Trotwood appreciates the criticism above, from a scholar in one of the best schools in the South. The more so because we do not claim any particular credit for making Trotwood’s different. We are picturing naturally the life around us—its songs, traditions and ideals. We could make our Monthly twice as large by using syndicate matter. But it will add nothing to the thought of the Monthly nor to its quality.


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“W. C. C. C.

there are in Scotland, but the Scottish crofter, although he remains a tenant on a large estate, has, at the present time, a more secure position on the soil than the man who rents his land in Bohemia. In other respects the Scotch Highlanders, whose country I had just left, and the Czechs, whose country I was just entering, are, I should say, about as different as one could well imagine.


And thereafter Mrs. Moxton ruled the household of Oswald according to the laws and habits of the late Mr. Justice Benlees, who had evidently been a very wise, comfortable, and intelligent man. When she came on from the uncongenial furniture at Margate to the comfort and beauty of Pelham Ford she betrayed a certain approval by expanding 288an inch or so in every direction and letting out two new chins, but otherwise she made no remark. She radiated decorum and a faint smell of lavender. She had, it seemed, always possessed a black-watered-silk dress and a gold chain. Even Lady Charlotte approved of her.

The touch from the hand of a seventh son cures the bite of a mad dog. This is also an Italian superstition.

"Naix Sunday, at chu'ch, Miss Letty see de

For a moment they looked at each other. The man's eyes were cold and contemptuous, and the woman's sense of injury and injustice increased till she felt wellnigh desperate. To think that she should have been dragged home like a naughty little girl from a party, who must be sent to bed as a punishment, while everyone else was still dancing and enjoying the ball!--and Mr. Kennard would have found another partner whose husband was not a monster of unreasonable jealousy. Perhaps he would smile and shrug his shoulders, and cease now to send her violets every morning,

But now I want you to think a little of what is Truth. It is clear you cannot tell the truth unless you know what truth is. Well, what is truth? One thing, I think, will occur to you all at once as part at least of the answer. Truth is straightness. When we say a ruler is true we mean that it is straight, and when we say a wall or a corner is out of truth we mean that it isnt straight. And, in vulgar parlance, when we say a man is a straight man we mean one 117whose acts and words are true. And another thing of which our great teacher Ruskin so often reminds us is, that Truth is Simplicity. True people are always simple, and simple people are usually too simple to be anything but true. Truth never explains. It never argues. When I have to ask a girland sometimes I have to ask a girldid she or did she not do this or that, then if she answers me simply and straightly Yes or No, I feel I am getting the truth, but if she answers back, that depends, or Please, Miss Murgatroyd, may I explain just how it was? then I know that there is something comingsomething else coming, and not the straight and simple, the homespun, simple, valiant English Truth at all. Yes and No are the true words, because as Plato and Aristotle and the Greek philosophers generally taught us in the Science of Logic long ago, and taught it to us for all time, a thing either is or else it is not; it is no good explaining or trying to explain, nothing can ever alter that now for ever. Either you did do the thing or you didnt do the thing. There is no other choice. That is the very essence of Logic; it would be impossible to have Logic without it....

Two more men came up to the bench. One was wearing a linen duster; and fell to grooming King’s incredibly massive coat with expert hands. The other—a plump giant in exaggeratedly vivid clothes—chirped to the dog and ran careless fingers over the silken head. The collie waved his plumed tail in response to the caress. Recalling how coldly King had ignored his own friendly advances, Jamie Mackellar addressed the plump man in deep respect.

[Pg 282]

“Those Germans are seldom caught asleep at the switch, are they?” asked Amos.

1.the harrowing uncertainty of what George had been about to say to her when delirium had intervened. Nothing in his wanderings had given her the smallest clue. As frequently happens when sickness causes derangement, the subject nearest his mind had seemingly fled. He babbled of trifles, of things that had never occurred, and complained with fractious persistence that a tortoise-shell cat with no eyes would sit on his bed.

2.throw no new light on the subject. In the following more or less paraphrased condensation the number of words is greatly reduced but the substance of the original is, in the main, retained.





"You see," he explained to us, when we withdrew to make our preparation, "you have no characters at all, and can consort with the Grand Turk, if you choose, but I am respectable and cannot afford to take liberties with myself."


“Certainly” ses he at wunce, “but I belave I cud see it better if I cam a little nearer.” Wid that he joomps over the fince and walks to where Miss Claire is neeling. Together they look at the airth.


system, in which a responsible man owned nearly absolutely wife and offspring. All its laws and sentiments alike are derived from the reduction and qualification of that.

. . .