The disparity between your correspondent's account of the social qualities of the science man and that of Dr. Wilson is amusing. According to the one he attends every ball, bonfire, society, club, party and anything else that can be attended; according to the other he shuns the society of all but his fellow-workers, and finds his only amusement and society in the narrow circle of his scientific club. Both are equally wrong. The average science man is fond of society, and reasonably inclined to amuse himself when opportunity offers; but he is too much in earnest over his work, and too sensible of the importance of making sure the foundations of his career to sacrifice his necessary studies to pleasure. He is genial and a pleasant companion, more open-minded than most men, glad to be instructed in any subject foreign to his particular line of study, and properly conscious of his own intellectual worth, as well as of his intellectual defects. Above all things he is thoroughly in earnest, and generally loves as an enthusiast the subject to which he devotes his time and his life. He does not harmonize with the indulgent tendencies of modern University life, but is that to be a reproach to him? I might say much more, but have already written at wearisome length, and must bring my letter to a close. I am, Sir, faithfully yours, G. C. BOURne.

THE NON-COLLEGIATE COLLEGE. DEAR SIR,-I ask you to allow me space for a few remarks upon a "Note" which appeared in your columns on Oct. 19 relating to "the New Buildings for the Non-Collegiate Students," as I gather they are commonly called. The writer of that "Note" appears to be strangely ignorant both of the ratio existendi of our body and of the feelings of its members.

First, I wish to deny in toto the statement that the establishment of the Non-Collegiate Body was intended as "an attack on the College system." It is incredible that a person who ventures to write on such a subject should be so absolutely ignorant of the state of the case as your correspondent makes himself out to be. His error is sufficiently disproved by reference to the names of our Censors. Can any sane person entertain for a moment the probability of a hideous conspiracy to break up the College system on the part of the present Dean of Winchester, the present Rector of Exeter (who held a Fellowship conjointly with the Censorship), and Mr. Pope, the present Censor? Or are we to suppose that these gentlemen accepted the post in order to avert the dreaded attack on the College system, and with a wiliness, which Macchiavelli might have envied, have so distorted the intentions of our founders, that we are now rapidly becoming assimilated to those institutions which we were destined to supplant?

The object of the Non-Collegiate Body is to extend the advantages of Oxford training to those who are unable to afford the expenses of College life; and I may show its efficacy by my own case; you state in your last number that it usually costs £800 to reside four years; my four I would further ask your correspondent whether the expenditure of £7000 is intended to furnish our body with hitherto unenjoyed advantages, or to complete the New Schools according to the original design. It could not of course be expected that his researches into the condition of the body about which he publishes his crude opinions would have led him to discover that at the Clarendon Buildings we have an Office, a Library, a Reading and Debating Room, and that our Lecture Rooms are in the New Schools. Such, however, is the case, and when the new wing of the Schools is completed, these will be located there. I am not aware that there will be any additional adjuncts (fit only to be enjoyed by a College) surreptitiously given us by the extravagant grant for the completion of the Building. The comparative usefulness of money spent in founding a Professoriate, or publishing learned books, or of the same money used to extend the sphere of University influence may be regarded by some as a moot point. I cannot myself so regard it.

years' residence cost me less than half that amount.

I doubt whether most to wonder at the daring or the blind ignorance which prompted the latter part of the Note. We do not each and all long to change our name, or insist on being called St. Catharine's on every available opportunity, i. e. attempt to sail under false colours. Does Balliol yearn to be called "of Dervorguilla"? Docs the Trinity Undergraduate conceal his connection with the College under the title of "a member of the Gryphon"? As in their case, so it is in ours; we are essentially Non-Collegiate Students, accidentally St. Catharine's, and as such some at least (I dare not speak for all, for all I do not know) will be glad to remain, and among them, Yours faithfully,

St. Mark's School, Windsor, Oct. 30, 1887,

J. B. BAKER.

Will anyone tell me in what year "canoes were first introduced at Oxford? Contemporary magazines and papers no doubt recorded the novelty: I should be glad of an early quotation containing the word, as

applied to an English canoe. All my quotations refer to those of savages, or of prehistoric men. Whence was the pattern of the ordinary

THE Fours have ended in another victory for the Hall, who beat Third Trinity on the first day, Emmanuel on the The best race was second, and Pembroke in the final. between King's and Pembroke on the second day, which Pembroke won by a few yards in spite of Titanic efforts on the part of Orford. The coxing throughout was unskilful; several boats ran into the bank more than once, and King's in its race against Lady Margaret took a considerable lengthy rest on Ditton sward.

Parker's Piece and Corpus ground have witnessed further contests of more than Trafalgar-square violence. The old Cantabs came up on Wednesday, but were beaten by our Fifteen by 2 goals to a goal and 2 tries, although they played seven Internationals. On Saturday we were defeated by the Harlequins by a goal to 2 tries: our forwards were slow, and the passing was clumsy, so that Duncan lost both the ball and his temper frequently. The most important Association match was against the Casuals last Wednesday: in spite of brilliant dashes by Walters, and bovine attempts by Fox to disable our men, we won by three goals to love, seeing that Ford guarded our goal.

Professor Stokes is to be our new member. Besides the sine qua non of ultra-Toryism the Professor's qualifications are twofold, he holds a churchwardenship which will please the clergy elector, and has great powers of sleeping under difficulties, which will make him invaluable in view of Irish obstruction.

The dispute about a Modern Languages School at Oxford has made us aware of the existence of a similar Tripos here: enquiries have been instituted, and it has been found that not much harm has been done as yet. It certainly seems a pity that fresh victims should be sent to the literary dissectingroom: we have killed Sophocles and Vergil; will not the maniac of the philological scalpel confine himself to them and let Shakespeare and Dante live in peace? Happily the curse is still as impotent as it is malignant: vivisection is unpopular even among ladies, and the undergraduate has made a poor show at it as regards both numbers and skill. This may seem a negative argument for the establishment of the proposed School, but it is the best adducible.

Wombwell has been with us, and the wild beast has roared on Midsummer Common, but the undergraduate was not deterred from his tub though a lion was in the path. Some genius has suggested that Mr. W. amalgamate with

Cavendish if this were done men might visit that college, which would be good exercise and a novel experience.

Those who bow down to stocks and stones have recently received a rebuff amounting almost to martyrdom: the priests of geologism wished to buy some land belonging to Downing whereon to raise their new temple: but Downing, holding that the site of so priceless a building must itself be priceless, demanded £10,000 an acre, and the tabernacle of the Plesiosaurus is still seeking an abiding city.

MORNING ON LAKE CONSTANCE.
DARKNESS, that deeper than the middle night.
Steals ever in the van of coming day,
All in a mist of vapour hid the hills
And shadowed the dead stillness of the lake,
Stirred only by the dark ship's driving prow.
Far off the beacon peered through blurring gloom
Out of the haven's distance: so we passed
Down the dividing deeps; and silently
To westward in our wake the morning drew,
Till on the misty mountains veiled she stood,
And through the waters ran a thrill of joy,
Tremulous, as of one that sees his hope.
But ah! no godlike glory of the sun
Burst through to break the rallied ranks of night,
To bid the hill-tops stand and shout for joy,
And all the valleys laugh for deep delight.
Only a twilight between gleam and gloom
Moved through the mist with never a magic touch;
And only over longing lands the light

As of a smile that hath more chill than charm
Played from the passionless grey eyes of day.
So dawns a face of beauty on the life
Of him that out of night's great loneliness
Looks for love's day, and lo! a phantom dawn.
All grace is there to draw the waiting eyes;
But love?—a mist is on the morning skies:
Somewhere he doubts not that a golden sun
Shines even now upon some happier heart
And lights it to love's glamour: but-for him.
It is the false flush of a dawn of dreams.
His day breaks, but the shadows only flee
That served to kindly shroud his solitude.

ROMANSHORN, CONSTANCE.

O. S.

THE RHINE, AS SHE IS DESCRIBED. MANY tourists, narrowed by insular prejudice, direct their continental movements by the time-honoured and inflexible Murray, or by the bourgeois and utilitarian Cook. The cosmopolitan Bädeker has shown himself unworthy of his country and careless of the magnificent idiom of his native tongue, by basely conforming to the wants of English and American travellers, and producing books which read almost like English. What education is there in all this for the tourist? He is only encouraged in his heresy of looking at things from his own point of view he misses the local feeling he never reaches the standpoint of the native. How much better, how much more instructive, to purchase some carefully-executed guide-book on the spot, to breathe the atmosphere of the neighbourhood, to see what the native thinks ought to be seen, and to carry away the true impression of the scenery, and the necessary historical and literary allusions.

What, for example, could be better than, after an exhausting journey (say) in Switzerland, to drop gently, on some soft day in late autumn, down the "wide and winding Rhine," armed with the Rhein-Panorama of Mr. A. Henry, of Bonn, which can be purchased for the ridiculously small sum of one mark. It is true that in his tri-columnar arrangement there is a running description, veiled in the "But these obscurities of the German or French language. are not for thee!" Henry has faced the intolerable English idiom, and, in a series of genial paragraphs, has constituted himself our "guide, philosopher, and friend."

It is just thirty years since we first voyaged down the Rhine. The only memories left were confusion, mist, and darkness. Henry's star had not then blazed above the horizon. Last month we glided again over those same fair waters, supported and enlightened by the enterprising Henry, drinking in new knowledge at every bend, and stimulated with the desire to solve mysteries that had never before presented themselves. At the very outset, when we have scarcely left Biebrich, Henry makes us familiar with his national poets: "Wolfgang Müller," we learn, "described in his Rhine way the lovely wine, the Markobrunn." We must not suppose that his "Rhine way" means his "Rhenish style," but apparently a work detailing his wanderings on the Rhine. Nor need we be surprised that he found a fitting subject for his muse in those noble vineyards, which we learn are "most year fully cultived." The neighbourhood of Niederwald deserves and receives an appropriate tribute: "Above the rapid rises is tower of Ehrenfels, erected for the purpose of levying toll on passing bouts. 1210 by Philipp Rolanden many demaged." Among the stimulating mysteries we may quote a dark speech from the description of the Rochusberg, near Bingen: "Goethe described this faste 16 aout very beautiful. The old castle Klopp where 1105 Henry IV was take presonne by his son. Is now Allert at Cologne, beautiful." The French parallel column, though innocent of gender and orthography, supplies here the necessary "crib," in spite of its own mysteriousness. "Roche, la fête de St. Rochus est 16 août, Goethe écrit charment le fête. Le chateau Klopp, ou Henri IV fut rétenu prisonnier par son fil en 1105 maintenant Mons. Allert à Cologne." This lifts the veil of Isis: but the relations of Mons. Allert to "old castle Klopp" are still hazy. But we are sliding down the stream. Now we are at Bacharach, where "the ruines of castle Stahleck goes on the Rhine"; now we slip past Caub and Oberwesel, till we see where "above Goarshausen rise the imposing rock of the Lurley, rocks are on the Rhine. The beautiful fable is here popular at the girl by Heine." Or, as Henry puts it darkly in his French equivalent, “Ici est le chante populaire de l'Allemagne 'Ich weiss nicht."" This is indeed pwvâvτa ovveroîow. There is much to bid the traveller linger here. "It is worth white the view at Rheinfels trough a beautiful alley to attain at St. Goar." We must hope that the local Sally is en évidence in this remarkable landscape. But it will be wise to hurry on, and above all things not to tarry at Coblenz: for this beautiful town must be perilous to the visitor, as being "the seat of the civil and military authomates"; and it is impossible to say what these may be, or what action they may take in their caprice. You may even leave your bones blanching there, as others appear to have done; for "at the simetry the General-FeldMarschall v. Bitterfeld." Even Henry seems to feel this depression, for he sadly confesses: "The valley of the Rhine gets much wide here, the rocks on both shores lying farther in country." But Remagen cheers his flagging spirits, for he tells us that "immediately behind the town rilies an georgeous view"; and strong in his recovered liveliness he proceeds to enumerate the peaks of the Siebengebirge. "There are the names, Drachenfels the saying from the

horny Siegfried and the dragon, &c., &c. Till Königswinter is a railway at Drachenfels, beautiful view, greats stonescutters." Enveloped in this oracle is an allusion to the Zahnradbahn up the Drachenfels, and to the quarries in the neighbourhood. As Henry conducts us to his own home in the town of Bonn, he drops the enthusiast for the statistician. But though he hardly seems to appreciate the intellectual status of his own city, it is a great thing to cast off from the pier at Bonn, having learned that among "things worthy of notice" is "the University 1500 ft. in length.' Could we form a syndicate, and attract Herr Henry to Oxford? He could write us an entirely new guide-book, and might reproduce the passing remark of the American, as his train paused at our station: "Oxford! why, certainly, that's the birthplace of Tiffany, of New Orleans, who invented the

small-tooth comb."

A PAPER FROM “THE TATLER.” No. 99. Thursday, April 1, 171–. "Et belle cantas et saltas, Attice, belle, &c." Mart. Epigs. ii. 7. Will's Coffee House, March 31st. FLORIO is one of those polite poets who make the grand tour of Parnaffus in a coach-and-fix and go to Aganippe and Caftalia to drink the waters only when thefe fprings have rifen to the dignity of Epfom and Tunbridge. In the temple of Phoebus he is a veteran ogler: 'tis very certain he hath treated Terpsichore to the fiddles twice; at the laft Olympian rout Erato honoured him with a tap of her fan; Clio hath ceafed to figh for the learned Freeman, and the other day Urania, who is a blue-flocking, turned almost yellow with envy when Florio handed Polyhymnia to her chariot after the play. In a word there is not a Mufe but hath given him a kind glance, for all the Nine are fenfible 'tis a great match -Mnemofyne is the happief of mothers, and Juppiter hath been heard to declare after the fecond bottle that Florio's rebufes are mighty fine and that little baggage Thalia can have his confent and bleffing to-morrow. To leave these fublimities, Florio and the fwains of his choir have lately put pen to paper in feveral copies of verfes; their pipes are tuned to more files than are cited by Polonius in the play, but after the manner of an organ their various flops of many quills are compofed in a fingle cafe and Cupid ftrikes every chord, the book is full of thofe pretty and durable fentiments which have ftood the wear of time fince the creation of the first lover, the fair conquerors are cruel with a furprisingly | fmall proportion of confonants, their flaves fuffer almost unfolaced by the letter "s," and the paper hath a delicious perfume. Our rhymefters are all fick with love; Corydon is afflicted with an incurable "aeger," Manilio cannot row for Gloriana's ravages on his heart, and Thyrfis is turned valetudinarian and protefts he has no ftomach to read between meals. As each of the company is the child of Nature they all find it wonderfully hard to take a degree in Arts, but all are Bachelors of Taste, and many are perfect Mafters of the Beautiful. Thus Manilio will tell you many times that the fighings of Favonius are softer than the hiccup of Vulcan, and Thyrfis took occafion of a viva voce to inftruct the Mafters of the fchools that imagination is the trueft means of arriving at knowledge. 'Tis feared that thefe perfons were men of contemptible understanding, for I have heard the youth whifper to Daphnis that he really feared the plough, whereupon Daphnis replied that he had no fympathy with reality. Thyrfis rejoined by afking could there be a fenfation more proper to a poet than the neceffity of fame, and Daphnis named "the defire to die."

behaviour of a member of this fociety, who hath outdone the generous gentlemen in Dr. Goldsmith's novel, that conceals his wealth in order that his mistress may love him for himself alone. How much nobler the fpirit of the deftitute Claudio! This gentleman is fo far gone in romance and poetry that when he fallied out from Curfitor Street to besiege the divine Clarinda (the charmer hath a plum to her fortune) he pretended to be a country gentleman of great estates, that his angel might love him for himfelf without the unjust advantages that must attach to the picturesque state of a beggar in a fuit to fo romantic a young lady.

**Since writing the above I hear that Daphnis, after defiring to die for the laft five years, hath confented to take a college living. Thyrfis too hath broke the crook and now breaks ferules on the fons of perfons of quality, being turned fhepherd of boys, and Corydon alfo hath taken his last poetic flight, the fwain being lately fallen on his feet in Her Majesty's Foreign Office. C.

Reviews.

THE KERNEL AND THE HUSK1.

To separate what is vitally true in Christianity from what is unimportant or accidental would be a service of the highest value: and this is the chief object of the work before us. The results which are arrived at do not materially differ from the author's former teaching in Philochristus and Onesimus. But The Kernel and the Husk, besides attempting this problem, offers a philosophy of religion, and indeed a general theory of knowledge. This must be the reviewer's excuse for neglecting the theology, which is already well known, and confining himself to the first, viz. the philosophical portion of the work. No one would venture to speak of the author except in terms of profound respect, a respect which is only deepened by the insight into his character which these letters, owing to their more personal form, permit. This ought not, however, to blind us to the fact that his philosophical theory contains a number of serious confusions, which are all the more perplexing because of the real truths which they disfigure. In reading the first ten letters one has the feeling that they are unsatisfactory, yet they are written with such liveliness and persuasiveness of style that they are likely to pass unquestioned.

The main contention of these early letters is that religion (which is based on imagination and faith) rests upon the same foundations as all other truth, whether in knowledge or not. To the imagination in distinction from reason is ascribed the chief function in the attainment of truth. Reason is limited to the work of testing the hypotheses which imagination invents: it has a mechanical office of seeing that things go rightly, either in deduction or induction (pp. 55-57). Imagination combines the materials of experience with new results, which are held true if they are "found to work."

There are two things to remark on this doctrine. The superiority of imagination to reason seems to offer a help in solving the difficulties of religion, but the opposition is quite illusory. The author seems to have a kind of fear of reason, and to think that we cannot account for our knowledge by logic, (cf. p. 21 "this conviction which no philosopher can justify by mere logic"). Now he is quite right in believing that we do not get our knowledge by logic any more than we grow by biology; but he is quite in error if he supposes that logic does not formulate these very processes

The Kernel and the Husk, Letters on Spiritual Christianity. By the author of Philochristus and Onesimus. (London: Macmillan & Co.