'when there is no more youth in the looks, the mind of the cultured woman remains young and open to fresh ideas.'

29. Rapid's paper is so good that it is a great pity that it cannot be given in full; but perhaps her most original contribution to the discussion is the remark, that self-culture gives perception, the power of realising individual capacity, and a true estimation of character.'

30. Bluebottle puts the difficulties of a girl living at home in the way of self-culture very truly. It often vexes other people to see girls engaged in their own studies when they might be occupied in good works for the benefit of others.' She decides that self-culture is not an imperative duty.

31. A. E. L. thinks the duty of mental self-culture after early girlhood imperative only on those who have to earn their own living, and puts strongly forward the home duties which should take its place.

32. Flittermouse seems doubtful of her own views, but on the whole inclines to think that intellectual self-culture, if made an object, is likely to lead to selfishness. She asks the unanswered question: 'When we can produce the outward form of art, but feel that the soul is wanting then-what next?'

33. Edina thinks that self-culture pursued too exclusively would produce a want of sympathy with humanity and a narrowness of object; which would go far to destroy the good of the knowledge gained.

34. Winifred does not confine herself sufficiently to the intellectual part of self-culture. The need of cultivating the character could never have been offered as a subject of dispute.

35. Country Vicar, while not denying the advantages of self-culture, kindly gives a very fully argued warning against the dangers attending it, such as self-absorption, and neglect of duty to others.

36. R. Pen hopes that spiritual self-culture may not be neglected for intellectual.

37. Lamda gives a note of warning. She says that self-culture may be incompatible with giving sufficient time to our religious or domestic duties, and that when two paths lie before us we should take the one we like least. And also that we shall have time enough in eternity to cultivate all our powers, so that though she regards it as a duty, it is not as an imperative one.

38. Spermologos sums up by saying, 'As long as it is not selfish improvement it is a duty. When Providence brings other claims. besides or above those of culture of the intellect, the fulfilment of them is self-improvement in the highest sense.'

DEAR CHELSEA CHINA,

May I suggest three reasons why self-culture is an imperative duty?

1st. The mind of every one must be employed in some way. It cannot be idle. If it is not interested in useful things, it will be sure to take pleasure in things harmful. Naturally we all have a tendency downwards, and unless we turn our mind to other things, it will be sure to follow the general law and occupy itself with little gossips, unkind tales, etc., and so gradually deteriorate till it loses the power of turning to anything better.

2nd. Let us look round at our very elderly friends of seventy or even eighty years of age. We find some are almost childish. They cannot remember. They do not understand general conversation. In fact, we feel their mind is becoming weak, and it is impossible to talk to them except in some simple way. It is not the case with all. I know a dear old lady of eighty-five, who is blind, a little deaf, and very infirm; but her mind is quite fresh. She can enter into the thoughts and ideas of any one who talks to her, however young they may be, and she is quite clear in business matters. What makes the difference between her and so many old people? It is the culture of the mind. She is no authoress, but she has always been fond of study, and made the most of her time.

3rd. Now we come to a still higher reason for self-culture. It is a great fact that we see only what we have the faculty of seeing. Is it of any use for a lover of music or painting to talk about the harmony of sounds or the tints of Nature to one who knows nothing about them? They have no ears or eyes for these things.

Is not our highest duty to learn to know God? And what are some of the ways in which we are to learn to know Him? Does not He tell us Himself that it is by the visible things we are to learn the invisible? The Psalms repeat this great truth. It was in this way that Job learnt to know God.

And there is another law of God, that, Whosoever hath, to him shall be given.' We begin to study some branch of natural science, or history, or some language. We find that many paths seem to open before us. We get glimpses of the wisdom, etc., of God. Our eyes seem to open, our capacity grows, and according to our capacity we shall receive, both in this world and in the next.

I should like also to suggest that in choosing a branch of study, it should be something that we really care for. It is not well to take up anything distasteful. Let each one follow the natural bent of the mind, for only so can we ensure real success in our work. Believe me, yours faithfully,

GILLIAN.

The cultivation of the mind, which always includes a degree of self-culture, is an imperative duty and life-long obligation. We are responsible for the improvement of the talents given to us, and cultivation is the condition of improvement. Put the converse, that there are persons whose privilege it is, or whose doom it ought to be,

to remain barbarians in the midst of civilisation, and the absurdity of contradicting the affirmation becomes evident.

Culture is enforced on children, and in after life many professions and trades properly followed involve a constant process of culture. But voluntary study aiming at self-improvement is the special duty of those whose work is indefinite or narrowing in character, of all indeed on whom it is not enforced. Some duties, as honesty, are always possible; others, as cleanliness and self-culture, are not always possible. Circumstances may be so adverse or so disastrous (for instance when a bare subsistence only can be earned by constant routine labour) as to make self-culture impossible. Then it becomes the business of all concerned to improve those circumstances.

DEAR CHELSEA CHINA,

PELLEGRINA.

As you have kindly invited any of us girls to give our opinion on the duty of self-culture, I venture to send some of my thoughts on the subject. In answer to the question put, Is self-culture an imperative duty?' I should say most certainly, yes. But first, what is true self-culture? I do not think it is only reading and study, though these may form the chief part. I think a girl who has real self-culture at heart should know something of the rudiments of cooking, and be able to direct a household if necessary, as well as to use her needle-not in fancy work. She should have eyes to see the beauty all round her, from a noble building to a blade of grass or a common house-fly; and for this of course she must gain some slight knowledge of architecture, natural history, geology, etc.; she should live with others, not engrossed in her own pursuits, but taking part in the interests and events of her circle, and there studying human nature. She should not neglect her body, taking plenty of exercise, and always dressing prettily; and lastly, there is a self within oneself that wants training and cultivating, a task more difficult than all the rest.

This seems a great deal perhaps, but life is long to such girls as I am speaking of, full of endless empty days, waiting to be filled.

In short, every power of body and mind was given us to cultivate and improve, that we may grow daily nearer to the angel's nature, and further from the brute's; that we may have a refining and elevating influence in the society in which we move; and that we may make the most of the opportunities given us. Thus it seems to me that self-culture is a duty we owe to ourselves, to the world, and to God.

Believe me, dear Chelsea China,

Yours sincerely,

FANCIFUL.

DEAR ARACHNE,

I hope you will not decide that self-culture is an imperative duty, for I can't cultivate myself anyhow. How can I? I am a parson's daughter, we live seven miles from a station, we don't subscribe to a library of any sort, and we have no books in the house to speak of. I don't mean that we have none. My father has four shelves quite full of commentaries and sermons, besides all the library of Anglo-Catholic Theology, and the classical books he used at college; and mamma owns all Miss Sewell's books, and some of the old volumes of the Monthly Packet,' which she had when she was a girl. I don't think either of them have bought a new book since they married. When we were children they used to give us storybooks for our birthday presents, but now that we have allowances we like the money best; it is so very hard to dress nicely on fifteen pounds a year, though we do make all our own clothes. Ethel and I really have a great deal to do. We have to do all the visiting of the cottages, because mamma can't walk, and we have no carriage, and we have to take all the Sunday School nearly, and hunt up all the children who don't come to school regularly, for fear the school should miss the grant, and do all the decorations; and then, as I said before, there are all our own clothes, which take all the intellect we have to arrange, even with Butterick's patterns now and then. We are both so tired out when we go to bed, we very seldom want to talk, though we go to bed at ten. We did not have much of an education, because father was too poor to afford more than an inferior governess, and once when I thought it would be nice to improve myself and join a French correspondence class, I found I knew nothing of the beginning of it. I'm afraid I know nothing of the beginnings of anything, and I'm not clever enough to learn it all up inyself. Sometimes mamma says she can't think what we shall do if we don't marry, and I can't think either. Tom had an education, and they said that was the investment of his money. I can't help wishing they had invested ours the same way. But still we do try to do our duty every minute of the day, and ought we to give up things that must be done for things we don't feel we could do if we tried? Isn't it more important that the parish should be worked than that we should be able to do French and arithmetic like girls in High Schools?

Yours truly,

AN INQUIRER.

Spider Subjects.

Spinning Jenny and Weaver are very good, Snow Queen does not make it clear whether her description applies to all monasteries or one in particular, and we prefer Winifred's resuscitation of the Abbey of Fountains. Next time, will the Spiders give the derivations of the titles of honor and nobility from Emperor down to Esquire?

ANSWER TO SPIDER QUESTIONS.

A DESCRIPTION OF A MEDIEVAL MONASTERY.

At the beginning of the sixteenth century Fountains Abbey was still a peaceful and happy home for many illustrious, learned and good men, who made it the refuge of the sick, the poor, the ignorant, and the penitent.

The abbey stands in the valley of the Skell (as usual with Cistercian abbeys, on the north bank of the river), on either side the land rises steeply, and is covered with thick foliage. In its perfect simplicity, beauty and solemn grandeur, it seems an emblem of its own noble and purifying aims, or a harmony of praise rising to heaven from man, from nature and from art.

The visitor would enter by the gate house, a little to the west of the abbey; from it he would see the west front of the church, with a fine window and Norman doorway; adjoining it on the south side, a long row of cloisters and dormitories, the porter's lodge, and a little nearer him the infirmary for the sick, and the hospitium or house for strangers.

At the period of which we write a large house would contain a chapel, a hall, a refectory, unless the hall served also as refectory, one or two parlours or sitting-rooms, a kitchen, buttery, bakehouse, brewery, cellar and large chambers overhead where would sleep all the household except members of the family and visitors who occupied separate rooms.

The plans of monasteries seem to have been very similar. In this case the renowned beauty of the church, which takes the place of the private chapel, would first attract the visitor's attention. Here the inmates of the monastery were bound to assemble at seven appointed hours for prayer, and although in many religious houses this and many other rules had been relaxed, it was probably still kept at Fountains, which was one of those where the accusations, raised by the enemies of monasticism, could not be substantiated. It is a very fine building but it is well filled by the large population of the monastery. Beautiful columns with slightly pointed arches form the nave and aisles and lead to the choir, which is separated from them by a wooden screen, which also serves to support a small organ; beyond