above. The soil and stones to be sent to the surface are thrown from staging to staging by the digger, a most laborious process. There may be a good reason for the non-employment of a windlass, or the wonted method may be simply due to the conservatism of the workers. The diggers do not co-operate, but each individual sinks his own shaft, excavates the tunnels, and raises the material. A fortnight is the time usually occupied in reaching the lowest bed, which is the first to be removed to permit of the soil taken from the upper beds being sent down the pit instead of up. It is customary to sink a shaft at the extremity of a tunnel formed from another pit, to secure the draught without which the digger's candle will not burn. The tunnels are just high enough to admit of a man using pick and shovel in them in a sitting position; and to add to the unpleasantness of working in such a confined space, there is water continually dropping from the roof of the cavity and trickling down the sides. Springs, however, are never encountered, and accidents are extremely rare, the chalk being far too solid to fall. At intervals, pillars are left to support the superincumbent soil, and the practice of casting into one tunnel the refuse drawn from another still further tends to prevent the subsidence of the ground. Into the subterranean passages which he forms, the digger crawls on hands and knees, looking, as he enters, like nothing so much as a gigantic rabbit popping into its burrow.

And what is the pecuniary reward for toil of this severe and unpleasant description? If a man meets with good luck-in other words, if the flints in the bed on which he is at work are not separated by overmuch chalk, he can get out a one-horse-load of stone in two days, and so may earn a pound a week. Barely a living wage, to use the pet phrase of the day, especially as nothing salable is brought to the surface during the ten or twelve days spent in sinking the shaft. And then, again, it sometimes happens that when

a shaft has been sunk in the hope of continuing the working of what has proved to be a particularly good spot, the layer "gives out" after a few flints have been extracted from the new tunnel, and the labor of days has gone for nothing. But striking the richest portions of a bed will not put money into the pocket of the finder unless there is a demand for their produce, and that is by no means constant. During the year 1893, for instance, hardly a load was wanted.

The raw material which the diggers provide is worked upon by the knappers at their own homes, in little sheds or outhouses. Having seated himself upon a low stool, the knapper affixes his "knee-piece," a stout pad formed of layers of leather, and upon this be places a mass of flint which he dexterously breaks, or quarters as he would say, with a heavy flat-faced hammer, taking care to strike in a slanting direction, that the full force of the blow may not be felt by the supporting limb. When the mass has been thus divided into convenient-sized piecescubes of about six inches-he exchanges the hammer he has been using for one that is much lighter and whose head is pointed at either end. With this he strikes off flakes extending from end to end of the quarter, if he is going on to the manufacture of gun-flints; or gives the stone a pyramidal form, if he desires to prepare it in the best way for the builder, completing the squaring of its face with his knapping hammer, a tool which may be likened to a few inches of a narrow iron hoop centred on a proportionately light haft. It is with his knapping hammer, also, that he fashions gun-flints, arrowheads, spear-heads, and similar small articles from the flakes. The flakes are held one by one upon a chiselshaped iron driven into a huge block, and are there chipped into the desired form. During this operation the knapper guards his right hand from the flying chips by a leather shield through which the haft of the hammer is inserted, but his eyes are unprotected. and often suffer in consequence. It

that are greatly to be feared, but those that are most minute. These form a dust with which the air becomes heavily charged, and entering the respiratory organs, work sad mischief there, phthisis or inflammation of the lungs usually ending a knapper's days before he has reached the prime of life. By working from six o'clock in the morning to ten at night, an average knapper can finish from three thousand to four thousand flints, if the flakes are prepared beforehand, and he is paid at the rate of fourteen pence a thousand. In the same long day an expert can produce from seven thousand to ten thousand flakes. Flintknapping is one of the few industries in which it has not been possible to apply machinery. Indeed, the probability is that the manufacture is carried on now, in all essential particulars, as it was when the human race was in its infancy, and that the only important change has been the substitution of iron hammers for those of flint. It has even been surmised that some of the technical terms are survivals of the speech of the earliest workers.

The gun-flints, which constitute the chief production of the industry, are exported mainly to Africa, although there is also a demand for them in India, China, and parts of South America. Their use is not entirely unknown even within the bounds of Great Britain. In February of last year, according to a report which appeared at the time in the local newspapers, a laboring man, near Ely, killed fifteen wild ducks at one discharge of an old-fashioned gun with flint-andsteel lock. But there does not remain among us a sufficient number of sportsmen similarly armed to affect the trade at Brandon.

In the busiest times, three-quarters of a million are sent away in a week, a quantity which one might, at first, be inclined to regard as sufficient to fully supply all demands for a considerable period; but a flint fails to emit sparks when it has been struck a few times. Some need to be replaced when

aid, while, with others, the gun may be discharged a hundred times. Those that are of the deepest color are the most highly esteemed, and as the ultimate purchasers regard with disfavor a flint of which even but a small portion is white, the desired hue is imparted by the obliging manufacturer.

As would naturally be expected, flint implements of ancient make are found in the neighborhood of Brandon, but the inexperienced collector is much more likely to purchase a modern imitation than to secure the genuine article, and, indeed, the production of counterfeits for sale by dealers is a recognized branch of the industry.

Unless there speedily arises a demand for dressed flint other than that which now exists, the art of the flint-knapper will be forgotten. A local optimist looks forward to the time when flint will be found in the pivoting work in the machines of our factories; but its value for that, or for some other purpose, must soon be recognized if skilled workers are to be ready to hand to meet the new demand. There are now only some seven diggers at Brandon, and about twenty knappers, and these latter are all that there are in England, with the exception of two who follow the trade at the Suffolk village of Icklingham. As the dusky inhabitants of the Dark Continent, and the barbaric tribes elsewhere, become civilized, they will lay aside their flint-muskets in favor of the latest needle-gun, and thus, according to the present prospect, the "oldest trade in the world” is within measurable distance of extinction.

From The Spectator.

AMERICAN DISLIKE FOR ENGLAND. To a very large body, nay, to the vast majority of Englishmen, one of the most painful aspects of the present controversy has been the evidence afforded that Americans seem utterly unaware of the strong feeling of friendship felt here for their country,—a feeling rising

The correspondent who sends us this extract dwells upon the astonishment, evidently quite genuine, expressed at hearing that the English have very friendly feelings towards America. "Your remarks," he says, "appear to them 'most unusual,' 'surprising,' 'unexpected.' Why are they so completely in the dark as to the real sentiments of the English people?"

To show that we are not exaggerating the extraordinary difference in feeling between Englishmen for America and Americans for England, we should like to draw attention to the things which are taught about the mother-country in the elementary schools of America. In the January number of Blackwood, a very interesting account is given of the spirit of ill-feeling towards England which is inculcated in the minds of the children of the States. In the school histories the children are made to regard England as a hateful tyrant who "treated the settlers as an inferior class of people," and who, without respect of law or justice, robbed and oppressed them. The writer in Blackwood quotes, for example, the accounts of the socalled Boston Massacre, where a fight between a guard and a crowd of assailants is represented as the act of tyrants who delight in shooting down people in the streets. We do not, of course, mean for a moment to defend the policy of King George's government towards America; but if Americans were as anxious as we are to forgive and forget that civil war, they would surely not try to keep open these old sores. We try honestly in our histories not to misrepresent the desires and aspirations of the colonists, nor to distort their acts; surely Americans might do the same in regard to ours. As an example of the tone of feeling towards America which Englishmen desire to see their children

school-book issued by Messrs, Macmillan, entitled "Industrial and Social Life and the Empire." The work, intended both as a reading-book for elementary schools, and as a class-book for continuation schools, deals with the life and duties of the citizen. In the part which is concerned with the duties of the citizen in regard to countries outside the Empire, a special section is devoted to the duties of the British citizen towards the United States. The chapter begins with these words: "We have dealt with our duties towards the empire. We must now say something about those towards foreign countries. before doing so, however, we must speak of a nation which no right-feeling Englishman will ever call foreign. That nation is the United States of America. It is peopled by men of our blood and faith, enjoys in a great measure the same laws as we do, reads the same Bible, and acknowledges like us the rule of King Shakespeare." The work goes on to describe how we lost America: "At one time the United States consisted of English colonies, but about one hundred and twenty years ago the government foolishly tried to interfere with the colonists, and would not allow them to have control over their own affairs. Accordingly the men of the New England on the other side of the Atlantic determined to set up for themselves, and after a fierce struggle became independent. This unhappy war for a long time left bitter memories, but now (God be thanked) the English on both sides of the Atlantic have become friends again. Though we must ever deeply regret that the American English should have parted from us in anger, we cannot but feel that their country has become so vast that it probably would have been necessary for them in any case to establish a separate government. All, then, that we need be sorry for is that the two halves of the English-speaking race did not part in kindness, and did not agree that in some form or other they would acknowledge before the whole world that their people were

brethren and not strangers. But though the war of a hundred years ago made this acknowledgment of an essential brotherhood impossible for many years, there is no reason why in the time to come it should not be accomplished." The passage from which we are quoting ends with the declaration that it would be quite possible for the people of the British Empire and of the United States to enter upon an agreement, placing their relations on a footing quite different from that which belongs to foreign States, and acknowledging thereby their common origin. "Some day this will doubtless be accomplished. Till it is every English-speaking man, woman, and child should look forward to the event and do his best to bring it about. Let us remember, then, that the United States is not and never can be in reality a foreign country, nor an American a foreigner. They and we are one flesh." That prominent publishers like Messrs. Macmillan, anxious to have their books widely used in schools, should have issued a work containing such expressions in regard to America; that none of the reviews of the book-we have authority for this statement-should have objected to the passage regarding America; and that the London School Board, after the usual consideration, should have placed the book on their list, is surely proof that there is no large section of the English public which desires to be fed with hard words about America.

One cannot dwell on the facts represented here without being drawn to ask the question: "What can we do to make the Americans feel more kindly towards us?" We believe that the answer is: "By getting them to realize what we feel towards them." It is the prerogative of kindly feeling, if persisted in, to kill unkindly. The Americans largely express ill-feeling towards us because they have been taught that we hate and despise them. When they realize that this is not so, as they will in time, there will be a strong reaction in favor of substituting friendliness for ratred. All we can do is to persevere in giving expression to our feeling of

affection. We must not allow our goodwill to be conquered by their expres sions of dislike, but must instead dwell upon such signs of good-will as have appeared side by side with those of a different character. America is a big place, and brother Jonathan is a very busy man, but in the end he will become alive to the true feeling over here. When he does, depend upon it we shall see an enormous change in American public opinion. Meantime we must remember that millions of Americans have been taught to believe that the English nation is still entirely composed of men like Lord North and George III., and that those who know the contrary, too often regard their knowledge as a secret which it would be unpatriotic to betray. Still, as we have said, the truth will some day leak out, and then the two nations will be equally anxious to substitute affection for dislike.

From The Speaker.

SHAKESPEARE AS A FRENCH HERO. Justice is done to Shakespeare at last, and by the hand of M. Léon Daudet. The poet's countrymen have speculated much as to his personality; they have constructed biographies out of meagre details; they have even traced his genealogy to the kings of Wales. None of us, however, has had the courage to put him into novel or play, except as an awe-inspiring shadow, dropping a word or two, and passing on. The graven threat on his tomb to malefactors who may disturb his bones seems to have deterred our most audacious fantasy from treating him as a creature of romance, and seeking to explain him dramatically. This dread does not haunt the author of "Les Morticoles." In "Le Voyage de Shakespeare" M. Daudet has made the poet a sort of Wilhelm Meister, described his travels in Holland, Germany, and Denmark, carried him from Rotterdam to Elsinore, with plenty of adventure by the way, put into his mouth profound reflections on life and art, and endowed