result of conventionalism a man is admired for using language of the utmost clearness and force in literature, whilst if he talked as vigorously as he wrote (except, perhaps, in extreme privacy and even secrecy with one or two confidential companions) he would be looked upon as scarcely civilised. This may be one of the reasons why English literature, including the periodical, is so abundant in quantity and so full of energy. It is a mental outlet, a dérivatif.

I

The kind of untruthfulness which may be called untruthfulness by inadequacy causes many strong and earnest minds to keep aloof from general society which seems to them insipid. They find frank and clear expression in books, they find it even in newspapers and reviews, but they do not find it in social intercourse. This deficiency drives many of the more intelligent of our countrymen into the strange and perfectly unnatural position of receiving ideas almost exclusively through the medium of print, and of communicating them only by writing. remember an Englishman of great learning and ability who lived almost entirely in that manner. He received his ideas through books and the learned journals, and whenever any thought occurred to him he wrote it immediately on a slip of paper. In society he was extremely absent, and when he spoke it was in an apologetic and timidly suggestive manner, as if he were always afraid that what he had to say might not be interesting to the hearer, or might even appear objectionable, and as if he were quite ready to withdraw it. He was far too anxious to be well behaved ever to venture on any forcible expression of opinion or to utter any noble sentiment, and yet his convictions on all important subjects were very

serious, and had been arrived at after deep thought, and he was capable of real elevation of mind. His writings are the strongest possible contrast to his oral expression of himself. They are bold in opinion, very clear and decided in statement, and full of well-ascertained

knowledge.

Q

ESSAY XVII.

ON A REMARKABLE ENGLISH PECULIARITY.

IN De Tocqueville's admirable book on Democracy in America there is an interesting chapter on the behaviour of Englishmen to each other when they meet in a foreign country.

"Two Englishmen meet by chance at the antipodes ; they are surrounded by foreigners whose language and mode of life are hardly known to them.

"These two men begin by studying each other very curiously, and with a kind of secret uneasiness; they then turn away, or, if they meet, they are careful to speak only with a constrained and absent air, and to say things. of little importance.

"And yet they know nothing of each other; they have never met, and suppose each other to be perfectly honourable. Why, then, do they take such pains to avoid intercourse ?"

De Tocqueville was a very close observer, and I hardly know a single instance in which his faculty of observation shows itself in greater perfection. In his terse style of writing every word tells, and even in my translation, unavoidably inferior to the original, you actually see the two Englishmen and the minute details of their behaviour,

Let me now introduce the reader to a little scene at a foreign table d'hôte, as described with great skill and truth by a well-known English novelist, Miss BethamEdwards.

"The time, September; the scene, a table d'hôte dinner in a much-frequented French town. For the most part nothing can be more prosaic than these daily assemblies of English tourists bound for Switzerland and the south, and a slight sprinkling of foreigners, the two elements seldom or never blending; a visitant from another planet might, indeed, suppose that between English- and French-speaking people lay such a gulf as divides the blond New Englander from the swarth African, so icy the distance, so unbroken the reserve. Nor is there anything like cordiality between the English themselves. Our imaginary visitant from Jupiter would here find matter for wonder also, and would ask himself the reason of this freezing reticence among the English fellowship. What deadly feud of blood, caste, or religion could thus keep them apart? Whilst the little knot of Gallic travellers at the farther end of the table straightway fall into friendliest talk, the long rows of Britons of both sexes and all ages speak only in subdued voices, and to the members of their own family."

Next, let me give an account of a personal experience in a Parisian hotel. It was a little unpretending establishment that I liked for its quiet and for the honest cookery. There was a table d'hôte, frequented by a few French people, generally from the provinces, and once there came some English visitors who had found out the merits of the little place. It happened that I had been on the continent a long time without revisiting England,

so when my fellow-countrymen arrived I had foolish feelings of pleasure on finding myself amongst them, and spoke to them in our common English tongue. The effect of this bold experiment was extremely curious, and to me, at the time, almost inexplicable, as I had forgotten that chapter by De Tocqueville. The new-comers were two or three young men and one in middle life. The young men seemed to be reserved more from timidity than pride. They were quite startled and frightened when spoken to, and made answer with grave brevity, as if apprehensive of committing themselves to some compromising statement. With an audacity acquired by habits of intercourse with foreigners I spoke to the older Englishman. His way of putting me down would have been a charming study for a novelist. His manner

resembled nothing so much as that of a dignified English Minister Mr. Gladstone, for example-when he is questioned in the House by some young and presumptuous member of the Opposition. A few brief words were vouchsafed to me, accompanied by an expression of countenance which, if not positively stern, was intentionally divested of everything like interest or sympathy. It then began to dawn upon me that perhaps this Englishman was conscious of some august social superiority, that he might even know a lord, and I thought, "If he does really know a lord, we are very likely to hear his lordship's name." My expectation was not fulfilled to the letter, but it was quite fulfilled in spirit, for in talking to a Frenchman (for me to hear) our Englishman shortly boasted that he knew an English duchess, giving her name and place of abode. "One day when I was at House, I said to the Duchess of ," and he