quickness and brilliancy, do you not count twenty men who have achieved positions more enviable through solidity and judgment? Now, let me call in your boy; you shall hear him repeat a fable which he has learned by heart in less time than he could learn two lines of the 'Propria quæ maribus,' and you will at once, when you hear him, divine the reason why." The boy is called in. He begins, at first hesitatingly and shyly, to repeat the fable of "The Hare and the Tortoise." But scarcely has he got through three lines before the friend cries out, Capital! well remembered;" the boy's face begins to brighten-his voice gets more animated-the friend shows the liveliest interest in the story, and especially in the success of the tortoise, and at the close exclaims, "Boy, if I had your memory, I would master all that is worth the remembering. Think, as long as you live, of the hare and the tortoise, and-let the hare jeer, the tortoise will win the

race.

66

"I don't flatter him, you see," whispered the friend to the father. "I don't tell him that he is the hare-I tell him frankly that he is the tortoise, and can't afford to lose an inch of the way. (Aloud)-And now, my boy, if we are to beat the hare, we must get through the 'Propria quæ maribus,' but we must get through it, like the tortoise, inch by inch your father will not set you more than one line at a time, and will give you your own time to learn it; and as I know that a more honest honourable boy does not exist, so we trust to you to say when you find that one line is too little-that the pain of learning more is not equal to the pleasure of getting on, and catching up the hare; and by the end of a month we shall have you asking to learn a dozen lines. Meanwhile, fasten your whole mind upon one line."

The boy smiled; the father saw the smile, and embraced him. The hint was taken-and though, cer

tainly, the boy never ripened into a wit or a poet, he took honours at the University, and now promises to become one of the safest and soundest consulting lawyers at the Chancery bar. May his father, who still lives, see his son on the road to the Woolsack!

It is true that in great public schools this study of individuals is scarcely possible; the schoolmaster cannot be expected to suit and humour his system so as to fit into each boy's peculiar idiosyncrasy. He has to deal with large masses by uniform discipline and routine. But in large masses the broad elements of human nature are still more conspicuously active than they are in individuals. Sentiments weak or inert in the one breast, are strong and prevalent in numbers. And if it be true that susceptibility to praise is common to human beings, susceptibility to praise will be more vividly the attribute of a multitude than it will be of any individual chosen at random. Therefore, the more the agency of praise is admitted into large schools, the higher the level of aspiration and performance will become. It is noticeable that in any miscellaneous assemblage the moral features in common will have much more parity than the mental. Superior abilities necessarily rare in a school as in the world, and (so far as display of intellect is concerned) superior abilities alone can attract the preceptor's praise. For he does not, in fact, praise eminent talent who accords an equal praise to mediocrity. But there is some lamentable fault in the whole tuition of the school if there be not a general sentiment among the pupils, favourable to integrity, honour, and truth, shared alike by the dull boys and the clever-that is (to repeat my proposition), parity in the moral, though disparity in the intellectual, attributes. And here, the more the tone of the master sustains that prevailing sentiment of honour by a generous trust in the character of

are

his whole school, the more he will be likely to attain the cardinal end of all wholesale education-viz., the training and development of honourable and truthful men. For the best kind of praise either to man or boy is that which is implied in a liberal confidence. A headmaster under whom one of our public schools rose into rapid celebrity, acted on this theory with the happiest results. There was a compliment, a eulogium, encouraging to his whole school in his answer to some boy, who, telling him a story the veracity of which might have been deemed doubtful by a suspicious pedagogue, said, "I hope you believe me, sir." Believe you! of course," replied the teacher; the greatest of all improbabilities would be that any gentleman in this school would tell me a lie."

66

Now suppose the story had been a fib, and the teller of it had been punished, I do not believe that the punishment would have had the same good effect on the whole school as the answer which, in placing implicit trust in its honour, must have thrilled through the heart of every one thus brought to remember that, though a boy, he was a gentleman. Nor do I believe that the punishment would have been as permanently operative on the future right conduct of the culprit himself as the pang of remorse and shame which such an answer must have inflicted, unless he were a much meaner creature than it is in the nature of great public schools to produce. If a skilful orator desire to propitiate a hostile assembly, though it be the most unmanageable of all assemblies an angry mob-he will certainly not begin by scolding and railing against it. Neither, always supposing him to be the master of an art, to excellence in which manly earnestness and courage are always essential, will he attempt to flatter his prejudiced auditors for any wisdom or virtue which they are not exhibiting; if he do so, he

will be saluted at once by a cry of "Gammon !" But, after all, they are men, and as such must have much in them which you can praise sincerely-with which you can establish a sympathy, a bond of agreement, if you can but persuade them to hear you. A mob is seldom carried away against you, except by an error of reason misleading into wrong directions an impulsive goodness of heart. It hates you because it has been duped into supposing that you hate the rights of humanity or the cause of freedom. You may frankly acknowledge the goodness of the impulse before you proceed to prove the direction to be wrong. I have seen a mob not indeed converted, but rendered silent, attentive, respectful, by the first few words of a candidate whom they were prepared to hoot and willing to stone, when those first few words have touched their hearts by an evident appreciation of their own commendable love for humanity and freedom.

Even in outlaws and thieves themselves, they who have undertaken the benevolent task of reforming them, bear general testimony in favour of the good effects of praise, and the comparative nullity of scolding. It is told of one of these sagacious philanthropists that, in addressing an assembly of professional appropriators of goods not their own, he said, “It is true you are thieves, but you are also men; and the sentiment of honour is so necessary to all societies of men, that-but you know the proverb, Honour among thieves.' It is that sentiment which I appeal to and rely upon when I ask you to abandon your present mode of life, and, by a tenth part of the same cleverness in an honest calling which you manifest in your present calling, acquire from all men the confidence I am about to place in you. Yes, confidence! and confidence what in?—the very thing you have hitherto slighted, honesty. Here is a five-pound

note. I want to have change for it. Let any one among you take the note and bring me the change. I rely on his honour." The rogues hesitated, and looked at each other in blank dismay, each, no doubt, in terrible apprehension that the honour of the corps would be disgraced by the perfidy of whatever individual should volunteer an example of honesty. At last one raggamuffin stepped forward, received the note, grinned, and vanished. The orator calmly resumed his discourse upon the pleasures and profits to be found in the exercise of that virtue which distinguishes between meum and tuum. But he found his audience inattentive, distracted, anxious, restless. Would the raggamuffin return with the change? What eternal disgrace to them all if he did not, and how could they hope that he would? The moments seemed to them hours. At length-at length their human breasts found relief in a lusty cheer. The raggamuffin had reappeared with the change. There was honour even among thieves.

Now it seems to me that, if praise be thus efficacious with rogues, it may be as well to spend a little more of it among honest men. But it is not uncommon to see philanthropists, especially of the softer sex, who so lavish the cream of human kindness on the bad that they have only the skimmed milk left for the good, and even that is generally kept till it is

sour.

All men who do something tolerably well, do it better if their energies are cheered on. And if they are doing something for you, your praise brings you back a very good interest. Some men, indeed, can do nothing good without being braced by encouragement-it is true, that is a vanity in them. But we must be very vain ourselves if the vanity of another seriously irritates our own. The humours of men are, after all, subjects more of comedy than of solemn rebuke. And vanity is a very useful humour on the

stage of life. It was the habit of Sir Godfrey Kneller to say to his sitter, "Praise me, sir, praise me: how can I throw any animation into your face if you don't choose to animate me?" And laughable as the painter's desire of approbation might be, so bluntly expressed, I have no doubt that the sitter who took the hint got a much better portrait for his pains. Every actor knows how a cold house chills him, and how necessary to the full sustainment of a great part is the thunder of applause. have heard that when the late Mr Kean was performing in some city of the United States, he came to the manager at the end of the third act and said, "I can't go on the stage again, sir, if the Pit keeps its hands in its pockets. Such an audience would extinguish Ætna."

And the story saith that the manager made his appearance on the stage, and assured them that Mr Kean, having been accustomed to audiences more demonstrative than was habitual to the severer intelligence of an assembly of American citizens, mistook their silent attention for disapprobation; and, in short, that if they did not applaud as Mr Kean had been accustomed to be applauded, they could not have the gratification of seeing Mr Kean act as he had been accustomed to act. Of course the audience

though, no doubt, with an elated sneer at the Britisher's vanitywere too much interested in giving him fair-play to withhold any longer the loud demonstration of their pleasure when he did something to please them. As the fervour of the audience rose, so rose the genius of the actor, and the contagion of their own applause redoubled their enjoyment of the excellence it contributed to create.

Fortunately, all of us do not require loud clapping of hands or waving of white pocket-handkerchiefs. Science and letters have a self-love which would be frightened and shocked at the plaudits which invigorate the spirits of the actor

and the orator. Still even science, with all its majesty, has a pain in being scolded, and a pleasure in being praised. The grand Descartes, modestest of men, who wished to live in a town where he should not be known by sight, felt so keen an anguish at the snubbings and censures his writings procured him, that he meditated the abandonment of philosophy and the abjuration of his own injured identity by a change of name. Happily for mankind, some encouraging praises came to his ears, and restored the equilibrium of his self-esteem,-vanity (if all pleasure in approbation is to be so called) reconciling him once more to the pursuit of wisdom.

But it is in the commerce of private life-in our dealings with children, servants, friends, and neighbours-that I would venture the most to recommend some softening and mitigation of that old English candour which consists in eternally telling us our faults, but having too great a horror of compliments ever to say something pleasant as to our merits.

We cannot be always giving instruction, however preceptorial and admonitory our dispositions may be; but if we have given a harmless pleasure, it is not altogether a day lost to the wisest of us. To send a child to his bed happier, with a thanksgiving heartier, he knows not why, to the Author of all blessings, and a livelier fondness in his prayer for his parents;-to cheer the moody veteran, who deems the young have forgotten him, with a few words that show remembrance of what he has done in his generation;-to comfort the dispirited struggler for fame or independence, in the moment of fall or failure, with a just commendation of the strength and courage which, if shown in the defeat of to-day, are fair auguries of success on the morrow; all this may not be so good as a sermon. But it is not every one who has the right or capacity to preach sermons; and any one is authorised and able to do all this.

As Seneca so beautifully expresses it

"Utcunque homo est ibi beneficio locus."

And it seems to me that the habit of seeking rather to praise than to blame operates favourably not only on the happiness and the temper, but on the whole moral character of those who form it. It is a great corrective of envy, that most common infirmity of active intellects engaged in competitive strife, and the immediate impulse of which is always towards the disparagement of another; it is also a strong counterbalancing power to that inert cynicism which is apt to creep over men not engaged in competition, and which leads them to debase the level of their own humanity in the contempt with which it regards what may be good or great in those who are so engaged. In short, a predisposition to see what is best in others necessarily calls out our own more amiable qualities; and, on the other hand, a predisposition to discover what is bad keeps in activity our meaner and more malignant.

Perhaps, however, to a very ascetic moralist I shall seem to have insisted far too strongly on whatever efficacy may be found in praising, and not painted with impartial colours the virtuous properties of reproof. Certes, a great deal may be said upon that latter and austerer theme. Instances may be quoted of little children who have been flogged out of naughtiness, and great geniuses who have been reviled into surpassing achievements. Whether the good so done has not been generally attended with some evil less traceable, is, I think, a matter of doubt. But that is a question I will not here discuss. Granting all that can be said in vindication of giving pain to another, I still say that it is better and wiser, on the whole, to cultivate the habit of giving pleasure. And I may be excused if I have somewhat exaggerated the value of praise and undervalued the precious bene

fits of censure, because it needs no homily to dispose us to be sharp enough towards the faults of our neighbours.

On this truth Phædrus has an apologue which may be thus paraphrased

"From our necks, when life's journey

begins,

Two sacks Jove, the Father, suspends; The one holds our own proper sins,

The other the sins of our friends: The first, Man immediately throws Out of sight, out of mind, at his back; The last is so under his nose,

He sees every grain in the sack."

THE old grey manor-house had nestled down to dreamless slumber in the hollow of the hills: the rooks in the tall elms behind it had at last settled into silence. But the young mistress of the manor still flitted to and fro on the terrace, slowly and with soft footfall, never hastening, never pausing; not conscious that the light had faded and the dew was falling. There was light enough for the dreaming of such dreams as hers, enough of the warmth of hope and young life in her heart to resist a far graver chill than any that was to be feared from the tepid air of the summer night.

Presently a lattice creaked on its hinges, and a voice from the manycasemented west window asked

"Clare, are you out there still Pray, come in, my dear-you will take cold; and there is a letter for you."

"A letter from Allan ?" "No; from Mr Stanner." Having heard this, Miss Watermeyr seemed in no haste to obey the summons. For some minutes she leant over the terrace balustrade, breathing the perfume which rose like incense from the great bed of valley lilies under the wall. In the porch she paused again—the honeysuckles seemed so peculiarly, so bewilderingly sweet to-night, as if reminding her of past joy, and prophesying to her of joy to be.

So

it appeared at first; but she paused too long, till her heart seemed sud

denly to sink within her. Perhaps some unrecognised instinct warned her that, passing into the house tonight, she passed over one of those boundary-lines of life which we cross unconsciously, and only perceive when we look back upon them from a distance.

"You are shutting out the twilight early, are you not, auntie ?" she asked, entering the drawingroom, and finding that the lamp had been brought in, and that a servant was letting fall the curtains.

Auntie"-a placid-looking old lady, dressed with somewhat of the quaint gravity of old ladies of an olden time, which made her look peculiarly in keeping with the large, low, oak - wainscoted and oak-raftered room-smiled.

"Your thoughts must have been pleasant to-night, Clare it is very late; for the last hour I have not been able to see to do even my coarse knitting."

"My thoughts have been pleasant, auntie," Clare said, softly, seating herself, as the servant left the room, on a low stool at the old lady's feet. "I have been thinking of Allan-of how sweet it will be to have him home again at last. I have been very happy with only you, auntie, but still I do feel lonely sometimes, and it is so long that he has been away."

"Very long, my dear; I hope that you may never be separated