Although this list is interesting and helpful, it may be compared to a bag filled with bones of contention-and these fairly rattle. Take Bryant's first objection: "Above" is not to be used in the sense of "more than." That is to say, we may not write: "There are above a hundred misprints in this edition." Well, we should prefer "more than" a hundred here, but we dare not insist in face of the Bible sentence: "He was seen of above five hundred brethren at once." Swift in "Gulliver's Travels," has "I heard a knocking for above an hour," and there are many other sanctions. For "over" in the sense of "more than" there can be no justification. The objection to "afterwards" for "afterward" seems fantastic. Aggregate is certainly often used when "total," "entire," or "whole" would be more correct. "Aggregate" pre-supposes that the elements forming a whole are separately visible, or are being contemplated. Hence, we think, one would say "the aggregate shipments of tea," but not the "aggregate export of tea." "Artiste." Vile word, say the purists. But it and other vile words have something to say for themselves. It is said that you may not write: artiste for artist, official for officer, scientist for man of science, lengthy for long, as if "artiste," "official," "scientist" and "lengthy" were vulgar synonyms for "artist," "officer," "man of science" and "long." They are not; and it is the fact that many words, which appear to be corruptions of other words, are really rude but healthy offshoots, doing special duty. It is idle to contend that "artist" ought to be used in all cases where "artiste" is heard. "Artist" is one of the least precise words in the language, yet, with all its breadth, it can rarely be trusted to indicate the commonest types of artist -persons who are proficient in a small minor art, as distinct from one of the fine arts. A ballet-dancer, a hairdresser, or a cook, is called an artiste, because in such cases it has been found that "artist" requires a context or a qualification. In short, "artiste" is a useful, if ugly, variation of "artist," and it was improvised to do the work which "artist" failed to do. Coin a better word, if you will, but meanwhile "artiste" has a right to exist. Similarly "official" is not usually used for "officer," as Bryant's injunction implies. There is a difference. An "officer" of the P. & O. Steamship Company is a captain or mate, in uniform; an "official" of the P., & O. Steamship Company is a man from the office, in a tall hat. No doubt journalists write 痛 of "officials" where they might write Surely "lengthy annota- One of Mr. Bryant's most doubtful "approve" has something to say for itself. You approve a course of action not yet carried out; you endorse an action already completed. In this sense endorse is a good word; nothing could be more significant. But when a speaker rises and says: "I endorse all that Mr. So-and-So says," he justly falls under Bryant's wrath. "Freshet" for "flood" is a leader-writer's worda piece of professionalism. "Hardly" and "scarcely" should be discriminatively separated in one's mind. "Leniency" is not required, "lenity being identical in meaning, and nearer to the root. "Partially" is often used when "partly" would be better; and yet there is a distinction which often justifies the selection of "partially." "Partly" suggests that the part indicated The Academy. known and measured by the writer; "partially" suggests only a general incompleteness. "Record" for "character" or "reputation" is not pleasant. "Retire," as an active adverb (he was retired on a pension), is not unpardonable in connections where it is almost a technical term. "Rôle" was adopted because it was needed; and métier was brought in to reinforce it. It is our own fault that these words are rife. "Transpire" has never been defended; and "vicinity" seems to us to be the least useful word in the language. “Would seem" is a curious phrase. It is milder than "it seems;" but instead of "it would seem" write, if possible, “it almost seems." "Try an experiment" is nonsense. "Subsequently" is original is sin. FREEDOM'S SLAVE. Shake the poisoned dust of cities from your feet, Shun the vice, the masquerade, and the veneer, Where all-devouring envy sits at meat, And the wealthy greets the beggar with a sneer; Leave behind the sullen stillness of the Post,' The death-in-life that turns the heart to stone, Be yourself the guest, let Nature be your host, And seek for hope where cities are unknown! Cinch the saddle to the cayuse till he squeals, Ah, to watch the ranges lifting through the haze, 1 I.e., trading-post. To see the moon reflected from the lake, The squirrel and the porcupine, the owl, The gale that tears the balsam from his place, And lull you to the passage of your dreams; Are you hungered? Go and seek the giant moose, And his lordly flesh will serve you for the time; That score the glossy velvet from their tines; When the ptarmigan are calling from the fells, Their voices are the story Nature tells, The meshes of the trammel that she weaves; For each sound will leave a record on the ear, And each sight will stamp an imprint on the brain, A treasure-hoard of memory to revere When you tread the artificial world again. When your latest fire in camp has smouldered low, Leonard S Higgs, Saturna Island, British Columbia. The Spectator. LADIES AT THE FRONT. Admirers of the fascinating Mrs. Rawdon Crawley will remember that some of the most interesting episodes in a remarkable career took place at Brussels while the British army was on its way to the front. History, in deed, repeats itself in incongruous, if analogous, situations, and South Africa under present circumstances would appear to offer many features of resemblance to the Belgian capital in 1815. Then, as now, a brilliant train of campfollowers hung round the skirts of the army and contributed not a little to the embarrassment of the warriors when duty tore them away. "Numbers of English families-some drawn thither out of solicitude for relations in the army, others out of simple curiosity and love of excitement, thronged the hotels and lodginghouses. The town was crowded with fashionable non-combatants." This sentence, taken from Sir Herbert Maxwell's "Wellington," might have been written by any correspondent at the Cape to-day. For the novelist in search of situations, society under such conditions presents many attractive objects for study. Becky Sharp is an immortal type, and repays study under all skies, but wars after all are not waged to supply romance-writers with copy, and the Commissariat Department does not exist to feed "persons travelling merely for health or recreation." These considerations seem at length to have forced themselves upon the notice of Sir Alfred Milner, who, not too soon, has called attention to them in a despatch which certainly does not err on the side of severity. It is gratifying to potice that "Field Marshal Commanding-in-Chief fully concurs in the views expressed in it." Sir Alfred Milner, however, as a bach elor, is in a position of greater freedom and less responsibility purely domestic, and may therefore act for the public good without the semblance of contravening his precepts by his own example. We cannot but regret that Lord Roberts himself has not recognized that in this respect, to use the words of Burke, "his situation should have been the preceptor of his duty." The growing crowd of adventurers and pleasure-seekers doubtless counts its Joe Sedleys in inconvenient numbers, but we are not concerned with these worthies. Their woes will not deeply affect their fellow-men in the fighting line. The spectacle of these would-be sight-seers foiled in their ignoble pursuit of the sensational, and lining the hither bank of the Orange River like the souls who were deemed unworthy to cross the Styx, may excite ridicule for a day, but the matter is very different when the offenders are women. Their presence at the front constitutes a problem so thorny, and a scandal so grave, that it was high time some attempt should be made to meet and deal with it. It is not the Becky Sharps who form the real embarrassment. They may be trusted to shift for themselves. It is the arrival of the virtuous and sentimental wives whose presence is daily doubling the anxieties of overworked husbands and halving their rations. The mordant fancy of the foreign satirist could never have invented a situation so cruelly apt for caricature as that devoted lady's, who, repulsing all blandishments, still clings to her seat at Norvals Pont until the unhappy transport officer finds no way out of the difficulty but to shunt the car itself on to a siding. According to an experienced correspondent, this indecent |