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there to the Peace River country, and thence by Lake Athabasca and Great Slave Lake to the Mackenzie River or the Coppermine River. I propose to winter at Hudson's Bay Fort, and in the spring to come down in a southeasterly direction with the great flotilla of fur-laden canoes, to York Factory on Hudson's Bay, and then to take the yearly ship home to London."

Mr. Baring-Gould.

In Cassell's Family Magazine the novelist placed under requisition is Mr. Baring-Gould. When he was asked how he thought out his plots he replied: "Well, I have done a good deal of that work myself in bed. If I have reached any crucial point in a story, if I am embarrassed as to which of several courses to adopt, I can practically think of nothing else till it is settled; it is the last thing I can think of on going to sleep at night and the first on wakening in the morning. The story of Mehalah,' I remember, was thought out in the course of one sleepless night when I had my living of Mersea, in Essex. I had spent the greater part of the day with the superintendent of the coastguard, who had taken me in his boat to a deserted old house on the dreary marshes. In this uncanny place, in fact, we had eaten a frugal lunch. When I went to bed the spot haunted me, and almost unconsciously I began to make it the scene of a story. The very next day I started writing out the story and gave all my leisure to it till the book was finished.

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As a rule I write one novel a year. People have got an impression, I think, that as a novelist I am much more prolific. This is probably because two or three books of mine have happened to appear simultaneously, owing to publishing arrangements with which you are doubtless familiar. As I have told you, I work hard at a book when once it is begun ; but its preparation occupies me not a little time. I do not keep note-books, but trust entirely to my memory for incidents, impressions, etc. I think out my plot and my characters without having recourse to paper, and, before actually beginning the MS., merely make a précis of the contents of each chapter. Occasionally I take a character from real life, considerably modifying it, however, in doing so."

Miss M. Betham-Edwards.

In the Young Woman Miss M. Betham-Edwards gives the following account of the way in which she does her work: "In summer I rise at 6.30 A.M., take half an hour's stroll on the Downs, read for half an hour some favorite classic (I have now in hand the Prometheus of Eschylus, which I almost know by heart), then I work till 1 P.M., allowing no interruption. A little rest after lunch, a walk, tea -often partaken with sympathetic friend or friends, sometimes the excuse for a little reunion. Then, from 5 to 8 in my study again, this time to read, not write, and give myself the relaxation of a little music. Occasional visits to London or elsewhere, two months or more in France every year-this is my existence."

"Which of your books, Miss Betham-Edwards, best gives your views of life?"

"The Sylvestres,' 'Disarmed,' 'The Romance of a French Parsonage,' and 'Felicia.' If I am asked my opinion as to the secret of a happy life, I should say, first and foremost, the conviction of accomplishing conscientiously what as an individual you are most fitted for; next, the cultivation of the widest intellectual, moral, and social sympathies (especially in the matter of friendships); and lastly, freedom from what I will call social superstitions -that is, indifference to superficial conventionalities and the verdict of the vulgar; in other words, the preservation of one's freedom, of what the French call une vie de dégagée.

"I may here say, once for all, that I began to write without any thought of money or fame, simply and solely because I felt it my vocation."

Sarah Grand.

The Woman at Home describes Sarah Grand at home. In the course of the article the interviewer thus reports the authoress' views on the "Heavenly Twins:" "I think," said Sarah Grand slowly," that the time was ripe for such a book. I had the strongest conviction that there was something very wrong in the present state of society, and in the 'Heavenly Twins' I did what I could to suggest a remedy. That the thought of cultured readers, both in England and America, had been running in the same direction, was shown by the welcome which my theories received. I have had the kindest letters from entire strangers, thanking me for speaking out so fearlessly. Medical men, too, have written, commending the accuracy of the physiological parts of the book. One reviewer, I may mention, suggested that it would be well for me to take a course of physiology. The fact is, that for five years I made a close study of the sub

ject under eminent medical men. I should greatly deprecate any change that would tend to make women less womanly. My theory of the relations of the sexes is not to lower the woman, but to raise the man."

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Mrs. Sarah Grand refused to tell even the title of her new book. Her lips are sealed upon any work on which she is engaged. She says: Contrary to the practice of a well-known novelist, every bit of whose work is hammered out in conversation before he puts pen to paper, and who discusses each character, each scene, even the slightest incidents and dovetailings, I never speak of my unpublished book. To my work such a method would be fatal. My ideas would become common when passed from lip to lip. I think it is not enough to lock only one's manuscript in a bureau; I have to keep the whole delicate process of creation concealed from any outside criticism."

The interviewer gives the following details concerning Sarah Grand's sympathy with the poor of her own sex: She has interested herself in the poor girls of London. She goes every Thursday evening

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when in town to Mrs. Frederic Harrison's Girls' Guild at Newton Hall, Fetter Lane, and there she joins like a sister in the amusements and occupations of the members. 'This summer,' she told me, 'we have provided our girls with very pretty uniforms for gymnastics, and many of them look charming in them-you would hardly know them for the pale, pinched-looking London work girl.'

"Servants, too, have long attracted Madame Sarah Grand's warm sympathy. She is making a study of the character of a little servant girl from the country, who may some day play her part among the great ladies of Morningquest."

Μ'

CONCERNING "SHIPS THAT PASS."

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ISS HARRADEN tells, in the January McClure's, many entertaining facts about her now famous book, "Ships that Pass in the Night." She certainly deserves the pleasure of being able to chronicle now that "it has succeeded in spite of its publishers," a reflection which must be all the sweeter in that they said it could not possibly sell; that it was morbid and pessimistic from beginning to end; that the attempts at sentiment and pathos rang false; that there was nothing original in it. But for all that, if it had been in three volumes, they would have published it, as they admired the style and appreciated the workmanship-or words somewhat to that effect."

These publishers were without a doubt one of the shrewdest and most enterprising firms in the world, and there is scarcely a better example of the difficulty of judging the value of a book before it has been given to folks to read. It is certainly not in order to rail at these mistaken gentlemen, for the loss of the book was a misfortune which not the most censorious could construe into a fault.

HOW THE BOOK WAS WRITTEN.

Miss Harraden had despaired of a title, and finally used Longfellow's words, being unconscious of their derivation. The story was written after a severe and very weakening illness.

"When I began my work again, I had no idea of inventing a story about Petershof; but as I bent lazily over the blank sheet of paper, memories of the Kurhaus came crowding over me, and, much to my own astonishment, the first chapter contrived itself. But that did not help me greatly, for I could not think what to make out of the characters which I had thus casually introduced on the scene; but I went on in a dull kind of way, not knowing from one sentence to another what I was going to say next. And, indeed, it was not until I arrived at the thirteenth chapter that I felt I was beginning to take hold of my people and to form some vague idea of what might possibly be done with them. But for all that, it was a very vague idea; and, indeed, the dimness of purpose pursued me to the last word of the book. The great drawback was that I could not use my hand for more than a quarter of an hour or so at a time; and in consequence of this hindrance my work seemed to me hopelessly disconnected, done in

such snatches, and without the advantage of continuous application. But, with the exception of a word here and there, I made no alterations, and the pages stand just as I originally wrote them."

PHILIP GILBERT HAMERTON.

NE of the last of Mr. Hamerton's literary pro

ONE of last of Hamerton's

Forum entitled "The Chief Influences on my Career.' Mr. Hamerton sums the matter up in his opening par graph:

"The most powerful influences over my life have been: 1. Literature. 2. Nature in Landscape. 3. The Graphic Arts. 4. Society. It may seem strange that I should put human intercourse last, but the reason is that I have lived very much in the country, both in England and France, and especially in Scotland, where books and landscapes were more easily accessible than cultivated people. Society, for me, has been chiefly in London, and, in a minor degree, in Paris. My debt to books is infinite and my love of reading seems to increase with age. As for natural landscape, it has always been to me an unfailing pleasure, an inexhaustible study, and a source of refreshment and consolation. The Graphic Arts interested me first because they could represent landscape more or less faithfully; not till later did I understand them as an expression of human sentiment and creative genius."

Mr. Hamerton's boyhood days were passed in the country, but the country, he says, "teaches nothing by itself," and he soon became acquainted with city life in Manchester and London. He never knew his mother, who died very early, and he lost his father in his tenth year. He missed the advantages of Oxford because he found himself unable to sign the thirty-nine articles. He acquired, however, a good classical education, but at eighteen he determined to be a landscape painter.

CHOICE OF AN ARTIST'S CAREER.

"I had always been in the habit of drawing and had learned almost from childhood what drawingmasters used to teach in those days. It did not amount to very much, but it helped to foster the intensely strong instinct of affection that I had for the scenery of the north of England and still more for the sublimer scenery of Scotland. This brought me under new influences, as it led me to make the acquaintance of some artists in London and elsewhere, while, for the time, I completely abandoned my classical studies just when they might have been most profitable and most effectual. However, the pursu t of painting gave me access to other ideas which were a great refreshment to my mind and increased my interest in nature. Besides this, it enlarged my acquaintance with mankind. Young gentlemen in England were then exclusively under the direction of clergymen. I had been so myself from the age of five to that of eighteen. In the provincial upper class at that time artists were personally quite unknown and were supposed to be idle and disreputable."

REMINISCENCES OF DICKENS.

IN the Christmas number of the Young Man and

Charles Dickens' daughter, which contains many interesting items concerning the great novelist. The following paragraphs give an account of the absorption of Dickens in his work :

"He was usually alone when at work, though there were, of course, some occasional exceptions, and I myself constituted such an exception. During our life at Tavistock House I had a long and serious illness, with an almost equally long convalescence. During the latter my father suggested that I should be carried every day into his study, to remain with him, and although I was fearful of disturbing him, he assured me that he desired to have me with him. On one of these mornings I was lying on the sofa endeavoring to keep perfectly quiet, while my father wrote busily and rapidly at his desk, when he suddenly jumped from his chair and rushed to a mirror which hung near and in which I could see the reflection of some extraordinary facial contortions which he was making. He returned rapidly to his desk, wrote furiously for a few minutes, and then went again to the mirror. The facial pantomime was resumed, and then turning toward, but evidently not seeing me, he began talking rapidly in a low voice. Ceasing this soon, however, he returned once more to his desk, where he remained silently writing until luncheon time. It was a curious experience for me and one of which I did not, until later years, fully appreciate the purport. Then I knew that with his natural intensity he had thrown himself completely into the character that he was creating, and that for the time being he had not only lost sight of his surroundings, but had actually become in action, as in imagination, the personality of his pen.

PREOCCUPATION.

"After the morning's close work he was sometimes quite preoccupied when he came in to luncheon. Often when we were only our home party at Gad's Hill, he would come in, take something to eat in a mechanical way, and return to his study to finish the work he had left, scarcely having spoken a word. Our talking at these times did not seem to disturb him, though any sudden sound, as the dropping of a spoon or the clicking of a glass, would send a spasm of pain across his face.'

"The railway accident which befell Dickens in June, 1865, has naturally impressed itself very clearly upon his daughter's memory. She speaks of the irresistible feeling of intense dread from which Dickens was afterward apt to suffer whenever he found himself in any kind of conveyance. One occasion,' she says, I especially recall; while we were on our way from London to our little country station, Higham, where the carriage was to meet us, my father suddenly clutched the arms of the railwaycarriage seat, while his face grew ashy pale, and great drops of perspiration stood upon his forehead, and though he tried hard to master the dread, it was

so strong that he had to leave the train at the next station. The accident had left its impression upon the memory, and it was destined never to be effaced. The hours spent upon railroads were thereafter hours of pain to him. I realized this often when traveling with him, and no amount of assurance could dispel the feeling.""

TH

MR. FROUDE.

'HERE is an interesting paper in Blackwood's Magazine by Mr. Skelton, who describes with the enthusiasm of a friend and a disciple his late master, the historian Froude.

MR. FROUDE'S PERSONAL APPEARANCE. "He was a singularly bright and vivacious companion; his smile was winning as a woman's; possibly he did not always unbend, but when he unbent he unbent wholly. In congenial society he was ready to discourse on every topic in the heaven above or on the earth beneath; and when at his best he was not only a brilliant and picturesque but a really suggestive talker. But while he had a passionate scorn of meanness and truckling, he had an equally passionate reverence for truth, as he understood it, whatever guise it assumed. The mask might be sometimes as impassive as Disraeli's; but behind it was an almost tremulous sensitiveness-a tenderness easily wounded. His presence was striking and impressive-coal-black eyes, wonderfully lustrous and luminous ('eyes full of genius-the glow from within'-as Dr. John Brown said); coal-black hair, only latterly streaked with gray; massive features strongly lined-massive yet mobile, and capable of the subtlest play of expression. For myself I can say without any reserve that he was, upon the whole, the most interesting man I have ever known. To me, moreover, not only the most interesting, but the most steadfastly friendly."

MR. FROUDE ON THE CALVINISM OF TO-DAY.

Mr. Skelton then quotes extensively from a series of letters stretching over the last thirty years of Mr. Froude's life, from which we extract some of the more characteristic passages. Speaking of some of the more debased or degraded developments of Scotch Calvinism, Mr. Froude asserts: "Alas! that Knox's Kirk should have sunk down into the thing which is represented in those verses. . . . The horrible creed is not new. Thomas Aquinas says much the same. And after all, if it is once allowed that God Almighty will torture poor devils for ever and ever for making mistakes on the nature of the Trinity, I don't see why any quantity of capricious horrors may not be equally true. Given the truth of what all English orthodox parsons profess to believe, and Hephzibah Jones may believe as much more in the same line as he pleases. Only I think our opinion ought to have been asked as to whether we would accept existence on such terms before we were sent into the world."

THAT OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.

Of Calvinism itself Mr. Froude was a great admirer, although it was the Calvanism of the sixteenth

century rather than that of the nineteeth that commanded his devotion. On this point he says: "It is a paradox to say that old Calvinism was not doctrinal in the face of the Institute; but it is astonishing to find how little in ordinary life they talked or wrote about doctrine. The doctrine was never more than the dress. The living creature was wholly moral and political,-so at least I think myself."

Speaking of his lecture on Calvinism on another occasion, Mr. Froude wrote: "I don't mean to meddle with the metaphysical puzzle, but to insist on the fact historically that this particular idea has several times appeared in the world under different forms and always with the most powerful moral effect. The last reappearance of it in Spinoza, and virtually in Goethe, is the most singular of all. They have believed in Election, Predestination, and, generally, the absolute arbitrary sovereignty of God; and these, and not the moderate Liberals and the reasonable prudent people who seem to us most commendable, have had the shaping of the world's destinies."

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THE DAMNABILITY OF THE SATURDAY REVIEW." Another curious expression of his religious belief comes out in a letter in which he expressed his sympathy with Swinburne : "The Saturday Review temperament is ten thousand thousand times more damnable than the worst of Swinburne's skits. Modern respectability is so utterly without God, faith, heart; it shows so singular ingenuity in assailing and injuring everything that is noble and good, and so systematic a preference for what is mean and paltry, that I am not surprised at a young fellow dashing his heels into the face of it."

RUSSIAN AND TURK.

Mr. Froude's political opinions found free expression in these letters. Of politicians he had the lowest opinion. Regarding Lord Palmerston he wrote in 1865 "Pam. cares for nothing but popularity; he will do what the people most interested wish; and he would appoint the Devil over the head of Gabriel if he could gain a vote by it."

His distrust of Gladstone made him look kindly even on Lord Beaconsfield. "I see plainly that Gis driving the ship into the breakers.

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I mentioned at a party of M. P.'s the other night that throughout human history the great orators had been invariably proved wrong. There were shrieks of indignation; but at last it was allowed that facts looked as if it were true. Will you write on Dizzy now?"

Mr. Froude was very hearty Anti-Turk, his sentiments on that subject bringing him for once into line with Mr. Freeman and Mr. Gladstone. Writing in September, 1877, after the first reverses before Plevna, he said: "This Eastern business is very frightful, and will bring an ugly train of mischiefs behind it, worse than any which were anticipated. No European government can allow Moslem fanaticism to come off completely victorious. The Turk, I fear, is like the bull in a Spanish circus. However splen

didly he fights, and however many men and horses he kills, he is none the less finished off in the end by somebody. Providence, that 'loves to disappoint the devil,' will probably bring one good out of it all-a reform of the Russian administration. That democracies should promote the wrong man to high place is natural enough, but there is no excuse for an autocrat."

Of men of letters Mr. Froude had but small opinion. He said on one occasion: "The ablest men in the country at this time, I believe, are lawyers, engineers, men of science, doctors, statesmen, anything but authors. If we have only four supreme men at present alive among us, and if Browning and Ruskin are two of those, the sooner you and I emigrate the better." The whole of the article is full of interesting passages, of which these are but samples.

THE POPULAR PRESENTATION OF ENGLISH LITERATURE.

"U

NIVERSITY EXTENSION" contains an article by Professor W. P. Trent, of the University of the South, on "The Popular Presentation of English Literature," the substance of which is as follows:

Critical reviews and magazines do not reach the masses. Schools and colleges can at best only train the next generation. The only means available for the present is the popular lecture courses, such as University Extension provides. The authors and other star lecturers who still keep up the traditions of the Lyceum, cater to popular amusement, or sometimes to the higher tastes of the cultured few. But it may fairly be assumed that any serious effort to educate the people will follow the methods of Extension. How, then, do these methods deal with literature and criticism?

First, should each of these lecture courses (1) treat a series of detached authors, or (2) deal with a defined period, or (3) discuss more exhaustively a single category or topic-e. g., the sonnet? A lecture on a favorite author may stimulate a few to read him. It can hardly train the hearer's critical faculties at the same time. The discussion of a period unifies the course better; but literary history is not literature. It does not teach us to discriminate and appreciate. It should be pursued with caution, therefore, even in the University, - much more sparingly in popular work.

The third method meets the general and rightful demand for scientific treatment. Knowledge of flowers can be imparted only by botanical science. The sonnet may be made the subject of as attractive and profitable a course as the flora of a region, or comets, or magnetism. Of course, the popular lecturer cannot presuppose knowledge of Italian, nor refer to a library of books. But Palgrave's "Golden Treasury of Song and Lyrics" alone offers rich material. The popular discussion of single authors should lead the communities up to their scientific work in their second or third course.

The lecturer should speak extempore as far as possible. He should avoid minute detail. He should not suddenly and harshly shock his audience's prejudices -e. g., by saying smart things at the expense of an author generally beloved, like Longfellow, or Lew Wallace. Nor should his hearers be rudely reminded of their own limitations. In general, the teacher should cultivate sympathy with his audiences, and not ride his own hobbies.

Recent critics ridicule Extension for offering culture to housemaids. But popular suffrage is an accomplished fact, and popular education is also a necessity. Progress consists of such risky stages. No agency is an unmixed blessing, but Extension aids in the war against ignorance. Its lecturers on literature can bring some appreciation of Shakespeare or Homer to those now blind. Some may thereby be rendered discontented with useful tasks. But the sun is not to stop shining because some eyes are weak, nor shall all candles be extingushed to save the foolish moths.

SOME

OUR LEGISLATURES.

OME very sensible remarks, both in criticism and defense of American legislative bodies, are offered by Mr. Raymond L. Bridgman in the American Journal of Politics for December. Mr. Bridgman justly complains that the people do not appreciate the true function of these bodies.

"Neither the function of the legislature as a political factor, nor its opportunities for the exercise of high political talent, nor its intimate connection with the development of the body politic are appreciated by the people as a whole. It is to the discredit of the people that they fail to rise to the standard of appreciation and to the noble demand for service which are the due of the law-making body. In the very nature of the case, above the will of man, is the law of the well-being of the state. To attain a right conception of this law and to put it in practice is the noblest service any man can render his fellows. There stands the legislature, created, in so far as men recognize the laws above them, by a will above the human will, an unconscious embodiment of that will, in so far as it is composed of individual human wills, in an attitude of obedience to the good of the state, a body above which there is nothing on earth to control its constitutional action, most honorable in its place in the reign of law and order, most important in its service, most dignified in its acts, most necessary to the good of every person in the state. To the institution, as such, too great honor will never be paid, however much we may condemn the individuals of any particular year. Too lofty a conception cannot be held of what it ought to be in its relation to the people. How much, then, are the voters unworthy of the good they might get from it who pursue the almighty dollar during the entire year, except an hour on election day (and many do not give even that hour), and have little thought of the exalted character and function of that body to which they

elect the members? How inevitable is it that with a legislature elected with so little of appreciation beforehand, there should be so little of appreciation afterward, and that what has been made with contemptuous disregard of its lofty worth should be treated with contempt after its work is done?"

THE CABINET AND ITS SECRETS.

N Cassell's Family Magazine, Sir T. Wemyss Reid has a gossipy article concerning "The British Cabinet and Its Secrets," in the course of which he brings out very clearly how surprising it is that Cabinet secrets should be so well kept.

A secret that is known to twenty people is usually regarded as no secret at all; but Cabinet secrets are usually known to a score of persons, and yet they have seldom, hardly ever, leaked out. Sir Wemyss Reid says: "It is all the more surprising that these secrets should be kept so well, seeing that they cannot be confined entirely to the actual members of the Cabinet. The private secretaries of the Prime Minister and of at least one or two other Ministers know many of the most important secrets. Yet there is only one recorded instance of a private secretary betraying his chief. Nor is this all. When the Cabinets are being held small dispatch boxes are constantly being sent round among the members. These contain the most confidential documents, important dispatches, drafts of bills, memoranda addressed by individual members of the Cabinet to their colleagues, and the comments of the latter upon them; and all these documents are printed. It is true that each bears upon it the words, 'Most secret; for the use of the Cabinet.' But, remembering how other private and confidential documents have become public, one may well wonder at the almost complete immunity from disasters of this kind that these Cabinet documents have enjoyed. They are printed, I ought to say, in the confidential printing department at the Foreign Office, where the subordinates are as trustworthy as if they were private secretaries or even Cabinet Ministers themselves.

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Accidents happen sometimes, of course, but it is wonderful how even then good fortune seems to follow the attempt to guard these august secrets from the profane gaze. When the Home Rule bill of 1893 was being prepared by the Cabinet, and when the most intense curiosity prevailed everywhere as to its character, a member of a certain famous club went up to a table in the club library to write a letter. He noticed that some printed documents had been left on the table by the gentleman who last sat there, and he was about to push them carelessly on one side when his eye caught certain words. Among the documents was the secret draft copy of the Home Rule bill."

The person into whose hands this precious document fell was a confidential private secretary, who promptly sealed up the Cabinet secret and dispatched it to its owner. Notwithstanding all this secrecy, however, there are occasional stories of scenes which

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