upon if half who usually attend public meetings were to enforce that "right."

When a speech or lecture is debated, each disputant expects to occupy the same time as the speaker, which often prevents more than one being heard in reply. But a short time for several might be fixed, and thus combine discipline with disputation. Brevity of time would induce directness and brevity of speech; it is not the work of any one speaker, but the work of many to attack the whole lecture, and each should select a leading point, and ten minutes would afford time for a very effective objection if one could be raised.

At public meetings, where many opposing partie often struggle to be heard, confusion, delay, and ilst feeling might be obviated by each party preappoir-s ing a representative of ability, in whom confidere could be reposed, to speak on their behalf, and those calling the meeting being made acquaire with, and consenting to the arrangement, the v of half a dozen parties could be advocated, where th views of one are heard but inadequately and in patiently now.

e

THE first problem that has to be solved the people is one of fraternization. If we wait unity of opinion on all points is created beforeve cooperate together, reforms will be delayed ages.

The only mode whereby public success can be achieved in our day is by the union on general points of men differing on infinite particulars. But personalities constitute a serious danger. The only way to disarm them is to brave them. To court personalities is fatal to union; to shun them, fatal to reputation. The friends of a cause ought to be able to dare all opinions, and all opinions might be dared by those in the right. There can be no quarrel unless two parties engage in it, and it is always in the power of one party to prevent it by refusing to be a party to it. No man can quarrel with another without that other's consent. Hence the veto of peace and amity is always in the hands of one of the dispuants. It is often a duty to notice individual error. t is often indispensable. But the execution of such duty would not be so distasteful to the public as it w is, were it not for the unskillful manner in which s generally done. If, when objections to a public n must be made, they were well selected and ly urged, without ill-will, and when once preed left as a public warning, the practice would lt to be useful and tolerable. Instead of this e a miscellaneous fire is extended to every imple peccadillo, and conjectures called in when tinguire exhausted, until what was, or should be,

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Upc d as a public lesson becomes a gratification debate te resentment. When retaliation usurps the meeting improve another the contest sinks into perprincip.

many w often sent pupils out together in pairs to it would all deliberation and caution, and to note transacte y expletives they employ, how many errors every maumit, how insequential are their thoughts,

and how inexact their language. Indeed, how few men have disciplined themselves in these respects! How few ready, florid writers or speakers are precise! How few men have the power of being coherent! How much is said which is never meant, even by those who are most careful! How few ever acquire the habit of thinking before they speak! Passing from common life, let the experience of the bar and the closet be heard. Does not the shrewd lawyer, whose whole life is one long, laborious study of accuracy, perpetually find the Act of Parliament upon which many have labored open to three or four interpretations? And does not the philosopher daily regret the vagueness of human language? Then on what principle of good sense can we, without most patient deliberation, hurl at each other obnoxious. epithets?

What eloquence is more touching than that of a simple tale of actual wrong! The very absence of passion gives it force. The dispassionateness of its relation infuses the air of truth. The presence of passion leads us to suspect the partisan, and invective is felt to be the twin brother of exaggeration. Strength is always calm in battle. Truth imparts repose; the suffrage of mankind is always on the side of dignity. Disputants instinctively bear out the truth of all this. When a man feels that he has a strong case, we have therefore no excitement, no self-returned verdict. A man who thinks he has a clear case always feels he may safely leave it to the judgment of others. No barrister makes a long speech to the jury when the evidence is all on his side. Fitzroy Kelly never sheds tears except when he has a Tawell to defend.

All which should be done for the adjustment of a difference is, that a man should quietly understate his case, that he should make no material assertion unaccompanied by the proof, that he should make the fairest allowance for his rival's excitement, put the best possible construction on his words and acts, and leave the matter there. All whose suffrages are worth having will make the proper award on his side without further trouble on his part. The reason of so many departures from this rule is the want of courage or the want of sense. It is a common opinion, that if a man does not bluster and retort, he is deficient in spirit. It is this apprehension which betrays weak men into violence, and to prove themselves independent they become rude and insolent, and mistake the part of the bravo for that of the hero. But a man of disciplined intelligence knows that courage always pursues its own resolute way without noise or ostentation, firmly preserves its independence, stands immovable in frankness and kindness corrects misrepresentation, repairs any injury it may have done, silences slander with the truth, and goes on its way. No wise man answers a fool according to his folly. He shows that it is folly, and abandons it to die by its own hands.

A few years ago a couple of Dutchmen, Von Vampt and Van Bones, lived on friendly terms on the high hills of Limestone. At last they fell out over a dog. Von Vampt killed Van Bones's canine companion. Bones, choosing to assume the killing to have been intentional, sued Vampt for damages. They were called in due time into court, when the defendant in the case was asked by the judge whether he killed the dog. "Pe sure I kilt him," said Vampt,

"but let Bones prove it." This being quite satisfactory, the plaintiff in the action was called on to answer a few questions, and among others he was asked by the judge at what amount he estimated the damages. He did not well understand the question, and so, to be a little plainer, the judge inquired what he thought the dog to be worth?. "Pe sure," replied Bones, "the dog was worth nothing; but since he was so mean as to kill him, he shall pay de full value of him." How many suits have occupied the attention of courts, how many contests have engaged the time of the public, and have been waged with virulence and invective, having no more worthy difference than that of Von Vampt and Van Bones!"

At every step, however, we are admonished how conscientiously a man can be in the wrong. Many enter the quagmire of recrimination as a matter of duty rather than taste. The question is commonly put, "Ought we not to state all we know to be true?" I answer, no; unless it can be shown to be useful. Every man knows a thousand things which are true, but which it would profit nobody to hear. When we essay to speak the rule is imperative that we speak the truth, absolutely and truly the truth, if one may write so paradoxically; but of what truth we will communicate, good sense must be the judge, utility the measure. If all truth must be published without regard to propriety, William Rufus, who drew a tooth per day from a rich Jew's head to induce him to tell where his treasures were concealed, was a great moral philosopher. "Well, but what a man believes to be true and useful may he not state?" will be inquired of me. I answer, no;