"which" and "who." He never entered into the distinction of meaning between those two and "that" as a relative. Like many other writers, he used "that" only as a relief after too many "whiches." Here is an example: "Inasmuch as any, even unintentional, deviation from truth does that much towards weakening the trustworthiness of human assertion, which is not only the principal support of all present social well-being, but the insufficiency of which does more than anything that can be named to keep back civilization, virtue-everything on which human happiness on the largest scale depends." Early familiarity with French is apt to produce an insensibility to the clogging effect of a great number of " whiches," and a consequent inattention to the many easy devices for keeping clear of the excess.

In the use of the pronoun "it,” he did not display the care usually taken by good writers of the present day, to avoid uncertainty and ambiguity of reference.

His father's weakness for the "I know not" form is occasionally seen in him also.

Instances of looseness not falling under any special type are frequent enough. The following might possibly have been corrected if he had lived to superintend the printing of the work where it occurs :- "The patience of all the founders of the society was at last exhausted, except me and Roebuck."

Of arts of the rhetorical kind in the structure of his sentences he was by no means wanting. He could be short and pithy, which goes a great way. He had likewise caught up, probably in a good measure from the French writers, his peculiar epigrammatic smartness, which he practised also in conversation. He would often express himself thus: "It is one thing to tell the rich that they ought to take care of the poor; and another thing to tell the poor that the rich ought to take care of them." A historian, he says, must possess gifts of imagination; "and what is rarer still, he must forbear to abuse them." "With the genius for producing a great historical romance, he must have the virtue to add nothing to what can be proved to be true.” To the attacks made upon the French historians for superficiality and want of research, he replies with a piquancy that is more than mere style :"Voltaire gave false views of history in many respects, but not falser than Hume's; Thiers* is inaccurate, but not less so than Sir Walter Scott."

*Pr. Te-air. Louis Adolphe Thiers (1797-1877), French historian and statesman.

He was not deficient in the power of illustration by metaphor and allusion, although he could not in this respect compare with men whose strength consists mainly in the power of expression. Moreover, as expository style requires that illustrations should be apposite, their employment is limited with precise writers.

As a whole, I should say that Mill was wanting in strength, energy, or momentum. His happiest strokes were of the nature of a coruscation- -a lightning flash, rather than effects of impetus or mass in motion. His sentences and paragraphs are apt to be diffuse; not because of unnecessary circumstances, but from a want of steady endeavor after emphasis by good collocation and condensation. Every now and then, one of his pithy sentences comes across us with inexpressible welcome. He is himself conscious when he is becoming too involved, and usually endeavors to relieve us by a terse summary at the close of the paragraph.

What I mean by not studying emphasis, may be exemplified by a quotation. The following shows his brief and epigrammatic style, in a fair average. The concluding sentence is what I chiefly call attention to. The passage is directed against the philanthropic theory of the protection of the poor by the rich:

"Mankind are often cautioned by divines and moralists against unreasonableness in their expectations. We attach greater value to the more limited warning against inconsistency in them. The state of society which this picture represents is a conceivable one. We shall not at present inquire if it is of all others the most eligible one, even as an Utopia. We only ask if its promoters are willing to accept this state of society together with its inevitable accompaniments."

What I should wish to see strengthened here is the emphasis on the concluding circumstance inevitable accompaniments, wherein lies the whole stress of the matter. A very little change would improve it: "We only ask if the advocates of this state of society are willing to accept its inevitable accompaniments."

John Stuart Mill: A Criticism with Personal Recollections (1882).

THE PROCESS OF COMPOSITION.

(An Illustration.)

CHARLES (TENNYSON) TURNER (1808-1879).

Oft in our fancy an uncertain thought

Hangs colorless, like dew on bents of grass,

Before the morning o'er the field doth pass:
But soon it grows and brightens; all unsought
A sudden glory flashes through the dream,

Our purpose deepens and our wit grows brave,
The thronging hints a richer utterance crave,
And tongues of fire approach the new-won theme.
A subtler process now begins-a claim

Is urged for order, a well-balanced scheme
Of words and numbers, a consistent aim;
The dew dissolves before the warming beam;
But that fair thought consolidates its flame,
And keeps its colors, hardening to a gem.

A REVERIE IN THE COLISEUM.

EMILIO CASTELAR (b. 1832 at Cadiz).

[Coliseum is a bad spelling of Colosseum" (SKEAT). The original name was the Flavian Amphitheatre, for it was begun by Vespasian, A.D. 72, and opened by his son Titus, A.D. 82,-both members of the Flavian Clan. Its vast height (one hundred and sixty-four feet) probably suggested the later name, which was derived from the gigantic bronze Colossus that once stood by the harbor-side of Rhodes as a tribute to the sun-god. The Coliseum formed an ellipse covering nearly five acres, the two diameters being six hundred and fifteen and five hundred and ten feet. It continued to be used for gladiatorial combats until the invasion of the Goths, A.D. 410.

Emilio Castelar is one of the most brilliant orators and men of letters of contemporary Spain. He occupied for some years the Chair of History and Philosophy in the University of Madrid. He has played a leading part in the troubled Spanish politics of our day. After the abdication of King Amadeo, Castelar, as leader of the Opposition in the Cortes, became Minister of Foreign Affairs, and subsequently he became first (and last) President of the short-lived Spanish Republic, 1873-74. Shortly before taking office he wrote the volume in which he records his impressions of Italy. The original is written in Castilian; the translation is by Mrs. Arthur Arnold.]

I was so much absorbed, that evening came upon me imperceptibly. The city bells announced the hour for vespers; the owls and other birds of the night began their first cries; I heard the hoarse and monotonous croak of the toad and frog in the distant lagunes, and the chant of a procession entering the neighboring church: spiritual voices mingled with those of nature, which made my meditations still more profound and silent, as if the soul had escaped from the body to attach itself after the manner of parasitic plants to the dust of imperishable ruins.

The full moon rose in the serene and tranquil horizon, and lent with her melancholy rays fresh poetic touches to the arches,

to the columns, to the vaults, to the scattered stones, to the desolation of the place; to the cross reared in its centre as an eternal vengeance taken by the gladiators, obliging the most

abject of the Roman people to bless and adore the once infamous gibbet of slaves, now transformed into the standard of modern civilization!

In imagination I beheld a festival in the Amphitheatre. This enormous pile was not now a skeleton. Here stood a statue, there a trophy; opposite, a monolith brought from Asia or Egypt. The people entered, after having washed and perfumed themselves in the public baths, mounting to the top to disperse over the places previously assigned to them. At one side was the gate of life, through which passed the combatants; at the other the gate of death, through which were dragged the corpses. The shouts of the multitude, the sharp sound of the trumpets, mingle with the howling and roaring of wild animals. While the senators and the emperor arrive, attendants of inferior municipal rank scatter parched peas among the people, which they carry in wicker baskets like those of our traders at fairs. The ground is brilliant with gold powder, with carmine and minium, to hide the blood, while the light is tempered by great awnings of Oriental purple, which tinges the spectators with its glowing reflection.

Behind them are

The senators occupy the lowest steps. placed the cavaliers. Above are those fathers of families who have given a certain number of children to the empire. Beyond these are the people. And on the top, crowning the whole, are the Roman matrons, clothed in light gauzes, and loaded with costly jewels, perfuming the air with aromatics carried in golden apples, and kindling all hearts by their soft words and tender glances.

While the spectators look to the emperor to give the signal for the commencement of the festival, conversation is carried on in a loud murmur :-Look at that glutton-he is so rich that he knows not half of his possessions! Lolia Paulina* is wearing emeralds worth sixty million sesterces *- -a small sum compared with the enormous robberies of her grandfather in the oppressed provinces. He who accompanies Cæsar stole at a supper of Claudius a golden cup. These reckless madcaps salute the orator Regulus,* for they fear the venom distilled from his viperous tongue. He is honored, while generals who have conquered barbarian hordes, and died in defence of Rome, have been ten years unburied. The doctor Eudemus* arrives, and * Pr. Eudēmus; Paulina; Reg'ulus; ses'terce (dissyllable), a silver coin worth, in the time of Augustus, a little more than four cents.