made wash for swine and motley for fools. Name them not, for their meaning has become folly, their sanctity scorn. Those who will know me must rid themselves of names and listen to their own hearts."

“I know you, I know you,” said Johannes.

It was I who made you weep for men, though you understood not your own tears. It was I who gifted you with love, the love that you compreLended not; I have been with you and you have not seen me, I have touched your heart and you have not known me.”

“Why can I see you now?"

“Many tears must purify the eyes that are to behold me. And you must not weep for yourself alone, but for me, then you will see me and know me for a familiar friend."

"I do know you, I recognize you, let me be with you."

The Nineteenth Century.

The figure pointed to the crystal boat sailing into the light, and again he stretched his hands towards the earneast. "That is

my way,” he said, "where men and misery dwell; yonder is light and happiness and everything you have ever desired. Choose."

Then Johannes turned his gaze slowly from Windekind's glittering form and stretched his hands towards the earnest-eyed figure, and, with his compan. ion, he faced the chill night wind and chose the hard path to the gloomy city where dwell men and misery.

A new lesson had begun, the lesson that

Knowledge by suffering entereth, And life is perfected by death.

Margaret Robinson.


On every hand there are signs that an age of memoirs is upon us. There have been such periods before, when the memoirs of some “person of quality" and the "remains" and "additional remains" of some divine were the most common outputs of the Press. Then biography was a decent mark of respect, less necessary than a tombstone, but of a rank with the mutes and weepers. My lord was scarcely gone from his earthly tenement when his confidential secretary or his domestic chaplain had begun the work, which, in time, came into print with a frontis. piece wherein Muses wept over their patron's bier. It was all an innocent convention, and the products, save in some few cases where the subject had made history, have departed into limbo. After all, the chaplain did his work with care and leisure, and the books

had dignity if they lacked interest. Today we are in a different case. No sooner does a notable man die than his memoir is forthcoming, and the same newspaper which prints an account of his funeral advertises his Life in two volumes with photographs. Any one with the smallest pretensions to fame may count on a hastily written biography; and the fashion goes further, for the majority make it their business to forestall the biographer and publish their annals in their lifetime. It is ungenerous to find fault with the good people who keep diaries and long memories, for we owe them many pleasant hours; but the fashion is a dangerous one, and there are sad examples of its degradation. To have known eminent men and women is well, and to remember their sayings better; but more than this is required for the making of a

good book. The truth is that a man's three parts of life are made up of them, life is now regarded as a commercial but the little things must have the asset. While he lives publishers pester meaning which Dr. Johnson claimed him for his memoirs, and after his for them. "There is nothing, Sir, so death there is always some willing little for so little a creature as man. scribe for the work. And the great It is by studying little things that we public likes it, and money is made, and attain the great art of having as little every one is satisfied. Soon it will be misery and as much happiness as posa sacred duty to one's family to have' sible.” memoirs ready for publication, and Let all this be granted, and let a man some day an enlightened Chancellor of have the best disposition in the world the Exchequer will exact Estate-duty towards the class; yet the odds are on this as on other personal assets. that the modern memoir will prove too

We confess to a catholic liking for much for him. For one thing, there memoirs of every sort, provided they are too many. The smallest notable in be done well. From the small craft any walk of life must have this tribute of anecdote-books and table-talk, and to his merits, and the garrulity of the the elegant brigantines of diaries and memoirist is rarely proportionate to the collections of letters, to the great three- man's fame. But such books are for deckers of a Horace Walpole and a the friends, it will be said; the stranger Boswell, we find the class one of the need not read them. True, but the most entertaining in literature. We practice corrupts the whole art, and would sharply distinguish the memoir where one good book might be written from the biography. The latter is a there will be twenty bad ones. With stiff and comprehensive work, conducted the great names the case is even worse. in a scientific spirit, with excursions in All daily newspapers, we understand, psychology and dissertations on ethics, keep certain biographies in type for and, speaking generally, a rounded years, to be prepared against a "sudphilosophy. The true biographer must den call;" and it would almost appear not make an idol of his subject; he as if the publishers accepted a memoir must discriminate and criticise; and he and delayed it till its subject's death, must make a laborious search after when it might issue with exquisite fittruth. Hence biography-in this severe ness a wreath for the great man's tomb sense-is rarely abused, for only the and a sop to public curiosity. Greatgreat are its objects, and the man who ness must be a dreary business for a essays it is, as a rule, a serious and man nowadays, with the consciousness competent person. But the memoir is that a crowd of dull, incompetent bioga lesser work, though not necessarily raphers will bespatter him with their in avoirdupois weight, for it may run epithets before the breath is well out to a dozen volumes. It is biography in of his body. And so come the pithless undress, the private, domestic, temper- memoirs which drive better work from amental side of life, depicted from a the field. The public are in a hurry and near point of view, and not with the must be waited on. While Mr. X's scientific aloofness of biography. It name is still in the papers it wants to may take the shape of reminiscences, know all about his education and his when, from a record of preferences and family, his recreations, his taste in impressions, a man's character stands wine, his opinions on his contemporarevealed, or its form may be the im- ries. The habit is part of the vulgar personal memoir published after death. curiosity which gives personal journalIt is a chronicle of little things, since ism its vogue; and, indeed, this pe of


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memoir is simply a systematized and knew; when Boswell builds up from padded journalism. When we read scattered anecdotes and broken converto-day that Lady S. gave dinner- sations the most complete figure of a party, at which Mr. M. was a guest, man in English letters,—then we know or that Mr. A. has gone with the Duke the value of the "little things" which of B. to the Hindu Koosh, we are mor- are the foundation of a memoir. But ally certain that some day we will read the detail must be illustrative of charall about the conversation at the din- acter, that illuminating commonplace ner and the sport of the expedition in which cannot be over-valued, or it must some gossipy memoir. Here again we be in itself a contribution to the gaiety could distinguish. All this may be in- or edification of the world. Greville teresting; possibly even of first-class gives us the stock-pot of history; Mr. historical worth; our complaint is that Froude's memoir of Carlyle, with all the atmosphe of journalism is apt to its faults, has cofound sychological blur the vital and the trivial in one un- interest; while Sir Algernon West-to distinguished chaos.

descend to lesser instances-has a keen The memoir has become too common eye for humor and the proper manner. and too careless, and all grievances These are instances of detail which is culminate in the great complaint that justified; but how often is all justificait is rarely literature. For literature tion absent? The shoals of biographies involves distinction, conscience and a of dull, pompous, priggish people, nice discrimination. Its bounds are which have no possible historical invery wide, but for that reason its terest, and none of the savor of wit, limits, when they appear, are impass- books without form or true matter, able. There is all the difference in the sandy deserts of infinite triviality,world between the gossip of a Pepys what is to be said of them? Even when and a Boswell and the chatter of the the subject is all that can be desired hack journalist. In the case of men and the author capable, the modern who have filled a great place, there may custom of haste leaves the work crude be an historical interest apart from the and incomplete. Now and then the perartistic. It may be valuable for the fect memoir, such as Sir Henry Cun. future student to know where Metter- ningham's sketch of Lord Bowen, nich or Bismarck dined on some par- arises to point the contrast; but for the ticular night, though the dinner itself rest we have our Church dignitaries, was dull. But such cases must be the our minor travellers, our heroes of the exceptions; with the common celebrity turf and our inconsiderable litterateurs we want a direct human interest. We -each in two volumes with portraits. would not for the world miss one of Some day, as we have ventured to Johnson's comments or Pepy's confes- predict, there will be an Estate-duty sions. When the little Secretary to the upon this form of wealth; but till that Admiralty chronicles his repentances enlightened hour let us insist upon the and his peccadilloes, the humors of fact that memoir-writing is an art and Lady Castlemaine, the excellence of his not a catalogue. The memoir is an wife's pasties and the glories of his essay in the science of selection, as "new summer black bombazine;" when difficult a form as any in literature. In Swift talks of Sir Patrick and Lady our own country it has been done suMasham's children, and the dinners at premely well; all the more reason, Mrs. Vanhomrigh's; when Horace Wal- therefore, why we should protest pole draws his acrid, unforgettable against its decline. In the first place portraits of the men and women he let it be restricted in subject. In the

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second place, let it be regarded as literature, and not as the casual skimmings of daily journalism. And, above all things, let its matter be compressed and assorted. The touchstone of selection may be as varied as possible, but let the selection be there. A man

(or his biographer) must be, indeed, possessed of extraordinary self-conceit if he thinks that every petty detai) of his daily life is of interest to posterity when crudely and boldly set forth. If life "demands an art" so does the memoir.

The Spectator.



(Sung at a Concert given by War Correspondents at Bloemfon

tein, April 18.)

We welcome to our hearts to-night, oh, kinsmen from afar,
Brothers in an empire's fight and comrades of our war;
For Auld Lang Syne, my lads, and the fights of Auld Lang

We drink our cup of fellowship to the fights of Auld Lang


The Shamrock, Thistle, Leek, and Rose, with Heath and

Wattle twine,
And Maple from Canadian snows, for the sake of Auld Lang

For Auld Lang Syne take hands from London to the Line;
Good luck to those that toil with us since the days of Auld

Lang Syne.

Again to all we hold most dear in the life we left behind,
The wives we wooed, the bairns we kissed, and the loves of

Auld Lang Syne.
For surely you'll have your sweetheart and surely I'll have

We toast her name in silence here and the girls of Auld Lang


And last to him, the little man who led our fighting line
From Kabul on to Kandahar, in the days of Auld Lang Syne,
For Old Lang Syne and Bobs our Chief of Auld Lang Syne,
We're here to do his work again as we did in Auld Lang Syne.


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In a very interesting article on “Eng.


FOR lish, Good and Bad," in last week's En route Literature, Mr. James R. Thursfield “Esq.”


autumn. referred to a list of words and phrases


flood. which William Cullen Bryant forbade

Gents his contributors to use when he was


is graduated. editing the New York Evening Post.


scarcely. The list is quoted by Mr. Fraser Rae Humbug in his book, "Columbia and Canada,” Inaugurate

begin. with no comment save a mention of Indebtedness

a debt.

In our midst Bryant's zeal for purity of speech. As


burial. it seems probable that many readers of


question or subject. the Academy may like to have such a


extract or paragraph. list by them, it is given below almost

Jeopardize in full-a few needless Americanisms Jubilant

rejoicing. being omitted.


boy. Lady




FOR Leniency

lenity. Above, or over

more than.

Loafer Action proceeding. Loan

to lend. Afterwards

afterward. Located Aggregate

total. Majority more, relating to places or Artiste


circumstances. Aspirant


largely. Auditorium auditory. Mutual

common, Authoress


candidate Average ordinary. Notice

observe, mention. Bagging capturing. Official

officer. Balance

remainder. Oration Banquet

dinner or supper. Over his signature Beat defeat. Pants

pantaloons. Bogus


persons. Call attention direct attention. Partially

partly. Casket cofin. Past two weeks

last two. Claimed

for asserted. Polters Collided


part. Commence begin. Prior to

before. Conclusion close, end. Progress

advance or growth. Cortège procession. Proximity

nearness. Couple


prefixed to good, large. Decade

ten years.

house. Debût


attack. Decease as a verb


obtained. Develope

to expose.

character or reputation. Devouring element

fire. Reliable

trustworthy. Donate


reject or disown, Employé


inhabitant. Endorse

approve. Retire as an active verb

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