of name. One from Darlington, Ind., also objects to name. One member from Chicago, Ill., suggests change of motto to “Let us be doers of the Word, not hearers only:” Matt. v:16. “Evening Star,” Terryville, N. Y., “started late, but worked hard and caught up, and have not yet had a dull meeting.” “Oird,” Mich., writes: “After starting, no one wishes to turn back.” Quite a number have written regarding their “Longfellow” day. One circle, “Delta,” of Norwich, Conn., sends a poem respecting their “Washington” day. Want of space crowds out this, and much more.

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THE PLYMOUTH ROCKS.

Why should we take with such pretense
A name so great? and in what sense
Should we be likened to the stone
Which to the Pilgrims first was known?

This answering thought then came to me;
“The teachings of our class should be
A stepping-stone for coming youth,
From seas of doubt to shore of truth.”

So, when the ocean waves of wrong
Shall dash about us fierce and strong,
We may not fear, nor be dismayed—
Truth never in the grave was laid.

And when the surging waves subside
And calmed shall be the raging tide
We, like the “rock,” may firmly stand
To “welcome home” the storm-tossed band.

These principles our lives will lead,
If to our name we give good heed;
True helpfulness to others give,
And firmness for the right to live.

Our influence will then appear,
Proving more clearly year by year,
The motto which our class now leads,
“Let us be seen by our (good) deeds.”

—_Marietta S. Case._

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Many write of the “unbounded pleasure” they find in our reading course.

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“Adelphic Union,” Holden, Mo., says their circle has neither “flaw nor break.” They have sent us a program of a symposium. Each member assumed a Greek name and wore an appropriate costume. The Greek idea was carried out even to the “Master of Revels.”

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“Kate F. Kimball,” Minneapolis, Kansas, sends us their _menu_. The invitation to this tempting repast we could not accept, though the food _was_ prepared in accordance with THE CHAUTAUQUAN’S directions. We must also decline the kindly invitation to the reception tendered our president, the Rev. A. E. Dunning, by the Congregational Sunday-school Superintendents’ Union, of Boston. The card is itself a treat.

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Make your items for this column very brief, as we are not allowed much space. Write _no more words_ than are necessary, and yet state everything of interest.

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ILLINOIS.—“The North Side C. L. S. C., of Chicago, held a public examination and reception at the parlors of the Grace M. E. Church, recently; it was a great success. There were about 150 persons present, and they evinced great interest in the exercises. We belong to the class of ’88, and this is our first reception, and we all feel delighted over our success, and we will have another in a short time. We know that our meeting will be of interest to all Chautauquans, particularly those of Chicago and vicinity.”

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From a packet on the Tensas River comes a bit of history telling how one new member has been added to the class of ’88: “Having complained to a passenger on board my steamer that time hung heavily on my hands during a portion of each trip, and asked her to suggest a remedy, she immediately named the Chautauqua school, and advised me to become a member of the class of ’88, and gave me a list of questions I would be obliged to answer. As my education has necessarily been limited, I thought favorably of the scheme of self-improvement, as a relief to the monotonous long watches.” The master of the packet is now a member of the class of ’88.

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Way down in Texas, at Hempstead, is a faithful band of fifteen C. L. S. C. workers of the class of ’88. They are college folks, the president of the institution—Soule College—to which they belong being the president of the circle. They are very enthusiastic over the course, and do a great deal of work.

EDITOR’S OUTLOOK.

GENERAL GRANT’S ILLNESS.

The pathetic interest surrounding the illness of General Grant recalls the intenser, but not more persistent, emotions of the days when President Garfield lay dying. The strong and sustained popular interest in the illness of General Grant is shown by the constant attention of the press to the theme. No day is allowed to pass without a telegraphic bulletin informing the nation how well or ill the distinguished patient slept the last night, and reporting any change for the better or the worse. We are all gathered about the invalid chair, in which the illustrious sufferer spends his wearisome days; and any word which drops from his lips flies on the wires all over the country. It is not a passion, or a folly, or a nullity. It is a piece of modern Providential education. What distinguished patient, ever before Garfield had so large and so _near_ an audience of sympathy? And who does not see in the strong-flowing tide of sympathy for General Grant another lesson of the same kind? Eminence has been honored before; but these thought-laden wires take us into the very chamber of the patient and set us all upon muffled words of regret, and pity, and sorrow. We are learning, hardly knowing it, how eminence claims our regard and commands our attention, and how rapidly we can forget our criticisms and our antagonisms when Death knocks at the great man’s door. There is nothing political, nothing sensational, in this illness. No public fortunes, or hopes, or fears hang upon the event. General Grant is dying; that is all; but the man who has filled so large a space in his country’s history, and dwelt so long in the world’s eye, can not die without quickening all pulses, and awakening every soul to pitiful attention. Great worlds of mysterious human powers of interest and sympathy seem to open before us, and invite us within the awe and solemnity of their spiritual skies. It is better—we see why, now—to go to the house of mourning than to the house of feasting. No day of triumph in General Grant’s life had such an uplifting and educating power as is borne along in the arms of these days’ sickness and sorrow. Dying so among us, the illustrious patient does indeed die for us—his death lifting us into better life.

There are many smaller lessons. What an education in gunshot wounds we got at the bedside of Garfield! What a window into one of the awfully mysterious diseases we are looking through at the bedside of Grant! Before the end comes, cancer will have parted with much of its mystery. What doctors know the nation will know; and the education will save human lives; perhaps impel men to closer and more effectual search for the causes and remedies of this terrible disease. A human interest, such as we are feeling throughout the nation and the world, has a stimulating power which no man can measure. It may be that out of Grant’s dying of cancer may come discoveries of permanent and universal value to mankind.

THE UNITED STATES SENATE.

Many circumstances have combined to fix attention at the present time upon the Senate of the United States. We have seen a Republican majority confirm the appointments of a Democratic President with the calmness and dignity of a Supreme Court passing upon questions of law. The event is not a new one, but it is still an impressive one, quite as much so as the change of the presidential office on the fourth of March. We then saw a defeated party resign the control of the government with decorum and civic reverence. We waited with bated breath for the first conflicts between the President and the Senate. No conflict came. Appointments were confirmed by the Senate without partisan bickerings or lamentations. The dignity of the Senate was seen to be a splendid and honorable reality. We catch other lights shining upon the Senate by going back a little. Last year, when the English people were “mad to the verge of insanity” because the House of Lords refused to pass a bill extending the franchise, the English magazines and newspapers overflowed with commendations of our Upper House. In the light of their own trouble, the English saw how happily our fathers had founded an Upper House upon enduring foundations, and how deftly they had combined popular representation with conservative privilege in our Senate. No other American institution ever had so much first-rate advertising as this Senate of ours had last year. The praise came from the best foreign sources; from men deeply versed in history, rich in public experience, and renowned for candid and sober judgment. What the historian sees in our Senate is an Upper House which reposes upon the elective principle, and is in fact constituted indirectly by the same vote which fills the Lower House—and therefore as truly from the people—but which has at the same time a distinct and original and impressive office in the government. The result was achieved by the fathers with a few well-aimed strokes of political art. For example, _the Senate never dies_. There are many Congresses, but there is only one Senate. There is at this time no House of Representatives; there never was an hour of constitutional history when there was not a Senate. This was achieved by a simple provision that one third of the Senators should retire biennially. The Senate must “advise,” that is to say, confirm all the President’s appointments. It is his council for considering and completing treaties with foreign powers—and without the consent of the Senate the President can make no treaty. And if the people through the House of Representatives impeach the President, it is in that august presence that he must appear and plead in his defense. The Senate has exercised all these peculiar functions during the century past, and in all of them it has displayed in the main those special qualities which the framers of the constitution sought to enlist in the service of government. It has even tried a President in the intense heat of controversies begotten in civil war—and acquitted him in the face of the clamorous dominant party to which the majority belonged. Its record is full of striking triumphs over the bitterness of party spirit. It has been judicial in its temper many a time when the air was full of rancorous strifes and malignant personalities. It has sloughed off the partisan sores caused by factional poison; and though it was seriously endangered by such devices as “the courtesy of the Senate,” it has refused to be used for narrow and selfish ends. The wranglers have passed out of sight; the Senate never dies.

The judicial character of the body is apparent in its methods of discussion. There is no “previous question” gag upon debate. A conspicuous unfairness to a member is impossible. A neat way of showing self respect by respecting brother Senators is the custom of confirming, without reference to a committee, any nomination of a Senator to an office. All other names must go to the committees; the names of Senators are honored by immediate action. Members of the Lower House are, not without reason, jealous of the power and “arrogance” of the Senate. But the people enjoy the breadth and decorum of their Senate. It can be trusted to _judge_, to put its candid opinion into all the peculiar functions which it exercises. In the field of politics, senatorial action may be very like any other human behaving in such environments; but in the special judicial tasks of the Senators there is the serenity and probity of a court room. And yet the Senate has its dangers, and it has in recent years been close to the perilous edge of the precipice. A tendency to venal methods of electing Senators came in after the civil war, and a number of rich nobodies have disgraced the high office. It is believed that there are now a few Senators whose purses are far longer than their heads, and in some of the wrangles over recent elections of Senators, the power of money has been very freely talked of and boasted of. But in this matter the worst is over. The election of Mr. Evarts in New York is a proof that legislatures can be lifted above money influence; for if any senatorships would invite special efforts to win them by venal arts, they are those of the Empire State. When that state chose last winter one of its most eminent citizens—a man known rather as a great man than as a politician—it set an example which will have no small influence over other states. The Senate has in both parties men of great ability. There is undoubtedly a growing desire and purpose that only great men be clothed with senatorial honors. We are well past the civil war and reconstruction periods, and as we advance into happier conditions we are likely to take an increasing popular pride in our unique, original and successful Upper House. There is nothing like it in the world. It is the most conspicuous work of American political genius. The more the people realize it, the more pains will they take in filling it with great men.

SUMMER AMUSEMENTS.

We are, as a people, growing in taste for amusements. Some of the manifestations of this taste are not of an entirely satisfactory character; but there are other aspects of a very agreeable nature. Our summer amusements are in the open air. We have not yet learned to play outdoors in the winter; but we are slowly learning of the Canadians, and it is not improbable that Southern people will by and by come north in the season of short days to play in the frost of our most Arctic states. We have commented in a former number of THE CHAUTAUQUAN upon the advantages of the Canadian winter sports. Our summer sports are in a more advanced state of development. Base ball, Lacrosse, lawn tennis and croquet are established institutions, while we are only experimenting with tobogganing. It needs no argument here to satisfy people who think at all that amusements should be in the open air and require exercise enough to increase the strength and expand the lungs. Exercise is a farce unless the heart is put into it; and play is unwise if it is not healthful. Play is primarily a demand of the physique; its value to the mind begins with the refreshment of the body by wholesome use of the muscles. The summer amusements in which women take part are above all just criticism. Croquet and lawn tennis have no doubtful elements. The exercise they afford will not content an athlete, but they are adequate to the wants of sedentary people in warm weather. There is no doubt that many persons would be greatly benefited by such games. They are too sedentary; they live too much indoors; they are too closely tied to a routine of thought or feeling. The open air, the mild exercise, the social chat, would give them a change of feeling and an agreeable exercise. Nor is there any conceivable avenue of approach for moral dangers. It is not wise for any one to make a business of croquet or of any other amusement; but the danger of excess is not worth considering. It will occur so seldom and have such limited consequences that the moralist need not post sentinels upon croquet grounds.

The “manly sports” are less satisfactory. Cricket, base ball and Lacrosse have the disadvantages following: First, they are exhibitions and public rather than social; second, they require violent exertion in hot weather; third, they are accompanied by gambling and other unmanly vices. Cricket and Lacrosse are not open to the last objection to any considerable extent. Those who engage in them are for the most part gentlemen; they are, so to say, the aristocratic games, while base ball is the great popular athletic game. It is not very old. When men now fifty were boys they did not know the modern game, though they did know a much simpler and far less strenuous practice with a soft ball—a game also called base ball. There is some reason to fear that this form of athletics is being ruined by immoral attachments and environments. Of boating we make special mention because it _requires_ no overstrain—since boating need not mean boat-racing—and, indeed, is open to none of the objections urged against the exhibitory public games. On Chautauqua Lake, in the Assembly season, boating is one of the most healthful and enjoyable recreations. The exercise can be adjusted to strength, arrested at any time or prolonged at pleasure, and the boatload is enough for pleasant society—which may, of course, be selected to suit one’s tastes. Of this amusement we have only one regrettable feature to mention—it can be enjoyed only where there is convenient water.

Of the vigorous sports, we are compelled to speak with some reserve. We doubt the wholesomeness of athletics; they involve excess of exertion, and the gambler is the curse of base ball games. The other games may escape the influence of the demoralization, and cricket, polo and Lacrosse become great American exhibitory games of strength and skill. But the quiet social amusements ought to flourish among us, and indefinitely increase. The pleasure row-boat, the croquet and lawn tennis grounds, deserve our special attention. Let us play a little more. We can spare the time, for we shall live longer; we can well afford the hours, because the other hours will be worth more to us. In these quiet games we get refreshment of body and of spirit.

THE MODERN TREATMENT OF THE SOLDIER.

Decoration Day has many happy outlooks upon the humanities. Philanthropy may use it as a finger-board indicating the direction of our modern progress. The soldier’s grave is its special theme; it as clearly suggests the happier fate of the modern soldier as compared with his ancient brother. Great nations have always honored their dead soldiers; it is only in modern times that nations have given their whole hearts to the living soldiers. In the long wars between France and England from the twelfth century onward, the armies had no surgeons, and medical supplies were unknown. The medical equipment of a modern army is costly and ample; and that no man may die unnecessarily, woman hangs on the verge of battle to nurse the wounded, sheltered and safe under a red cross or a red crescent. In the old navies of England and France, the men were slaves who had been captured in their own lands and sent to suffer in crowded bulkheads of ships, or in the galleys, steaming with the most abominable odors. A French duchess in the sixteenth century wrote of that “living hell,” the many-oared galley war ship of the Mediterranean. One can not recall the horrors of any battle on sea or land with composure, but the whole life of soldier and sailor in public service was in the old days full of the horrors of battle fields.

It is often said that war will eventually be stopped by the increased and perfected effectiveness of engines of war. It may well be doubted on general grounds; but it is specially true that humanity has robbed war of many of its terrible aspects; it may well be that those who open again the gates of mercy are competing successfully against those who “shut the gates of mercy” on mankind.

The modern treatment of the soldier is conspicuous in providing for his comfort. Why should England buy canned meats for her soldiers? Some crusts would have sufficed the providing spirit of an ancient general. The British army in the field must be well fed or there will be a great noise about the ears of the government. Let it be written home that the biscuits were stale, or the army went without its supper, and the newspapers will roar out the indignation of the nation. It is an immense task; but it must be accomplished; the modern soldier must have his regular meals with certainty, and the food must be good. The Mahdi has no such cares or duties. His soldiers must forage and browse as best they can. The superior power of the civilized soldier lies as much in his regular feeding as in his discipline—the feeding is an element of his discipline. The soldiers must also be comfortably clothed and sheltered. Woe to the commander who exposes his men to needless hardships. The country will not allow its loyal and brave defenders to suffer a needless deprivation or hardship. If commissaries are careless or venal, the nation will pillory them in eternal infamy. The soldier must have, even in the far off desert, many of the comforts of home or the country will know the reason why. And when the battered veterans come home, how the air rings with huzzas, how tender the pity for the wounded, how liberal the pensions for the widows and orphans of those who did not come home! Neither Cyrus nor Alexander had any such pension rolls. Rome idolized her armies, but she let them starve abroad, and forgot their families at home. This whole line of treatment means more than we can express in words. It is a very real and royal worship of the nobility which we see in the soldier. Often he is a sorry human creature, but it is almost a profanation to say so. We idolize him and his office. He is our defender, our chivalric knight, our personation of the flag over us, and of the civilization in us. But—but—what chance does this treatment of the soldier afford for the Day of Universal Peace? Will a sword ever become a pruning hook so long as it is glorified by such a symbolism and illumined by these soft lights of pity and reverence? Let us not take too gloomy a view of the effects of our philanthropy toward the soldier. The causes of war probably lie out of the range of these influences. Wars would still be, if they were still as diabolically merciless as they were in the mediæval days when a war galley was “a living hell.” Peace is a question of universal civilization; and the pity we yield to the soldier is one of the undying agencies of universal civilization.

THE LIGHTING OF TOWNS.

Street lighting is a modern invention. The history is imperfect, but Alexander Dumas gives credit to the tradition that Naples was first lighted in the seventeenth century by the cunning of a popular and sagacious priest, who induced the people to burn votive lamps before the numerous images of St. Joseph, the patron saint of the city. In the ancient towns people went about at night with lamps; and in mediæval times crimes of vengeance and greed found shelter and safety in the gloom of unlighted thoroughfares and bridges. When lighting began with oil lamps, the situation was not much improved; the feeble glimmer of the lamp-wicks only made certain corners less gloomy. When gas lights began to be used the millennium seemed to have come, and gas was expected to abolish midnight crimes. Until about a score of years ago, there was general satisfaction with gas light. Very satisfactory results were obtained in small towns by the use of petroleum, and the only formidable difficulties were those arising from the high cost of gas in towns of moderate wealth. It almost doubled the tax-levy, and when this bill did not materially decrease the cost of a police force the tax-payers murmured. Still, the work of lighting went on, and as soon as a town became ambitious, its citizens demanded street lights of some kind. The general result has been an immense increase of the aggregate outlays for this purpose. If we take into account the growth of towns and the extension of public lighting, it is safe to estimate that the public lighting bill of the world is twenty times as large as it was fifty years ago.

The invention of electric lights has, by the superior efficiency of this method, rendered oil and gas unsatisfactory; and the electric lamp furnishes three or four times as much light as gas at the same cost. But there are a dozen or more methods of using the electric lamp, and it may be doubted that we have yet reached the end of our inventive wits in this field. It is quite probable that the electric lamp of the next century will cost far less than any now in use. We are yet in the infancy of electrical invention, and it may be wise for communities to suffer a little longer the evils of darkness in order to obtain the best appliances for public lighting. The time is at hand when all towns will have street lamps; the inventors are busy and hopeful, and a little cautious patience in the public will probably stimulate rather than discourage invention. It is a good trait in our people that they want the newest device, at whatever cost; but on the other hand the ability of A to stock the market with an inferior article discourages the efforts of B to devise a superior one. The plant for lighting a town is expensive, and can not easily be thrown aside for a better one. Besides, we are in some danger of hatching a new brood of monopolies to plague us with unreasonable exactions.

We need street lights much more than our fathers did. In large towns—and in many small ones—the din of toil does not cease when darkness comes on. There is a steady increase of night occupations. Some of these occupations are of high convenience, such as the pharmacies, the printing offices, and the depots of travel. Others are means to profitable ends for individuals. In a great city a multitude of people use the streets at night. The market gardener must be in his stall before day dawn. The daily bread is baked or distributed to depots of sale in the night time; a thousand small trades are plied in the darkness to provide the tables of the families with the necessaries and luxuries of life. The result is a growing demand for artificial sunshine, and this demand will be amply met in a near future. The bright lights will do what the feeble lights partially failed to do. The night will cease to be the hour of crime. If one will but think of it, a marvelous change has come over the world since petroleum was discovered in Western Pennsylvania—which was, as it were, but yesterday. Then we had tallow dips in all but the largest towns for all lighting purposes, except when extravagant people burned on rare occasions the costly illuminating oils. To make noonday in a whole town at midnight would have seemed a foolish dream thirty years ago. The world moves—into the light.

EDITOR’S NOTE-BOOK.

The world was never kept busier studying its geography than just at present. All quarters of the world are demanding attention. In China the Tonquin trouble has assumed such proportions that the daily papers have come out with a map of the disputed country. The Afghan difficulty has set us to locating Herat and learning how to pronounce the barbarous names; the Soudan is pinned up on everybody’s wall or tucked into their note-book; the revolution in Central America demands that we familiarize ourselves with a country we never did know much about, while the Oklahoma boomers of the West and rebellious Manitoba keep us interested enough in home affairs not to forget how our boundaries lie.

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One of the most popular places in Washington during inaugural week was the National Museum. During the 2d, 3d, 4th, 5th and 6th days of March 23,000 visitors were registered. Going to the inauguration, like “goin’ to the Fourth,” is becoming an American custom. To express the peculiar habits of those who surrendered themselves to the festivities, Washingtonians say that they have gone “inaugurating,” a noun which we may be obliged to put into the dictionary if we continue to make so much of our political moultings.

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A useful improvement in letter delivery is to go into effect on July 1st. A ten-cent stamp is to be provided, which, attached to a letter, entitles it to immediate delivery in all cities having 4,000 inhabitants or over, within the carrier limit of any free delivery office, or within one mile of the postoffice. It is a perfectly practical scheme, and it is apparent that there is a demand for a quicker means of communication than an uncertain and delayed letter delivery, for a class of letters which are unsuited for telegraph or telephone.

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The “Bird’s-Eye View of Forestry” which appears in this issue of THE CHAUTAUQUAN from the pen of the Rev. S. W. Powell will be read, we trust, with attention. Mr. Powell is an authority on the subject, being corresponding secretary of the New York State Forestry Association recently organized at Utica, New York.

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There is something new in bills of fare. For several seasons _littérateurs_ have rejoiced in _menus_, with quotations. The “allusive” _menu_ takes its place now. Here is a sample from a mid-Lent luncheon party in London: “Beauty draws us with a single hair” turned out to be jugged hare; “My Lord, the early village cock,” curried spring chicken; “Sing me songs of Araby,” coffee.

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The year 1884 did nothing brilliant for astronomy. Nine new asteroids were added to the list, giving us a family of 244. Six new comets were noted, but none of them created much of an excitement save in astronomical circles, and even there they were rather disappointing.

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Russia threatens to completely outstrip America in the production of petroleum. Their richest petroleum region has but 400 wells, while in America there are over 23,000; but one well of the 400 is declared to produce, in a day, more than all our daily production. Spouting or flowing wells throw out such mammoth quantities that the oil is allowed to run into the sea or is burned.

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Everybody knows that we get our trained artisans from Europe; that our trades unions have discouraged apprentices until it is very difficult for boys to get any instruction in trades. What shall take the place of the former system of apprenticeship? It seems to us that the New York Trade Schools are framing a practical answer. The schools offer courses in bricklaying, plastering, plumbing, carpentry, wood carving, pattern making, stone cutting, and fresco painting; they furnish the best instructors procurable, and for such a cost that almost any young man can afford the instruction. These schools, if encouraged, will make it as possible for young Americans to become skilled mechanics as it is for young Germans or Englishmen.

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The re-appointment of Postmaster Pearson, of New York City, will do more for civil service reform than many speeches in favor of the measure. The wholesomeness and reasonableness of appointing men because they are competent to do the work, and not because they belong to a particular party, will be more forcibly demonstrated to the country by a few such illustrations than by any other means.

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In a recent crusade movement at Cornwall, N. Y., several ladies of the “Society of Friends” besieged a saloon, where they remained several days, praying and singing. Pepper was burned on the stove, the room was smoked full by the loafers, but with more valor than discretion the ladies staid in spite of every insult. It is difficult to see what has been gained. The saloon had law on its side, and the good women were arrested for trespass and fined, while the leading men of the Society published a card declaring that they did not “approve nor consent to all their unwise practices.” “Wise as serpents, harmless as doves,” is the only motto for those who contend effectually with the liquor traffic.

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Some one has set afloat, in the midst of all the attention which has been given to the Washington monument, a touching story of a monument erected seventy-five years ago to the “Father of his Country,” by the inhabitants of Boonesboro, Md. It was purely a labor of love. Near the town stands South Mountain, and on the most conspicuous point a site was chosen, where the farmers of the vicinity hauled and laid with their own hands the rocks which they themselves had quarried. Labor and time were given willingly until the work was complete. The humble, eloquent tribute still stands, a witness to the honest devotion of a faithful people.

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The Afghan frontier difficulty between England and Russia came in like a lion, and bids fair, at this writing, to go out like a lamb. War was announced to hang by a thread. The Russians were declared to be advancing into the territory of the Ameer; England to be ready with an ultimatum, which might be accepted or not, as Russia pleased. Announcements were made that no such vast stores of ammunition, unbounded supplies of provisions, and altogether gigantic preparations for a ferocious war had ever before been made. British consols and Russian securities went down, and American wheat went up. Undoubtedly the war cry has been fostered in England—a shrewd maneuver of the ministry—to take the attention from the Soudan trouble, and there is but little doubt now that the negotiations in progress will be successful. England has her hands full already, while Russia is not so hot-headed as to rush into a war without counting its cost.

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A pleasant surprise has stirred literary circles this past month. A favorite magazine contributor for several years has been Charles Egbert Craddock, whose striking, original stories, full of freshness and keen observation have been constantly becoming more popular. “Mr.” Craddock kept himself quietly in St. Louis until his literary position was well established, and then went to Boston to make the acquaintance of his publishers. What was the astonishment of the latter to find that this contributor was a lady, Miss M. N. Murfree by name. The revelation was almost “too good to be true,” for no one had suspected the vigorous writing to come from other than a masculine mind. The surprise has greatly increased her popularity, of course.

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The striking public spectacle of 100,000 visitors gathered to witness and to swell the pageant of the 4th of March is not yet at an end. The month goes, but it still leaves in Washington hundreds of office seekers, who have before themselves the belittling, wearing, unmanly business of _etching_ their way into public service. The way in which most of the appointments have thus far been made signifies very plainly that this work is at a discount, and that we may reasonably hope to soon see the office seeker starved out.

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Niagara is to be preserved. The bill which passed the New York State Assembly recently, providing for the preservation of the banks of the rivers from the works of the vandals, proves conclusively how quick we Americans are to do the right thing when we are fully persuaded what is right. Most of our wrongs against good taste and our depredations against rivers and forests are rather to be attributed to a lack of thought than, is usually the case, to be laid at the doors of avarice.

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We are pained to record the death of our able contributor, Mr. Richard Grant White. For several months Mr. White has been seriously ill, though making a brave effort to continue his labors. The excellent series of articles on Good English, which have appeared in the Required Readings in this volume of THE CHAUTAUQUAN, from his pen, was interrupted by his illness, and now his death leaves a vacancy which President Wheeler kindly comes in to fill for our readers. Mr. White’s work for THE CHAUTAUQUAN has very deeply interested him. As late as March 18th, he wrote us: “I may be obliged to abandon the series entirely, but this I should greatly regret.” His expressions of interest in our work have been encouraging and hearty. Mr. White was only sixty-three years old at his death. He first gained public distinction as a musical critic in the _Courier and Enquirer_. He was subsequently attached to the staff of the _World_, the _Albion_, and the _Times_; and of late years he has been widely known as a writer on English topics, and especially as a critic of social and philological subjects. The news of his decease will be received with sincere sorrow by the wide circle of his friends and professional associates.

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The Rev. Joseph Leslie, an honored minister, who for about fifty years served churches within a few hundred miles of Chautauqua Lake, died at his home in Cattaraugus, New York, March 13th. He was a pioneer preacher in the grove at Chautauqua many years before the Assembly was held there. As a faithful preacher, a man of fine character and sunny disposition, he has made a strong impression for Christianity on the people among whom he lived. He was a trustee of the Chautauqua Assembly, and in his death the Board lose one of their most honored members.

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Mr. T. S. Arthur, author and publisher, died at his home in Philadelphia, on March 6th. Mr. Arthur is well and widely known as the author of one of the most effective temperance stories ever written—“Ten Nights in a Bar Room.” Temperance people, particularly, owe him a kind remembrance for his vigorous works against strong drink.

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Another writer of a widely popular book died the past month, Miss Susan Warner, the author of “The Wide, Wide World.” A healthy, vigorous story it is, and its continued popularity for a third of a century is an almost unknown phenomenon in American novels.

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Think of it! On the first day of April there were eighteen inches of snow covering the Assembly grounds at Chautauqua, and the robins were singing in the trees.

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A most remarkable work has been accomplished in the last twelve years by Mr. Anthony Comstock and his associates. When he put his hand to the work in 1872 there was a systemized business for spreading vile literature and vile pictures over the land. Out of 201 books published in New York, the plates of 199 have been seized, 230,955 pictures, 1,402,444 circulars and leaflets have been destroyed, and 982,010 names which the managers of this infamous business had collected from the catalogues of schools and seminaries seized. In 1877 there were six hundred open gambling dens and nine lotteries in New York City; to-day there is not an open saloon or lottery in the city where gambling can be done or lottery tickets purchased. The character of criminal papers has been so restricted by law that two out of the four worst papers scattered through the country have died of enforced respectability. The circulation of a third has been reduced from 125,000 to 67,000, and that of another has fallen fifty per cent.

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There is probably no doubt in the mind of the magic-working electrician that the horse car of the future, and, indeed, the railway car, will be run by electricity, and the public has seen so much of the wonderful that it is quite ready to believe in anything promised. Already a very successful experiment with a tram car has been made in Millwall, England, where it has been proven that the electric machine necessary has in weight an advantage of five to one compared with a steam or air locomotion, that the speed can be increased much more easily than with horse power, and if necessary, a propelling power equal to sixteen horses can be gained. The changing of batteries requires less time than the change of horses; the arrangement of bells and lamps is much superior, and the cost per mile just one half. Another consideration suggests itself to the member of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals—it will prevent much wicked abuse of horses.

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There is a society in London which has undertaken to furnish two-cent dinners to poor children. The first thought would be that such a scheme must fail entirely of paying its own way, and sooner or later collapse if not endowed. The organization sends out a report, however, which declares that it is a financial success—such a success, in fact, that a second society has undertaken to furnish one-cent dinners to the very poor children. This latter enterprise, it is believed, will nearly pay its way. Here is one of the worthiest schemes for the philanthropists of our cities and larger towns, and one which can be conducted without taxing anybody’s pocket-book.

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Mr. Richard Proctor says: “One of the most remarkable inventions of the age is the ammoniaphone.” The inventor, Dr. Carter Moffat, has for years believed the beauty of Italian vocal tones was due to something in the air of Italy. Visiting Southern Italy he made over seventy-five analyses of the air and dew, and finally became convinced that its peculiar characteristic was its saturation with ammonia and hydrogen peroxide. He has spent nine years in perfecting an instrument for inhaling vapors. Mr. Proctor says after testing the instrument: “One draught of air was inhaled, when, to our great astonishment, the intensity of the voice was about doubled, while its cleanness was as greatly increased.” The inventor claims that the “employment of the ammoniaphone according to direction Italianizes the voice, and makes a weak voice or a drawing room voice strong, rich, clear, and ringing.”

C. L. S. C. NOTES ON REQUIRED READINGS FOR MAY.

ENGLISH AS A UNIVERSAL LANGUAGE.

1. “Max Müller.” (1823-⸺.) An English philologist, and one of the most eminent living orientalists. He prepared an edition of the “Rig-Veda” (a collection of ancient Hindoo literature), with a commentary. This stupendous work is composed of six volumes, and each volume contains more than 1,200 pages. He has published many philological works, and has done more than any other one scholar to awaken a taste for the science of language.

2. “The Aryan tribe.” See in THE CHAUTAUQUAN for October, 1884, the first article, “Why we Speak English.”

3. “Sanskrit.” The literary language of the Hindoos, the Aryan inhabitants of India.

4. “Dark Ages.” The name given to the time of intellectual depression in Europe, extending from the fifth century to the fifteenth. During this time some periods were darker than others, the darkest occurring about the seventh century.

SUNDAY READINGS.

1. “Gil-filˈlan,” George. (1813-1878.) A Scottish minister and author; has published many works.

2. “Herbert,” George. (1593-1632.) All English divine and poet. He was generally known as “Holy George Herbert,” his life being most exemplary and zealous.

3. “Prof. Upham,” Thomas Cogswell. (1799-1872.) An American author. For two years he was pastor of the Congregational church in Rochester, and in 1825 he accepted a professorship in Bowdoin College.

CHEMISTRY.

1. “Adams,” John Couch. (1819-⸺.) An English astronomer, who shares with Leverrier the honor of having calculated the place of the planet Neptune before it had been seen.

2. “Leverrier,” Urbain John Joseph, lŭh-vair-yā. (1811-1877.) A French astronomer. His “Tables of Mercury” and some memoirs led to a friendship with Arago, and opened to him the door of the French Academy. He then began the study of the disturbances of the planets, which led to the discovery of Neptune. By a remarkable coincidence the existence of this planet was discovered at the same time, and independently, by Adams.

3. “Foucault,” Leon, foo-kō. (1819-1868.) A French natural philosopher, who for years turned his attention exclusively to optics, and was very successful in mechanics. He invented an electric lamp which was adopted by natural philosophers for physical experiments, and was used for lighting large factories.

4. “Brobˈdig-nag,” also written Brobdingnag. The imaginary country described by Dean Swift in “Gulliver’s Travels,” which was inhabited by a race of giants.

5. “Perihelion,” perˈi-hēlˌyun; “Aphelion,” af-hēlˈyun.

6. “Kepler,” Johann. (1571-1630.) A distinguished German astronomer and mathematician, to whom the world is indebted for the discovery of the laws that regulate the movements of the heavenly bodies. He was appointed to the chair of astronomy in Gratz University, in Styria, but in 1598 was dismissed because he professed the reformed religion; he was afterward recalled. He was an earnest disciple of Copernicus, and published in seven volumes the “Epitome of the Copernican Astronomy,” which was placed in the list of prohibited books by the inquisition. He was the author of many other works.

7. “Dr. Maskelyne,” Neville. (1732-1811.) An English astronomer.

8. “Dr. Cavendish.” See Notes in THE CHAUTAUQUAN for October, 1884.

9. “Archimedes,” ark-i-mēˈdes. (B. C. 287-212.) The most celebrated mathematician of antiquity. Cicero and Livy both refer to him in their writings, the former to his aptness in solving problems, the latter to his ingenuity in the invention of warlike engines. The law referred to was, that a body plunged in water loses as much weight as is equal to the weight of an equal body of water. King Hiero suspected that a gold crown had been alloyed with silver, and asked Archimedes to test it. He was trying to find some means by which he could decide the matter, when going one day to the bath tub he found it full, and immediately saw that as much water must run over the tub as was equal to the bulk of his body. He saw at once a method for determining the matter of the crown, and crying “_Eureka, eureka_; I have found it, I have found it,” he ran home.

THE EYES BUSY ON THINGS ABOUT US.

1. “Turner,” Joseph Mallord William. (1775-1851.) An English painter. His greatest fame was acquired through Ruskin, who in “Modern Painters” gives a full account of his works. As an artist he is distinguished by the strong lights and high colors of his landscapes.

2. “Ruskin.” In addition to what was said of him in the Notes in THE CHAUTAUQUAN for April, the following is given: His books upon art are the most eloquent and original ever written. His “Modern Painters” was revolutionary in its spirit, and roused the hostility of conservative art lovers. Its design was to prove the superiority of modern landscape painters, and particularly Turner, over the old artists. Its high merits gave it a fixed place in literature.

3. For Galileo, Humboldt and Hugh Miller, see former Notes in the present volume of THE CHAUTAUQUAN. “Newton,” Sir Isaac. (1642-1727.) An English philosopher. He was educated at Trinity College, Cambridge, and in 1669 accepted the mathematical professorship in that institution. While there he made his three great discoveries, of fluxions, the nature of light and colors, and the laws of gravitation. He was the author of many works, chief among which is the “Principia,” containing his theory of the universe, which brought him fame and riches. His generosity was remarkable; he frequently entertained in a royal manner his many friends, and his kindness and courtesy toward foreigners was very marked.

“Agassiz,” Louis. (1807-1873.) One of the most eminent naturalists of the century. He was born in Switzerland, and educated in the universities of Zurich, Heidelberg and Munich. He made great researches in the field of science in different lands, and published extensively on subjects of natural history. From 1846 his biography belongs to the scientific history of the United States. For some years he was professor in the scientific school founded at Cambridge by Mr. Abbot Lawrence. For two years he held the professorship of comparative anatomy in the medical college of Charleston, S. C., and in 1868 was appointed professor in Cornell University, in Ithaca, N. Y. His eminence as a scientific man was early recognized in Europe. He was made a member of the Academy of Science in Paris, and of the Royal Society of London.

4. “Vergers,” verˈjers. 1. An attendant upon a dignitary. 2. A beadle in a cathedral church; a pew opener or an attendant.

5. “Cathedral at Pisa.” One of the most remarkable structures in the world. It was commenced in 1068 and finished in 1118. It is built of white marble, and its noble dome is supported by seventy-four pillars. It contains some celebrated works of art, and these, together with its variegated marbles and stained windows, add much to its attractiveness.

6. “Count Maurice of Nassau.” (1567-1625.) The second son of William of Orange. He was in his seventeenth year at the time of his father’s assassination, and was soon after proclaimed governor by the states of Holland and Zealand. His talents, as a general, in the troublous times that followed, surpassed all expectations.

7. “Sir Samuel Browne.” (1776-1852.) An English engineer who brought into use both chain cables and iron suspension bridges.

8. “James Watt.” (1736-1819.) A Scottish inventor. He began life as a mathematical instrument maker. In this capacity he was employed in the university of Glasgow from 1757 to 1763. He devoted his evenings to the study of modern languages and music. In 1758 he began his experiments with steam as a propelling power, which led to the invention of the steam engine. Among his other inventions are a micrometer, a copying machine, and a machine for making drawings in perspective. For some years he devoted himself to land surveying and superintending the works on canals, to the improvement of harbors and the building of bridges. He possessed an extraordinary memory, and a more than superficial acquaintance with many sciences and arts.

9. “Sir Isambert Bru-nelˈ.” (1769-1849.) The well known executor of the Thames tunnel. He was a Frenchman, and was intended for the church, but manifested so strong a liking for the physical sciences, and so great a genius for mathematics, that he was allowed to follow his natural bent and adopt the profession of a civil engineer. During the French Revolution he emigrated to the United States, where he engaged in many great works. After a stay of some years he went to England and there invented a number of useful machines, and was steadily employed upon important architectural and engineering works. His greatest achievement was the construction of the tunnel under the Thames River, which after many difficulties and disasters was completed in 1843, eighteen years after it was commenced. He was a member of the Royal Society, and also of the French Academy.

10. “Cuvier,” kūˈvyā. George Leopold Christian Frederic Dagobert, Baron. (1769-1832.) An eminent French naturalist. Such was his talent and such the perseverance with which he followed up his examination and inquiries, that he was soon looked upon as one of the best zoölogists in Europe. His fame reached the ears of Napoleon, and he bestowed upon him the most important offices in the department of public instruction. France is indebted to him for the finest osteological collection in the world; and the world is indebted to him for the great addition he has made to the science of zoölogy.