"OLD MORTALITY."--Sir Walter Scott's novel of _Old Mortality_ is one of
the recognized masterpieces of English literature. Its scenes are laid
in Scotland during the reign of Charles the Second and James, his
successor, a period which was characterized by intense religious
excitement, and fiery struggles between the Royalists, on the one hand,
and the Covenanters, or Presbyterians, on the other. In this novel
Colonel Grahame, of Claverhouse, cool, dauntless, and insensible to
pity, is one of the central figures. There is a tender love-story
running through the book, but its main interest, after all, is derived
from its splendid descriptions of battles and forays, which stir the
blood to enthusiasm, and rouse the martial impulse which is latent in
the most tranquil natures. The third, fourth, and fifth chapters of _Old
Mortality_ are full of power, and of that vivid word-painting which is
the highest style of writing. They possess the Homeric quality of
dramatic movement and majestic strength, and for reading aloud on a
chill winter night, when the wind is raging outside and the fire is
bright within, they are surpassed by nothing else that the Postmistress
remembers.
"Old Mortality" himself is scarcely an ideal character, as Sir Walter
drew his portrait from a peasant who for thirty years wandered through
the western districts of Ayr, Galloway, and Dumfries, spending his time
in freshening the inscriptions on the graves of the martyrs. Mounted on
a gaunt white pony, his gray locks straggling beneath an immense blue
"bonnet," his old coat of hodden-gray the worse for years of hard
service, his feet incased in hobnailed shoes, and his limbs covered with
leggings of strong black cloth, this old man, whose real name was Robert
Paterson, went from one church-yard to another among the wild moors and
lonely hills, removing the moss from the rude tombstones, and deepening
the fading letters with his chisel. He lived from house to house,
entertained by hospitable farmers, who revered him, and finally, when
very aged, was found expiring upon the highway, his faithful white pony
standing on guard by his side.
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WILLIE F.--Your idea that time spent in the study of the dead languages
is lost time, and that you would prefer to devote yourself wholly to
your native tongue, is perhaps a natural one, but it is based on an
error. Latin and Greek are dead languages in the sense that they are not
spoken in any land by living people to-day. But they are not dead in the
sense of having lost their vitality. They enter largely into our modern
languages, and no one can be a precise and thorough scholar in English
without some acquaintance with Latin at least. Study your Latin grammar
patiently, as your teacher advises, and though you do not yourself see
what good it will do you, believe me that after a while you will find
yourself repaid. There are some things which we must acquire by way of
discipline, for it is the disciplined mind which does the best work with
ease, just as the trained soldier can march farther and fight better
than the raw recruit.
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The Postmistress is fond of looking up the history of words. Some common
words have a very curious history. For instance, demijohn, a glass
bottle covered with basket-work, is a sort of puzzler. Why is it
demijohn? Why John at all? Or if John, why half-john? The truth is, it
has nothing to do with John; but was first manufactured at a town called
Damaghan, in Khorassan, a province of Persia, a place once renowned for
its glass-workers.--Calico, which is so dainty and pretty, and which the
little girls wear to school in summer, derives its name from Calicut in
India, from which handsome cotton goods were once imported to England.
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There are two articles in this paper that we want the members of the
C. Y. P. R. U. to read, because they will add to the stock of solid and
valuable information that the society is endeavoring to store away in
eager, appreciative minds, viz., "The Waves at Work," by Mr. Charles
Barnard, and "The Scullion who became a Sculptor," by Mr. George Cary
Eggleston. But there are two others that we want the boys and girls to
make the basis of prompt and energetic action. To begin with, we want
the article "On Cigarette Smoking" to produce such an impression that
the stoves and ranges in all houses inhabited by the coming men of the
next generation shall have a grand smoke, consuming in the operation all
the compounded horrors in the way of bad paper, bad tobacco, dirt,
opium, etc., that we now see defiling lips and destroying the nerve and
brain power of the gallant lads to whom the world will soon look for the
wit, the wisdom, the sagacity and the command, that shall keep her
moving in the right direction. Then we want nobody to omit the sketch of
"A School Restaurant," with its pretty illustrations. Papas and mammas
do not like to say no when their pets ask them for pocket-money, and the
pocket-money is nearly sure to go to the confectioner's till. Suppose
you all ask your parents and teachers to consider our idea of a school
dinner nicely served every day. Most of you are sensible folk, and know
just as well as your physicians, or the Postmistress does how much
brighter, better, and rosier you would feel and look if you could have a
hearty nourishing meal to sustain you through the labors and pleasures
of the latter half of the day.
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