has all the grace and beauty of promise which in the works of nature as in those of man are, nine times out of ten, superior to those of performance. Then comes the ripening charm of adolescence and nubile years. This period, when-to use the splendid lines which the author of "Festus" wrote, and of which the author of "The Angel World," whose chief mission it seems to be to dishonour his early work, is, I suppose, ashamed

The blood is bright, breath sweet, skin smooth,

And limbs all made to minister delight

is, of course, the crowning period of beauty. With increasing years features as a rule grow more accentuated, tricks of style develop into uncomfortable mannerisms, the smile hardens into the grimace, and the whole aspect has not seldom, when the individuality most strongly asserts itself, something of caricature. This state of things lasts until the arrival of age, when modifying influences make themselves felt, and when returning feebleness and the foreshadowing of dissolution bring back something of the pathos and grace of childhood. In the faces of men whose occupations through life have been purely mechanical, habits of observation and thought, small as they may be, give the look something almost akin to culture. I do not expect these views to pass undisputed or unchallenged. They may be accepted, however, as observations from life; and the more a man thinks upon the question, the more speedily he will come to similar conclusions. I do not say that the illustration holds true in every case. I think, however, it is general enough in application to have the force of a law.

A NOVEL TAX.

F many proofs of Yankee ingenuity, the most remarkable that

stitute direct for indirect taxation with regard to the liquor traffic, which is being tried in Indiana. A Bill is at present before the Legislature of that State, the effect of which will be to impose an annual tax of ten dollars upon every man who wishes to drink intoxicating liquors. A sum like this, which constitutes more than the annual earnings of a ryot, is, of course, considerable. It represents, however, but a small portion of the tax which the middle-class Englishman annually pays the State in the shape of liquor-duty. It is worth notice, as restraining the privilege to get drunk which the possession of a licence might seem to imply, that the "permit" is to be forfeited on the first conviction for intoxication. Out of the sum

raised by the licences it is intended, moreover, to maintain asylums for inebriates.

IN

OUR LINGUISTIC ACCESSIONS.

N the case of a language so composite as English, the introduction and assimilation of words taken from foreign sources are natural and familiar processes. Some opposition is at first encountered by the new-comer, but if it serves any purpose we end by giving it welcome. In this respect, our treatment of foreigners, whatever their nature, is the same commencing in shyness and reserve, and ending in effusiveness and hospitality. Words and phrases like chauvinisme, morgue, sommité, mise en scène, and others which, in one sense at least, have no exact equivalent, or supply the place of a periphrase, have already found acceptance; while others, such as matinée applied to an entertainment musical or dramatic, caucus, Geist, and the like, linger on the threshold. A style surcharged with Gallicisms, Americanisms, or Teutonisms, is to be avoided. There is, however, no reason to oppose neologisms, whatever their source, when they fit the genius of our language; and the fact that we have words of almost the same meaning, affords no reason why we should not enrich our tongue with synonyms or equivalents, if we can get them. The only real danger to our language comes from the over-employment in scientific matters of Greek terminology. In the attempt to denote certain forms of animal or vegetable life, and certain developments of disease, a jargon wholly alien from our language is employed. I, for one, prefer talking of the parrot tribe by that name to calling them the Psittacida, and I maintain that intellectual vision is darkened rather than illumined by the use of such words as chylopoetic or chylificatory.

M

OUR LINGUISTIC DONATIONS.

EANWHILE, it is curious to see the kind of words that our neighbours consent to accept at our hands. That the vocabulary of sport in France is mainly English, furnishes little cause for pride. In adopting a word like groom, the French but return our lead in taking valet. A complete interchange of words bearing upon certain trades has been introduced, but is confined to the districts between which an active commerce prevails. Rheims in Champagne, or Turcoing on the Belgian frontier, and Bradford in Yorkshire, have thus what may almost be called a lingua franca, or pigeon English,

in which commercial affairs are carried on by those who are ignorant of the language of one another. We have, however, given the French the word comfortable, and we may in time supply them with cosy, to which also they have no equivalent. It is amusing to see that gentleman has now almost superseded gentilhomme, which should have precisely the same signification. The one word, however, supplies a French notion of the gentleman, and the other the English. Gentleman appears in the Dictionary of Littré. Among other words to be found therein are tramway, express as a substantive signifying a train, flint-glass, jockey, and steamer. So much less elastic is the French language than our own, that the acceptance of words such as these shows how urgent are the needs of intercommunication. Ticket has not found its way into Littré, but that word, with performance and the announcement, Great Attraction, are all common in the theatrical world. A punch and a grog have long been established.

W

KINDNESS TO ANIMALS AN ENGLISH ATTRIBUTE.

WHEN we sum up the advantages of modern days, and endeavour to estimate to what extent we are better than our forefathers, there is one aspect of improvement which the veriest pessimist will not deny. In morals we may be where we were a hundred years ago, or earlier. We have at least learnt the lesson of kindness to animals. It is a very significant fact that we are teaching to those who are supposed to be the most humane race under the sun-to the Hindoos, that is—the lesson of humanity. On account of our flesh-eating propensities, we are regarded by the Hindoo as detestable, disgusting, and accursed. Those, however, who are so reluctant to put animals to death, have no notion of treating them with mercy. A branch of that excellent institution, the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals-to which, in spite of its unpopularity, it is largely owing that our streets are not like Pandemonium-has been established in Calcutta, and the inhabitants of that capital have been taught by penalties that they may not withhold water from captive animals, carry them with their heads downward, or otherwise inflict upon them needless and cruel suffering. In no respect is England so worthy of the pre-eminence she enjoys as in setting foreign nations this example. When I think of the cruelty I never fail to see in every part of the Continent, and compare it with our own more merciful ways, I wish we could send out missionaries to preach the doctrine of love to animals throughout the length and breadth of soi-disant civilisation,

SYLVANUS URBAN.

THE

GENTLEMAN'S MAGAZINE,

AUGUST 1881.

THE COMET OF A SEASON.

"G"

BY JUSTIN MCCARTHY, M.P.

CHAPTER XXIII.

GAMES OF CROSS-PURPOSES.

IVE me a call to-day at half-past four; I want to see you particularly; be sure to come; no puttings-off, mind."

Such was the tenor of a little note Montana received from Lady Vanessa about noon of the day which had opened for him by the death-bed of his father. He was in little mood for the whims of a great lady. He would have evaded Vanessa's peremptory invitation if he could. But there was a straightforward strength of purpose about Lady Vanessa which always impressed him, and he felt sure that if she sent for him it was really because she had something to say which it would be well for him to hear. Besides, he began to think that it probably had something to do with the meeting between Geraldine and himself in Berkeley Square. It might be important for him to hear what the sprightly lady had to say on that subject. So he was punctual in his visit. Exactly at the appointed hour he was in Vanessa's drawing-room. Montana always prided himself on his punctuality. He had but one hero in his boyish, romantic days, and that was the Count of Monte Cristo; and the Count of Monte Cristo had an impressive way of always turning up at the exact moment, even if he had to come from the other end of the world. Half-unconsciously Montana was often playing the part of his boyhood's hero even still.

VOL. CCLI. NO. 1808.

K

"So, here you are!" was Lady Vanessa's gracious greeting. "I knew you would come; I want to talk to you."

Lady Vanessa had just as much cruelty in her disposition as is consistent with general good-nature; that is to say, she felt kindly towards most persons, towards nearly all whom she knew, and she would have been glad, if it were put to her, to do a good turn for any man or woman. Nor would she under any circumstances have carried a freak of cruelty to the extent of inflicting serious pain. But within these limits she occasionally liked to be a little cruel, even to those for whom she had some regard. It gave her a pleasant sense of power when she was annoying people. She liked to sport with them, and make them seem ridiculous. Now, she had taken somewhat of a liking for Geraldine-"the little American," as she called her-but she was none the less glad of the opportunity given to her to hurt the little American's feelings slightly, and to sport with her.

"What is the address of your little American?" she asked Montana abruptly.

"Do you mean Miss Rowan? She is not little, and she is not American."

"Oh, I call her little," said Lady Vanessa, conscious of her own superb height. "She is little to tall folks like you and me; and I call her American because she has been a long time in America, and picked up the ways of the people there."

"Another correction I would suggest," Montana quietly said. "You call her my little American, and she is not mine in any sense."

"Put she is going to be, ain't she? I suppose you don't confabulate with girls in the public squares at midnight-girls like that, I mean-unless there is an engagement between you. I don't see what better you could do, my good friend. She is a very pretty girl, and clever and good, I'm sure. But if I were you, I wouldn't have meetings by moonlight alone with the girl I was going to marry. It won't do her any good in people's eyes. Now, I mean to go and see her and give her a warning. She is as innocent as a goose of all our ways here, and it is only Christian charity to put her up to things. You know that I am nothing if not Christian and charitable."

Montana was annoyed at the way in which Lady Vanessa spoke, but thought it hardly worth while to take it seriously, and make any objection; and he was not perhaps in his heart sorry that she should go to Geraldine and tell her of the risk she ran by meeting him at night in the square. So he gave Lady Vanessa Geraldine's address, and Lady Vanessa straightway drove off to Captain Marion's house and asked to see Miss Rowan.