The most striking feature in this case, and in others of the same class, was the absence of any shame or confusion in the people when they were found out. No coiner or burglar who has served his time could be less abashed than a Begging Letter Writer, even of comparatively short experience, when caught in some palpable lie.

The saddest instance of this came under our notice three years ago. A tradesman of good position in a provincial town became bankrupt through speculation and extravagance, and soon afterward began to suffer from illness which temporarily incapacitated him from work. His children were all grown up; one son, though married. stood by his father nobly, but the rest were rather an encumbrance to him than otherwise, and the family after tiring out their friends in their native town, drifted to London. When they came they were already ankle deep in the mire of mendicancy. There seemed hope, however, of saving them. A full statement of their difficulties and resources was obtained from Mrs. T. with the help of a lady as gentle as she was firm; but alas! when it came to the choice of a way to help, all our hopes tumbled about our ears like a pack of cards. There were children young and strong, moreover Mrs. T. was not delicate though elderly; and so our kind counsellor (herself afraid of no work that had to be done) suggested that as the head of the house was unable now to keep them all, they should turn to and keep him. This suggestion was met with expressions of extreme disfavor, and finally rejected with a cutcut ting rejoinder that one who had been brought up "a lady" would certainly not consent at her time of life to do menial work. A gift, even of trifling value, would have been acceptable, and received in a proper spirit; but such treatment as this was not to be endured.

There was no reasoning with the woman, and the T.'s went their own way. Letter after letter came into our hands, giving piteous accounts of their woes from Mr. T.'s afflictions, carefully suppressing the fact that the married son paid the rent and that two grownup daughters were now at work. One

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day a new departure was made, calling for special inquiry. "We do not ask for ourselves," the letter ran, but for a dear son going into consumption, who needs nourishment we cannot give him. We would not write at all, but for the sake of our dear boy." Now, there was one man who had believed in the T.'s and had helped them from time to time. To him we went forthwith, and seldom have we seen any one so indignant as he was when he read this letter. "That son!" he gasped. "Why the young scamp is in regular work at thirty shillings a week, with two meals a day thrown in. He told me so himself last Sunday." This was serious news, and the next step was to call upon the T.'s. We were received with melancholy dignity by Mrs. T., who was dressed as a "lady" should be in a black gown uncommonly like silk, a cap embroidered with white lace, and a light woollen wrapper thrown over her shoulders. The good matron was sitting, with her hands before her, in front of a blazing fire in a room furnished with relics of past grandeur. We drew her attention to the letter, and asked for the son. She sighed deeply, and said he had gone for a walk, also that he had earned nothing for many weeks and had not made eighteen shillings in a week for some months. We watched Mrs. T. closely all the time, impressing her with the necessity for perfect accuracy of statement. She answered nothing except to make a distant bow, as though it were a liberty to appear to doubt her least word. This was the last time we troubled ourselves with Mrs. T. with Mrs. T. Frightened at length by the thought of possible consequences, she confessed to a friend that she had said what was not true, and a few months later, "the dear son" married, and has now, we believe, a family of his own.

Such is the moral effect of writing begging letters upon people who but a year before would have rejected with scorn the notion that they could, in any circumstances, sink so low. If twelve months will do so much as this, what must the effect be of thirty years? Not long ago certain letters came into our hands so well written, so cleverly put together, aud so original, that we

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hastened at once to pay a personal visit to the writer. We will call him Mr. B. A paragraph of one of these letters ran as follows: A really sufficient change of air at the sea or otherwise (involving the company of my attendant as well as that of Mrs. B.) would cost no less than £30 to £40. If Mr. [a gentleman to whom appeal had been made] viewed the case with enough favor prima facie to say that he would try to raise that sum, or anything like it, for that purpose, among his friends subject to my laying before you formal particulars of my needs and circumstances, I may say that I feel the object is so all important that I would do that." It will be long before we forget our visit to this man. In a compact eight-room house, in a parlor bedroom furnished with a suite of good mahogany, with shelves on the walls filled with well bound books and a table at the bedside loaded with oranges, grapes, and cigars, on a bed covered with a soft quilt and sheets of the finest texture, lay the writer of this and countless other appeals. An aristocrat of the profession evidently! He was an old man with snowy hair, broad shoulders, and the reddest face conceivable; a very clever face, with fiery eyes, a hooked nose, and a coarse, hard mouth. He wore a black velvet smoking-cap and a handsome shawl of Scotch plaid was thrown round him, for he sat up in bed in honour of our visit. Indeed, look where we might, there was no sign of poverty visible anywhere.

His polite and stately condescension was so embarrassing that for some time we were glad to let him talk on and gather our scattered wits together. Allow me to thank you, my dear sir, for your kind visit," he began. "Are you surprised to find me decently clothed and fed? No doubt you are; and a little indignant perhaps. I don't blame you; it is a very natural feeling. Working as you do among the lower orders it must be quite a shock to be confronted with one of your own class reduced by circumstances to appeal to the charitable public."

He then proceeded, with admirable ingenuity and clearness, to explain that he had suffered from serious physical defects all his life; that of late years

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his health had altered much for the worse, and though he still held a situation of which he made an income sufficient to procure the bare necessaries of life, he was obliged to throw himself upon the charity of the benevolent for the luxuries, or I may say, necessary comforts which my health and unfortunate position require." This good man had seen fit to marry in spite of his "affliction," and had a son and daughter. By careful questions I learned that the son, a clerk at £150 a year, had left home suddenly, and married against his father's wish, while the wife and daughter, two gaunt, halfstarved, overworked creatures, still remained at home.

We talked together a long time, and by degrees the story of this man's life became plain, and was confirmed by subsequent inquiry. He was a man of capacity and education, and able when he chose to be a valuable servant to the firm who still employed him. But he was without principle or feeling. The ill-health he suffered from was dyspepsia, contracted by systematic over-eating and drinking. He thought of no one but himself, and cared for nothing. but his own comfort. He had an income amply sufficient for his wants, but through making the discovery that well-worded begging letters could be relied upon to bring in some return, he became shamefully extravagant, and latterly had been falling into debt and difficulties. The most repulsive feature of the case was his treatment of his wife and daughter. They had coarse food, while he lived on all the dainties of the season; their rooms were as poor as those of the commonest servant, while his were as comfortable as they could be made. As to the son, he was now his father's bitterest enemy.

From such a case as this it is instructive to turn to that of a widow who was saved by the prompt action of two ladies from the degradation which, as we have shown, the writing of begging letters brings upon its followers. This woman was well educated and refined. now earning an independent livelihood, and is beyond all fear of mendicancy. Yet once, being in serious trouble, she sent off a letter to a stranger, and it is believed by her friends that had re

She is

sponse been made in money to this appeal, which was quite genuine, she would have been ruined for life. Afterward, the friend who saved her asked what had put it into her head to do such a thing. Her reply was a significant one. She had seen a curate writing appeals broadcast for a church, and, in the desperation of the crisis of her affairs, feeling, she said, that she needed the aid infinitely more than he did, she followed his example and wrote for herself.

This story carries a forcible moral with it, which may be applied to many descriptions of charitable appeal. The ease with which perfectly conscientious and well-meaning persons can slide into exaggerated statements, and even into absolute falsehood, when they once begin to ask for help, however good the object may be, from people not acquainted with the facts of the case, shows how demoralizing the effect must be upon those who are writing for themselves.

There is in truth far too much begging going on among "cnaritable' cnaritable" people. The following instance, with which we will close our article, occurred in the working of a society renowned for its opposition to mendicancy in every shape and form.

A young girl had been apprenticed to a business, and for two years required maintenance and careful supervision. There were two ladies actively interested in this good work. One was visiting the girl, the other arranging the financial part of the business. It

so happened, however, that the visitor was asked at a moment's notice to write to a gentleman for assistance who had expressed his willingness to help any case of this kind. A report was sent, very brief and to the point, for the visitor was not versed in the arts of "charitable appeal." A reply came by return of post with a check for the sum required. But the donor said he was confused between the letter he now answered and another he had just received from the other lady. This lady was a mistress of the art; it was said that for any deserving object she could obtain £40 within three days, so potent was her pen. Yet she was as honorable a woman in the ordinary dealings of life as you could meet with. Such, however, is the fatal influence which begging exerts upon its votaries that in explaining the case of this girl, who had a worthless father, she asked for help on the ground that it would assist a poor orphan to establish herself in the world.' No wonder the man appealed to was puzzled, for the lady who first wrote to him had distinctly mentioned the existence of this parent. When the lady of too lively an imagination was taxed with her inaccuracy she coolly replied: "It was unlucky that he should hear two different accounts. You ought to have asked me what you were to say. The word orphan, I think, always has a good effect, and as this father of hers cannot perform a father's part, why, really, we may call her an orphan, after all !”—Macmillan's Magazine.

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"

the mornings, the limit of his composition being about twelve hundred words. This manuscript is then copied by his daughter for the publisher. In the afternoon the novelist studies and translates from the classics.

"SELF-HELP" has been translated into every European language, including Czech, Croatian, and Turkish, and also into Japanese. In England alone about 180,000 copies of the book have been sold. Dr. Smiles, having finished his own memoirs, is now busy writing a life of the potter Wedgwood.

THE London Athenæum, summing up the English literature of 1893, remarks that the year has been "given over almost entirely to the younger writers, who have discovered one another throughout its course with unanimous and touching enthusiasm. The older men have been silent, while the juniors bave enjoyed the distinction of limited editions and the luxury of large sales."

MRS. BISHOP (Miss Isabella Bird), though more than sixty years of age, is off again in search of new materials for another book of travels. She has left Liverpool for Corea.

NOTWITHSTANDING all rumors to the contrary Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes has definitely decided that he will not give his memoirs to the public during his lifetime. In a recent conversation Dr. Holmes remarked: "I work at the memoirs an hour or two each day, and am making satisfactory progress. That is, I have about one half completed of all I shall write. Then I shall place the manuscript in the hands of my publishers, and they will keep it in their safe until I shall have passed away. My belief has always been that a man's memoirs should be distinctly posthumous, and I shall carry out that belief in my own case."

THE most popular works of fiction, as determined by the demand for them in all the libraries of the United States are: (1) “ David Copperfield," (2) "Ivanhoe," (3) "The Scarlet Letter," (4) "Uncle Tom's Cabin," (5) "Ben Hur," (6) " Adam Bede," (7) "Vanity

Fair." Miss Alcott's" Little Women" stands

twelfth on the list, and "Little Lord Fauntleroy" is thirteenth,

CAMILLE DOUCET, the Perpetual Secretary of the French Academy of Sciences, has had to make the mortifying announcement that no poem worthy of the name was sent in on "Africa Opened Up," which was the subject selected for this year's competition for the

prize for poetry granted by the State. The prize, therefore, amounting to between one hundred and two hundred pounds, will not be awarded.

WALTER BESANT's new novel is to be called "The Inquest of Ages." It is a story of modern English life.

THE NEW HAWARDEN LIBRARY.-Mr. Gladstone's Hawarden library, consisting of over twenty-four thousand volumes, is called "St. Deiniol's Theological and General Library," and is placed in an iron building constructed expressly for it. A circular just issued by the ex-Premier declares it ready for the use of

students, lay and clerical, of any age, of inquirers, and of clergy or others desiring times of rest;" but Mr. Gladstone does not desire the visits to it of mere sightseers. Another interesting feature, says The Outlook, is the expectation that students will reside in the hostelry adjoining, which is under the library control and a part of it, where for a low charge comfortable and quiet board and lodging may be obtained.

us.

MISCELLANY.

MUSIC AS A MEDICINE.-The soothing and calming influence of Music is known to all of How often, when oppressed by care and anxiety, have we found oblivion and rest in the sweet strains of violin or voice! Yet, till recently, no attempts had been made in our day to utilize this power of music in the domain of curative medicine. If, however, we can judge from poets and historians, the power of music was well known and much employed among the ancients. There is evidence that Galen, the father of medicine, employed such music as was known in his day for its healing power. Shakespeare, in " King Lear," shows a physician restoring the king from his madness by lulling him to sleep to the sound of soft music. Nor does the doctor doubt that his remedy will succeed. "When we do awake him," he says, his temperance. Please you to draw near. Louder the music there." And King Lear

46 I doubt not of

gradually awakes, in his sound mind, and rec

ognizes his daughter Cordelia. So, too, in Holy Writ we have David playing before Saul when the evil spirit was upon him. Many other references from the old writers might be given to this soothing effect of music.

Not till the last two or three years, however, has an attempt been made to bring music

within the range of practical therapeutics, and to test its effects by systematic clinical investigation. This fact has been taken in hand by the Guild of St. Cecilia, under the energetic and discriminating direction of Canon Harford of Westminster. The objects which this Guild sets before itself are (1) To test by trials made in a large number of cases of illness the power of soft music to induce calmness of mind, alleviation of pain, and sleep. (2) To provide a large number of musicians specially trained to sing and play the very soft music which alone should be administered to those whose nerves are weakened by illness. These musicians should be ready promptly to answer the summons of a physician. (3) To hire or build in a central part of London a large hall, in which music shall be given throughout all hours of the day and night. This music to be conveyed by telephone attached to certain wards in each of the chief London hospitals. (4) To obtain opinions and advice about the classes of illness in which music is likely to be most beneficial; and to collect and record all reliable accounts respecting permanent benefit that has followed the use of music.

Nor has the work of the Guild been limited to setting forth this comprehensive programme. Already the society has made a considerable number of trials; and Canon Harford has recorded their results in the medical journals. As a type of these results, we may quote Canon Harford's account of a visit to the London Temperance Hospital and the St Pancras Infirmary: "The choir of the Guild-comprising three vocalists, soprano, contralto, and baritone, and three instrumentalists, first and second violins and harpvisited the hospitals above mentioned. Several of the patients appeared to be suffering much, notably one whose leg had been crushed on the railway; another afflicted by dropsy; and two who were shedding tears from great nervous depression. The music lasted half an hour; and when it was over, inquiry was made of the patients. One and all said that it soothed them, the patient who suffered from dropsy remarking that the pain had kept off while the music was being played, and returned when it ceased."

At the St. Pancras Infirmary there was a female patient suffering from melancholia, to whom they played a lullaby. After the performance, she told a nurse that she liked it very much. "On this, the Superintendent came up to me and said: 'This is the first

time she has spoken for a fortnight.' Shortly afterward, a male patient suffering from delirium tremens was brought into the ward. On hearing the first notes of the music, he became quite calm and attentive, though his attendant had been half afraid to bring him on account of outbreaks of violence."

The following day, Canon Harford returned to the Hospital, and found the three worst cases very much brighter; and they spoke with gratitude and very warmly of the benefit derived from soft music.

Results like these have since been frequently obtained by the Guild, and they are certainly most encouraging. They are all, it will be seen, in the direction of distracting the mind from pain, and soothing mental irritation. In order to test the hypnotic effect of soft music, the Guild made the experiment of playing lullabies to a ward of fourteen patients, along with Dr. Collins, one of the phy. sicians to the Hospital. In spite of distracting noises-unhappily inseparable from the ward of a London Hospital-they got the following results: Dr. Collins "found it an effort to keep awake;" four patients were actually sent to sleep; some liked it too well to sleep ;" and others felt sad, but delighted."

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Canon Harford draws a distinction between the class of music which should be given to alleviate pain and to produce sleep. In the latter case the music should be, of course, very soft and monotonous. There should be a constant repetition of similar phrases, and no striking or unexpected effects should be allowed. To distract the mind from painmental or physical-the music should be of a more attractive order, but still soft. Whether in all cases soft music is better as a medicine than lively and exhilarating airs, has not yet been clearly determined. Probably it varies with each particular case; but, at any rate, with soft music one does not run the risk of injuriously exciting the patient, which might possibly be done by music of a lively character. The softness must be extreme. Canon Harford remarks on the difficulty of getting singers who can sing very piano, and proposes to have them trained with this particular object in view.

That musical sounds do produce a marked effect on the system has been proved by physiological experiments on men and animals. The rate of action of the heart and the force of the circulation are notably influenced in a direction depending on the pitch, inten