deed been provided in some of them, though perhaps they are not utilized as systematically and generally as they might be. Clearness and precision of thought, besides some vulgar usefulness, would flow from a brief apprenticeship served in them during the course of the longer apprenticeship to letters, and it would be a preservative to mental health, to studious brain-workers, and harrassed business-men all their days, to have an interesting mechanical occupation to which to turn. In central elementary schools, like those in Manchester, Sheffield, and Birmingham, into which are gathered the more promising and advanced pupils from the ordinary elementary schools of the town or city, to be trained as managers, foremen, workmen of a superior class, or for even higher walks in life, and in which the period of elementary education is prolonged, workshops should certainly be established, so that the hand centres may not lie fallow too long. Such manual schools, attached to higher elementary schools, even although they may not shorten the subsequent apprenticeship, still do valuable work; but I question much whether success can attend the attempt to annex such schools to ordinary Board or denominational schools. The fact is that elementary schools, with the Code hanging over them and crippled by the system of payment by results, have already quite enough to do. The withdrawal of scholars for two or three hours a week, for manual instruction, from the obligatory school work, while the requirements of examiners remained the same, could only lead to increased overpressure. The expense and practical difficulty also of providing tools, material, and instruction at a large number of schools must always stand in the way of the multiplication of school workshops. The attempt to provide such workshops in connection with two Board Schools in Manchester has proved a failure, and when I visited these workshops three years ago they were abandoned to dust and dilapidation, containing only some warped benches, impossible lathes, broken tools, and very uncouth specimens of carpentry. The manual training in our elementary schools, and during elementary education ages, which is, as it has been argued, of such high con

sequence to the industrial future of the country, which is, by stimulating growth in the hand centres in the brain when they are in their most mobile and ductile and active state, to preserve our national skill, and brace the sinews of the national character, is, I believe, to be most read. ily and effectually obtained in drawing and modelling. These should be an obligatory part of school work, and should be taught only by those who have a knowledge of them, and have been trained in the art of teaching them. Living as we have done, at any rate in the industrial hives of England, in the midst of much ugliness, and destitute of the art traditions and art treasures of some continental countries, we have hitherto neglected art education, and have been content that drawing should be taught by making shaky copies of hideous lithographs of landscapes and cottages, in which cottages, in which "a decent straight line would," it has been said," be regarded as a blemish and unpicturesque.' But we are awakening to a better sense of the value of drawing as a branch of education, and as the best preliminary education for the hand. We are learning that drawing when taught badly is mischievous and a waste of time, but when taught truly is conducive to accuracy of observation, to reasoning from effect to cause, to habits of neatness, to the love of the beautiful and true, and to that hand-skill which it is of such vital consequence to us to retain. By some mitigation of the demands of inspectors in compulsory and class subjects, and by some re-arrangement of our school curriculum, time must be found for the thorough and methodical teaching of drawing, which in infant schools should occupy one half the school time, and in elementary schools hold a more prominent and honored place than it has heretofore done. Drawing and modelling, it appears to me, offer the true universal training of the hand, the best exercise for the hand centres in the brain, and the most suitable introduction to the handicrafts which the great bulk of our people must follow for a living. Now that the age at which manual occupations are begun has been raised, and properly raised, in order that elementary education may be secured, drawing and modelling have

assumed a new importance as branches of education. The time to begin the training of the hand is in the infant school, and not after passing the sixth standard.

In those admirable technical schools which are springing up in our large towns, to serve as connecting links between the elementary school and the workshop, and in which the foremen, managers, and the most skilled artisans of the future will, in all probability, receive some part of their training, instruction in drawing, and more especially in drawing with rule and compass, will, in conjunction with instruction in the rudiments of science bearing upon industry, take an exalted position. The organization of these schools at present leaves little to be desired, and the work which they are already accomplishing is of conspicuous value; but here, again, we must guard ourselves against expect ing too much from them, and against extending unduly the time spent in them, remembering that the workshop is still, and ever must be, the best school for the foreman, and that downright experience is the choicest training for the practical man. "The training of the shop," said Mr. Reynolds, the founder and able and energetic superintendent of the Technical School at Manchester, in an interview which I had with him a

short time ago, is, and always must be, superior to that of any technical or manual school. It is carried on under a sense of responsibility, and with a consciousness that penalties attach to failure in it, and, above all, it is real and earnest." Mr. Reynolds' remarks recalled to me the old story of the amateur angler who went to fish in a Scotch stream, provided with the finest rod and reel that money could buy, the most invisible tackle, and the most improved fly-hooks, and who, having flogged the water for hours without getting a nibble, had the mortification of seeing an old fisherman near him pull out the trout by dozens, with nothing but a bit of stick and a string. Puzzled and disappointed, he at last went up to the old man and asked him, What is the meaning of this? How comes it that I, with the most perfect appliances, catch nothing, while you, with only the clumsiest tools, are so successful?" To which the old man answered : "The meaning o't, Sir, I tak' to be this, that I'm fishin' for fish, and ye're fishin' for fun.” The story seems to me to illustrate the difference which must, to some extent, exist between technical school and workshop training, and to explain the greater intensity of purpose and better practical results which must attend the latter.National Review.

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Sir Roger de Coverley"; of bright faces and graceful forms; and in one little moment all the present slips from us, and the past usurps its place, and sets the world's clock back by close on half a century.

The writing of the letter is minute and particular, even as the author's mind moved in a similar groove, and his genius, while it delighted in tragic, heroic, or pathetic incident, never despised the smallest minutiae or infinitesimal detail.

This is how the little note runs :

In

Hall, Thursday morn, Aug. 24. like "time and tide wait for no man. My dear Stevens,-Parties (ladies' is meant) despite of the weather there will be a fiddle in motion here, this evening, and I trust you, Yours very truly, J. FENIMORE Cooper.

too.

Brigadier Stevens.

Forty years and more have passed since this invitation issued from the great author's hands, and yet how

closely we of to-day seem linked with the novelist who has been dead for a generation! Only a short time ago his sister Charlotte died in the fulness of years at the old historic mansion that bears his name in New York State, and with her death memory steps backward for a brief moment, and conjures up the historical personages that moulded in some degree her destiny. How many of those who look upon her quiet grave in the churchyard at Cooperstown, with its modest stone and inscription "Anne Charlotte Fenimore Cooper, daughter of James Fenimore Cooper, born May 14, 1817, died March 22, 1885. Blessed be God"-will remember her as the "little Sister Anne" of whom Fenimore Cooper speaks so pleasantly, or give one thought to the hidden sorrow of her life? She died as she had lived; faithful to the one love of her girlhood-Talleyrand.

Fenimore Cooper passed much of his time in Albany, the capital city of the State of New York; in those days of the old Code," the Chancellor's Court and the Court for Correction of Errors were held in different cities according as the State Legislature appointed, and the causes were tried in the Legislative Chamber before the deputies to the Senate, who listened with due dignity to the rhetoric and forensic skill of the ablest jurists of the day. The new Code has done away with this custom; the Chancellor's Court has become a tradition only, and the Court of Errors is submerged into the Supreme Court and Court of Appeals at Washington; but in those old days "Court" was more often held in Albany than any other city, and, in consequence, the quaint old Dutch town, built on the beautiful Hudson, could boast a more than ordinary learned and cultivated society. Men whose names have more than a local reputation-Henry Clay, Daniel Webster, his friend Samuel Stevens, Chancellor Walworth, the last to hold that office-were often heard within the old Capitol's walls. Here, then, Fenimore Cooper delighted to abide and to gather about him, in true old-fashioned hospitality, the young and the merry, the aged and the grave, until, like Cooperstown Hall, his city home rang again to the echo of light laughter and happy jest.

In no city of the United States were old customs and habits so long retained or so genuinely honored as in Albany. The dead Dutch ancestors who had founded the pretty town all up and down the steep hills-whose substantial mansions built of Flemish brick and tile stood somewhat back from the pavement, built also of brick laid in zigzag pattern, were shaded by tall trees of elm and oak, maple and beech, remnants of the once virgin forest that bordered the wild beautiful river, where the “redman” shot up and down in his light canoe, or crept from trail to trail that stretched across the forest and connected Lake Ontario with Lake Erie-had also left another legacy to their descendants; indomitable pride and indomitable perseverance, not to say obstinacy. For any one who scorned to tread in the footsteps of his progenitors, or drew back from a rigid observance of all the old Knickerbocker traditions and customs, there was but one judgment-like St. Paul they hesitated not in passing sentence, Let him be anathema." Thus year by year passed on, and little or no change crept among the sober, dignified, haughty members of society who formed the exclusive circle into which no stranger was admitted unawares.

Among all the old customs none held a higher place in all hearts than the annual Corn Party given by old Colonel Van Brocken, at his fine residence, standing a little without the city's limits, and surrounded by his own grain-fields, fruit-orchards, and gardens. The house was built of the inevitable red brick, brought from Holland in one of the Colonel's grandsire's ships; mellow and warm and soft to the eye by all the years of sun that had shone on it and rain that had fallen on it. Over the wide casements the sweet-briar climbed, and nodded its tiny rose-flower in at the open windows; a broad veranda stretched across the front of the house, made of wood and most cunningly carved along the bottom railing and at the top of the sloping roof in fleurs de lys and stiff open leaf patterns. Here a Virginia creeper made a bower of green in summer-time and a wreath of flame in autumn, when the first frost caught it still green, and changed it, as by magic, into a garland of glowing reds and yellows; and here

at all seasons of the year, save midwinter, were to be found the rocking-chairs of many generations, from the patriarchal grandfather of "Shaker'' build to the tiny twisted willow-work affair, too small for any one save "baby." The door stood open wide always, and the hearty welcome thus assured on first approach was amply carried out by the genial owner. Below, some little distance, lay the river, and further yet the masts of river sloops and luggers, with smaller craft of dingy and flat-boat, shot up between the trees that bordered the steep banks.

These particular festivities crowned the successful harvest of the Indian corn, which forms a large staple in the farmer's cereals. Those who have never seen the corn growing and who have never partaken of its succulent fruit when rightly cooked and served can scarcely appreciate the beauty of the one or the excellence of the other. Grown in large ploughed fields and sown in the spring the Indian corn by midsummer is at its prime. It grows from six to ten feet in height, each strong central stalk supporting two or three " ears' of fruit, that spring from it at a very slight angle; these are closely folded in dark green sheaths, that protect the young unformed kernels from climatic changes; long narrow green leaves fall gracefully from the quivering pointed tip, where gather the seed-flowers, to the bottom of the parent stalk. As the fruit ripens the green sheaths open bit by bit, and the "cob, covered with round pearly-white grains, peeps forth; then from the top of each sheath droop fine tiny tendrils, as soft as silk and variegated in color from pale yellow to blue-purple; these tendrils form a sort of tassel that bends and bows and waves in the slightest breeze, adding a charming changeful sheen to the dark-green leaves and stalk.

Looking across a cornfield in full perfection, with a summer sky overhead and a south wind ruffling the silken tassels and singing through the graceful leaves, is like a glimpse of a tropical inland sea touched to life and color by the reflection of roseate sunset clouds.

With the end of summer comes the harvesting and garnering of the coarser corn, which is used for the cattle and made into an ordinary flour used by the

farmers in the winter; the better sort, or sweet corn, that which forms so important an item in a good housewife's cuisine, passes with the summer, like other good fruits of the season.

The harvesting or "huskin" of the corn, which occurs some time in October, is one of the most popular festivals of the year. The stalks are cut in full fruit and stacked in the fields to mature, after which they are carried into a large barn, where all the lads and lasses of the neighborhood are already assembled ; here they strip the ears from the parent stem, and, removing the outer sheaths, cast the ear into open bins, to be further selected and shucked" before it is finally garnered. Several days are occupied in this way, and many are the jests and merry the laughter that flies from lip to lip or echoes through the open rafters, while dexterous fingers tear apart the sheaths and bright eyes look expectantly at each concealed cob as it comes to light; for in every well-conducted "huskins" there should be found one red ear of corn, and he or she who is the happy discoverer of this desired trophy is made king or queen of the revels that follow, and for a brief halfhour tastes all the sweets and none of the bitters of sovereignty. When all the ears are stripped and lie heaped together in open bins, and the red ear has been proclaimed, a procession is formed, headed by the farmer and his wife, who walk in triumph followed by all their hands, leading the victorious maid carrying her patent of royalty-the red ear

in her hand, from the "huskins" barn to another large granary which has been effectively decorated with green boughs and corn-ears. At one end stands the throne, and the rough plank floor has been plentifully strewn with sawdust. Here the ceremony of crowning takes place, and the subsequent enthronement. The throne is usually some treasured old chair, high-backed and so tall in the seat as to be approached only by a companion footstool or "cricket," carved very resplendently about the legs. One such chair of state," used on like occasions, is now in the Historical Society's Rooms of Connecticut; it has upon its carved oak back the arms of England, while above, forming a canopy, is the British crown elaborately enwrought.

In days of colonial rule it was the Governor's chair, from which he issued edicts and passed judgments upon the dutiful subjects of His Majesty's colony. At this ceremony all the household and invited guests of the mansion are present and yield their congratulations and homage to the queen, joining in the quadrille and country dance and paying due deference to the sovereign of the night; a supper held in the farmer's kitchen concludes the festivities of a Corn Huskins.'

But the merriment and jollity of the occasion is not confined to the farmer's home, for in the mansion gay revels hold equal sway. For a week previous gilt-edged, satin-faced notes have been flying about bidding the happy exclusives of Albany society to a Corn Party at Colonel Van Brocken's, and a very jolly company assemble at the mansion on this midsummer evening. After all the farm sports are well established, the Colonel leads the way back to the open house, where in the great hall, opening at either end on to wide verandas, supper-tables are enticingly laid out with snowy damask, old china, and heavy plate worth its weight in gold. Before the Colonel stands a "guinea'' punchbowl, and at his right hand a case containing fat square bottles, whose very shapes tell of priceless liqueurs and smuggled" spirits; on a tray are lemons, sugar, mint cut very fine, cucumber sliced on ice, cloves, and a glass jug of water. On each guest's plate lies a small napkin, spread cornerwise, tiny cruets of salt and pepper, and a small plate holding a roll of fresh butter.

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When the company are seated and a blessing has been asked, negro servants enter carrying long "platters" heaped high and covered with napkins; these are placed at regular distances, and when uncovered disclose ears of corn, white and firm and smoking hot. Each guest takes an ear, which he delicately seasons, and, raising it daintily in both hands folded in the napkin, prepares to indulge in as delicious a commodity as can well be imagined. Meantime the Colonel has brewed his punch and the glasses are filled, Champagne and lighter wines pass from hand to hand, and with the first toast to the "harvest," the Corn Party is fairly started.

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Many and varied are the courses; but the chief ingredient of each dish is the same. Corn-fritters follow the first entrée, light as a feather, delicately browned, crisp and sweet; then comes succatash," the true Indian dish, cooked by Indian recipe. To prepare this the corn has been boiled lightly and taken from the cob, not a kernel broken or injured, and placed in a sauce of milk and cream, with a little butter, pepper, and salt; to this is added an equal portion of Lima beans, a delicate bean, not known in this country, of rich and succulent flavor; this dish is served hot and is considered the pièce de résistance of the feast.

There is a story of an old Indian chief, who was once entertained at a banquet, and who sat through each course with a stolid face and imperturbable manner, not appearing in the least impressed by the varied and lavish display until a dish of succatash" was passed; he helped himself liberally, and when his empty plate was about to be removed, said, very quietly, "Yes, change the plate and I'll take some more succatash," which remark he repeated at every remaining course, and followed up by demolishing successive plates of succatash. Then follow roasted corn, corn cooked in cream, with corn-bread and corn-cakes as lighter relays.

Meantime the toasts have been given and drunk, the wine has passed and repassed, and now, at the upper end of the large hall, the musicians are already taking their places and tuning their instruments; The Colonel leads out the oldest matron, the young people pair rapidly, two long lines are quickly formed, and in another moment, to the tune of "Money-musk," Sir Roger is in full swing, graced by "pigeon-wing' and "double pigeon-wing,' cut" by the elder gallants with surprising agility, and responded to by marvellous and wonderful pirouettes and courtesies from the ladies. The negro servants gather on the veranda and look in at door or window, their black faces shining with good humor, their eyes rolling, their teeth gleaming; while now and again smothered exclamations of "Hi, Massa Col'n'l!" "Lordy, my Missie, she hab de fairy foot!" accompanied by sub