CHAPTER I.--_De Omnibus Rebus.

"_Ars longa, vita brevis;_"[1] and indeed "man wants but little here below, nor wants that little long."[2] An oriental writer has told us that "all flesh is grass," to which a Scots poet[3] has replied, that "A man's a man for a' that." There is a Greek aphorism, not sufficiently well known, which says [Greek: gnôthi seauton]. This has been ably rendered by POPE in the words "Know thyself."[4] Proverbially "piety begins at home," but it is wrong to deduce from this that education ends when we leave school; "it goes on through life."[5]

Books are an educational force. They "have often been compared to friends,"[6] whom we "never cut."[7] They "are better than all the tarts and toys in the world."[8] It is not generally known that "English literature is the inheritance of the English race,"[9] on whose Empire, by the way, "the sun never sets." We even have "books in the running brooks," as the Bard of Avon[10] tells us; so that not only "he that runs," but he that swims, "may read."

"Knowledge for the million,"[11] is the "_fin de siècle_"[12] cry of the hour. But "life is real, life is earnest,"[13] and we have no time to study original thinkers such as CONFUCIUS and TUPPER. "_Altiora Peto_"[14] is a saying for the leisured class only. The mass must get its wisdom second-hand and concentrated. If "reading maketh a full man,"[15] this kind of reading maketh a man to burst. Hence the "sad in sweet"[16] of the book of quoted platitudes. Yet, of course, "there are great ways of borrowing. Genius borrows nobly."[17] And it is well to have "the courage of" other people's "opinions."

But reading is not all. You must "use your head."[18] And you must, and can, keep it too. For a good man's head is not like a seed-cake that passes in the using. And, again, remember the proverb that "manners makyth man"; though this is not the true cause of the over-population of our islands. In social life much will depend on the way in which you behave to others. "Never lose your temper, and if you do, at any rate hold your tongue, and try not to show it"[19]--except, one may add, to a doctor.

Many people cannot say "No!" Others early learn to say "No!" when asked to do disagreeable things. "_Mens sana in corpore_ sano." If the last word is pronounced _Say No_, this constitutes a word-play. There are some bad word-plays in SHAKSPEARE. I disapprove of humour, new or old.

"No man who knows what his income is, and what he is spending, will run into extravagance."[20] PLUTARCH tells us of a man whose income was £500, and he spent £5000 a year knowingly. This must have been an exceptional case. There is an obscure dictum that "money is the root of all evil." "Gold! gold!"[21] said an ill-known poet, and, on the other hand, "Hail, independence!"[22] said another. "If thou art rich, thou'rt poor"[23] is on the face of it an untruth.

[Footnote 1: "Principia Latina."]

[Footnote 2: Goldsmith.]

[Footnote 3: Burns.]

[Footnote 4: "Essay on Man."]

[Footnote 5: Lubbock.]

[Footnote 6: Lubbock.]

[Footnote 7: "Punch."]

[Footnote 8: Macaulay.]

[Footnote 9: Lubbock.]

[Footnote 10: Shakspeare.]

[Footnote 11: Calverley.]

[Footnote 12: Oscar Wilde.]

[Footnote 13: Longfellow.]

[Footnote 14: Lawrence Oliphant.]

[Footnote 15: Bacon.]

[Footnote 16: Browning.]

[Footnote 17: Emerson.]

[Footnote 18: Lubbock.]

[Footnote 19: Lubbock.]

[Footnote 20: Lubbock.]

[Footnote 21: Park Benjamin.]

[Footnote 22: Churchill.]

[Footnote 23: Shakspeare.]

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OF VAIN COLOURS.

When the century, growing a little bit mellow, Produces carnations outrageously green; When you notice a delicate, dairy-like yellow Adorn the pale face of the best margarine; When canaries, all warranted excellent singers, Are sold in the street for a shilling apiece, But at home all the yellow comes off on your fingers, Substrata of brown making daily increase; When a lady you happen to meet on a Monday With hair that is grey, and with cheeks that are old, Appears shortly after, the following Sunday, With rosy complexion, and tresses of gold; When a nursemaid has one of the worst scarlet-fevers, Or merely, it may be, a fit of the blues; When you're offered "Old Masters" as black as coal-heavers, Or shirts of quite "fast" unwashoutable hues; When a blue ribbon's equally known as denoting Teetotal fanatics, a Rad, or a Tory-- In these and like cases too num'rous for quoting Remember old VIRGIL, "_Ne crede colori._"

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THE CHRONICLES OF A RURAL PARISH.

VI.--PREPARING FOR THE POLL.

When I do a thing, I like to do it properly, for even my worst enemies, who call me a fool, admit that I'm a _thorough_ fool. I have accordingly lost no time in getting to work at my electoral campaign. I commenced at a great disadvantage. The other seven candidates were electioneering for a week before the Parish Meeting, and the result was that they all polled three times as many votes as I did. That has happened once. I don't intend that it shall happen more than once.

The first move I made was to cover my house with placards. I noticed that in a recent election Mr. ATHELSTON RILEY had pursued these tactics with great success, so I plastered the whole of the walls with "WINKINS FOR MUDFORD"--"VOTE FOR WINKINS,"--but thereby hangs a tale. I gave my instructions to the local printer, and told him where they were to be posted, directing him to do it in the twilight, so that the whole effect might dawn once and for ever upon an astonished village in the morning. He did it, but unfortunately he didn't keep a proof-reader. I noticed next day, before I went out, that all the school-children looked up at the house and giggled. I thought it was merely the inappreciativeness of the youthful mind. There I was wrong. It was the fact that the children knew how to spell that caused the mischief. My house was covered with appeals to "WOTE FOR VINKINS!" It did not take long to get new bills printed, but I am not disposed to deny I was a trifle disconcerted by this false start.

I am now hard at work canvassing. My wife flatly declines to help, and I'm afraid to suggest the girls should take the field in support of their father. I tried to secure the services of the vicar's two daughters, but he only wrote rather a stiff note to say that he thought they would have quite enough to do in advocating his claims. I am not always at one with the clergy, but for once I agree with him. I _have_ succeeded, however, in getting Miss PHILL BURTT to help me. Her full name is, of course, PHYLLIS; but it's always called and spelt "PHILL"--I could never understand why. She's a most delightful girl, and is worth, at least, a hundred votes to me. As I explained once before, she has an extraordinary habit of calling all the villagers "idiots"--of course, I mean to her friends (such as myself), not to the villagers themselves. I asked her one day why, if she thought them idiots, she was kind enough to take the trouble to canvass them. "Well, you see," she said with a charming smile that was all her own; "I'm asking them to vote for _you_." At the time I thought this was a pretty saying, prettily said. I even told it with some amount of pride to my wife just to show her that there were people who did not sympathise with her haughty indifference. Curiously enough my wife only laughed consumedly. When she had recovered, I asked her why she laughed. "Do you _really_ mean to say, TIMOTHY," was her reply, "that you don't see what she meant?"

"Well, though it may seem idiotic...." I said, and was going to add, "I don't," but before I said that, I _did_ see what she (PHYLLIS, of course, I mean) _might_ have meant. Yet I hope she didn't. Miss BURTT has only one drawback as a canvasser. She is so ridiculously scrupulous, I came across an old woman the other day who was quite deaf to my appeals. Whilst I reasoned with her, I found out how kind PHYLLIS was to her. "Miss PHILL, she's really good to us poor people. I'd vote for _her_ if she was standing." I left, having produced no impression. A day or two after I met Miss PHILL BURTT, and asked her to go and canvass the old woman; I felt sure she could secure her vote. Will it be believed that she wouldn't? She said it would be really undue influence if she did. How strange that even the nicest of women are so strangely unpractical at times! Another woman she refused to see because she never called upon her at ordinary times. Still, with all her faults, Miss BURTT is a tower of strength, and as I see her daily going about, canvass book in hand, my hopes rise higher and higher.

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OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

Sir PHILIP SIDNEY was, as all the world knows, "a veray parfit gentil knight." Possibility of this presupposition of knowledge is fortunate, since Miss ANNA M. STODDART'S account of this heroic figure is not, my Baronite sorrowfully says, likely to convey any adequate idea of its personality. Mr. FOX BOURNE and Mr. ADDINGTON SYMONDS have written biographies of the Elizabethan soldier, in which he boldly stands forth. Miss STODDART modestly says her object is "in no way to compete with" these standard works. But why write at all? The marvel is, as Dr. JOHNSON did not exactly say in illustration of an argument respecting another feminine achievement, not that the work should not have been well done, but that it possibly could be done with such wooden effect. If Miss STODDART had taken a sheet of paper and with her pair of scissors cut out the figure of a man, writing across it "This is PHILIP SIDNEY," she would have conveyed quite as clear and moving a picture of the man as is found in the 111 pages of her book. But then, Mr. BLACKWOOD would not have published the scrap of paper, and we should not have had the charming portrait of SIDNEY, or the sketches of Penshurst by MARGARET L. HUGGINS which adorn the daintily got-up volume.

My Baronitess writes:--S. BARING GOULD turns into delightful English prose some of the ancient Icelandic Sagas, or songs, and shows us how _Grettir the Outlaw_ was a Grettir man than was generally supposed by anyone who had never heard very much about him. When he departed, was he very much Re-grettir'd by all who knew him?

Messrs. MACMILLAN offer _My New Home_, provided by Mrs. MOLESWORTH, which many of the little "new" women would like to see. Illustrated by L. LESLIE BROOKE: "BROOKE" suggests "water colours,"--a new idea for _next_ Christmas.

_Sou'-wester and Sword_, by HUGH ST. LEGER. A nautical and military combination. The Sou'wester of a tar is not at all at sea when, after a pleasant little shipwreck, he joins the forces at Suakim. The winner of _this_ ST. LEGER was a rank outsider, with the odds against him, but he wins the day by "throstling" (a new word) a few Soudanese; who must have seemed quite forty to one!

A cousin, especially a Colonial, is such a very pleasant indistinct sort of relative, that he is bound to be a hero of romance, though perhaps a cousin at hand is worth two in the bush; at least, so thinks the heroine in _My Cousin from Australia_, by EVELYN EVERETT GREEN (HUTCHINSON & CO.); whilst the one whom she should have wed was of course a wicked Baronet (does one often meet a good Baronet in fiction?), who tries to upset his successful rival by giving him a tip over an agreeably high cliff. It is a Christmas story, and so the "tip" is just at the right time. How it ends----You'll see.

_Black and White_ has gone in for a shilling's worth of the truly wonderful in _The Dream Club_, by BARRIE PAIN and EDEN PHILPOTTS. It is quite an after-turkey, plum-pudding, mince-pie dinner story. How authors and artists must have suffered, judging, at least, by the delightful nightmare illustrations. And the picture-lady of the cover--ahem!--she has evidently forgotten that she is supposed to be "out" at Christmas.

Between the boards of LOTHAR MEGGENDORFER'S moveable toy-books (H. GREVEL & CO.) lies genuine fun. _The Scenes of the Life of a Masher_ are simply irresistible. Little ones will be delighted with _The Transformation Scenes_, besides, there is _Charming Variety_ with a _Party of Six_. These books are a good tip for a Christmas gift for the representatives of Tommy and Harry.

Had G. W. APPLETON'S _The Co-Respondent_--an attractive title--been in the form of a short magazine story, it would probably have been amusing from first to last. Now it is only amusing at first. Good idea all the same. The old quotation about "Sir HUBERT STANLEY" is brought in, and, of course, incorrectly. It is not "_Praise_ from Sir HUBERT STANLEY," but "approbation." However, as it is said by a light-hearted girl of a very modern type, it may be assumed that the misquotation is intentional.

THE B. DE B.-W.

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Transcriber's Note

- - indicated italic text; = = indicates bold text.

Missing or damaged punctuation has been repaired.

Page 279: 'beariny' corrected to 'bearing'.

"_Enter_ The Visible Prince (_like the_ King _and his companions in "Love's Labour's Lost"_) _"in Russian habits" but bearing a true British face_, not _masked_."

Page 286: 'neigbbour' corrected to 'neighbour'.

"and-a-next-door-neighbour-who-plays-the-piano-night-and-day."

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