first organized to gather all the representatives of the world's industry into one great fair; and there were those who seriously expected that men who had once been prevailed upon to meet together in friendly and peaceful rivalry would never again be persuaded to meet in rivalry of a fiercer kind. It seems extraordinary now that any sane person can have indulged in such expectations, or can have imagined that the tremendous forces generated by the rival interests, ambitions, and passions of races could be subdued into harmonious coöperation by the good sense and good feeling born of a friendly meeting. The Hyde Park Exhibition and all exhibitions that followed it have not yet made the slightest perceptible difference in the warlike tendencies of nations.

JUSTIN MCCARTHY: History of Our Own Times.

42. Emotional and Intellectual Characteristics of Words. Sometimes we are satisfied with making our readers know what we mean; sometimes we wish to make them see with the eye of the mind a picture that we realize vividly; and again we may wish to have both meaning and visualization quickened into more real existence by a rush of feeling. When we have become able to do this last somewhat as we will, we may feel that we have in great part mastered what is called the technic of literary art. Robert Louis Stevenson is reported to have said that any one who is ambitious of acquiring literary skill must be willing to wait half a day for the right word. Probably every writer who has achieved like success would confirm the remark. But first we must train ourselves to know the right word when it comes, or our waiting, however long, will not avail. Only by years of both reading and writing can we

come to an easy command of a full and rich vocabulary, and even then we shall not write clearly if we have not learned what sort of distinctions between words should be made. Let us attempt a little classification of words in accordance with the character of their appeal to thought or feeling. In the first column below is given a list of five classes of words, and following each, a letter to be employed in designating words of that class. In the second column is given a list of subsidiary characteristics of words with corresponding numbers to be employed in indicating words which have these characteristics.

Let us consider a few words with reference to this classification. The word country, for instance, we would mark uI (country), because, as soon as we know the meaning of the word, we know it as something to which we have some sort of personal relation; we are told of our country first, and we should add the symbol I, because, though the image it suggests is weak and indefinite, it is real, and it comes to everyone, whether civilized or uncivilized, cultured or ignorant. In like manner we should mark father, mother, birthplace, and many others. For words that would suggest images that have to do with the life of all

primitive peoples, but less definitely, if at all, with those civilized, we should add the secondary marking 2; and for words that would suggest images to people of some particular nation, locality, or occupation only, we should add the symbol 3. Words such as ratiocination would have 5 as the secondary symbol, and such words would generally belong to classes y and 5. Not all abstract words would have the secondary marking 5. Slavery, for instance, would clearly suggest some sort of an image having to do with the life of practically all primitive peoples, and so would have the secondary marking 2. Now, in general, words to which we should apply the symbols u are clearly more fitted to quicken the emotions of the reader than those of any other class, and those to which we should apply the symbols 5 are rather intellectual than emotional.

When we write we must continually make a study of the appeal that the words we employ will make to thought and feeling. A composition that is to move the sensibilities must not be written in words that appeal largely to the intellect. We will spend a little time in marking the following paragraphs with the symbols given in the classification above. Not all words, of course, will be included in the classification; but nouns, adjectives, and some of the verbs should be marked. Come to class prepared to justify the marking of each word, and bring a statement of the number of words of each class that you find in each selection. Of the twenty-five markings possible, which six in your

judgment cover the more emotional words, and which six the more intellectual? Which of the selections given seem to you to deal more with thought, and which more with feeling, and do your markings agree with this decision?

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A comparison between Europe and America, as respects the current production of dramatic literature intended for actual performance, offers results which reflect upon us a striking national discredit. In Germany, the two foremost writers among those now living are writers for the stage. The two greatest of living Scandinavians are likewise dramatists. In France there is at least the poet of "Cyrano " to reckon with, besides the men who have passed away during the closing quarter of the century. Italy offers one contemporary name of much significance, and the like statement is true of Spain and of Belgium. Even England has her present-day group of highly re spectable playwrights, men of serious purpose and substantial performance, if not exactly writers of genius. The works of all the men here mentioned belong distinctly to the literatures of their respective countries, and in some cases they constitute the best literature that is now being produced in those countries. Has America anything of the sort to show? Well, we have Mr. Bronson Howard, and Mr. Augustus Thomas, and Mr. Clyde Fitch. But who would think of reckoning the productions of these men among the roteworthy things of our modern literature? The mere suggestion is an absurdity. We have poets and novelists and essayists fairly comparable with those of the European countries; but of dramatic writers, in the European sense, we have not one, nor have we ever produced one.

Editorial in the Dial, Jan. 1, 1900.

Dacier had observed the blush, and the check to her flowing tongue did not escape him as they walked back to

the inn down the narrow street of black rooms, where the women gossiped at the fountain and the cobbler threaded on his door-step. His novel excitement supplied the deficiency, sweeping past minor reflections. He was, however, surprised to hear her tell Lady Esquart, as soon as they were together at the breakfast-table, that he had the intention of starting for England; and further surprised, and slightly stung too, when, on the poor lady's moaning over her recollections of the midnight bell, and vowing she could not attempt to sleep another night in the place, Diana declared her resolve to stay there one day longer with her maid, and explore the neighborhood for the wild flowers in which it abounded. Lord and Lady Esquart agreed to anything agreeable to her, after excusing themselves for the necessitated flight, piteously relating the story of their sufferings. My lord could have slept, but he had remained awake to comfort my lady.

GEORGE MEREDITH: Diana of the Crossways.

Then Jason got out of the carriage, and without further word or sign, swung down the street. The doctor looked after him until his stormy figure was lost in the distance. What thoughts bearded the physician's respectability: Was the city, so atrociously modern, as aggravating to his untamed manhood as it was to Jason's? Whatever games they had played they had generally won. And he knew that of all men Jason was the one to pursue a foe to the uttermost parts of the earth. Jason was Mosaic in his belief of fair play, and in his instinct of retaliation. He would strip himself to pay a debt of honor or of kindness. Likewise to him vengeance was a law as sacred as hospitality, and he could entrust it neither to God nor man to execute it for him. The doctor knew that whatever his old mate purposed would be deftly done, and with dispatch. Far off, the tall sombrero waved above the petty crowd and was finally swallowed. Shaking off his reverie, the doctor called his man and hurried on his rounds.

HERBERT D. WARD.