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the derived meanings have the same force in all abverbial phrases. If we, then, regard the so-called preposition as retaining its original adverbial force, the ordinary rules of syntax, with some slight modifications, will apply to the government of cases after prepositions. Let us govern the case by defining its relation under the appropriate rule, and let the particle go with the verb where it belongs. If this be proper in adverbial phrases, it is no less correct for adnominal phrases. Adverbs are, very commonly, modifiers of nouns, regularly so in the Greek language, and to some extent in Latin and English. Let us still govern the case by defining its relations, and let the particle, go with the governing substantive. But, if it is preferred to accept the common view of prepositions and regard them as simply relation words, more exactly defining the meaning of the cases, the same method will apply, and we may govern the case and parse the preposition as a connective. rules with their modifications are as follows, viz.:

1. The accusative is the case or direct object.


2. The accusative is used after words implying motion or direction. 3. Time, how long, and distance, how far, are in the accusative. 4. The accusative is used adverbially or for specification.

5. The ablative is used of cause, manner, means, or instrument, quality, specification, and price.

6. The voluntary agent after passive verbs is the ablative with ab. 7. The person by whom, as means of instrument, is in the accusative with per.

8. Words denoting source or separation, are followed by the ablative. 9. Cause is often expressed by the accusative, with ob. or propter.

I take the following examples of the different prepositions, with cases, in the first one hundred lines of the first book of the Æneid.

1st line. "Arma virumque cano Trojac qui primus ab oris." Oris, abl. source or separation.

4th line. "Vi superum saevae memorem Iunonis ob iram." Iran, acc. of cause.

13th line. "6 Karthago, Italiam contra." Italiam, acc. of direction. 19th line. "Progeniem sedenim Trojam a sauguine duci." Sauguine, abl. source or separation.

24th line. "Prima quod ad Trojam pro caris gesserat Argis." Trojam, acc. of motion or direction, Argis, abl. of cause.

29th line. "His accensa super jactatos aequore toto." Aequore, ablative of place.

31st line. "Multosque per annos." Annos, accusative of time, how long.

32d line. "Maria omnia circum." Maria, accusative of motion or direction.

34th line. "Vix e conspectu." Conspectu, ablative source or separa


36th line. "Servans sub pectore vulnus." Pectore, ablative place. 47th line. "Una cum gente tot annos." Gente, ablative accompani


51st line. "Nimborum in patriam." Patriam, accusative of motion or direction.

89th line. "Teucrorum ex oculis." Ablative of separation.

In conclusion, the one point I wish to urge is this: That we give the full syntax of the case, by exactly defining the relation giving the particle its original force as a modifier of the preceding verb or substantive, or using it as a mere connective, more exactly defining, and to say that the case requires the preposition rather than that the preposition governs the case.



By Professor JOHN JAMES LEWIS, A. M., Madison University.

He who is lord of the oceans of resources implied in broad culture, mental, æsthetic, religious; who, by it, is self-poised, calm, courteous to deference; who is positive but under control, intense but knowing no hurry, never cold and never contemptuous; is of the consummate flowering of the race, in its present intellectual or spiritual phases.

That, in effect, is the idea of culture to be suggested in this paper. It is not stated as a definition. It is not claimed to be the best view or idea. Culture is a resultant of forces. These may be mental, physical, developed, and inherited. We do not purpose to limit the term to any of its phases or factors. It refers to a reverent and helpful nature, rather than to the nature of man as a thinking machine, or as an intellectual iceberg like John Stuart Mill.

Fair, indeed, is the lofty mountain whose sky-piercing wedge uplifts above the cumulus, and stands all the day, rosy and glacial, against the sun. But far up in that awful altitude is eternal solitude. The kingliest spirit must not only tower into high, keen air, but also must arrest and detain subtle and fleeting forces, and distribute, from a loftier and ampler nature, the streams which may be gladsome and life-bestowing to the dwellers of the plains. However eminent, a man may yet be the more conspicuous figure of an intense isolation, shining and icy, but lonely in solitude and glacial as death. Socrates and Jesus were Himalayas among men, but they drew men up to themselves. A needless result of culture is isolation.

Culture has been defined as a fruit of study; so it is, in a mathematCulture, as knowledge, the knowledge gained from books, is not what I mean. I mean character, as affected by the results of study, observation, reflection, and by the deliberate choice of whatever is noble and helpful. I mean the evolution of virile character in the selection of the best. I mean, too, the possession of the aesthetic nature, whether trained and developed, or rudimentary.

Culture implies potentiality and possession as "fruits;" but not less it implies hunger and endeavor, powers not satisfied with fruits. It is the ornament of a clear brain, and it gives dignity to a kind heart. is positive, but reverent; it is chastened in manners and voice.


Culture is breadth; not breadth negatively, nor by generals, but breadth of understanding and learning; breadth of sensibility and artistic feeling; breadth, both of aspiration and endeavor of deference and charity.

Not long after college days, I had an occasion for calling upon a gentleman in Brooklyn, a man of culture and of eminent social position. With me was the usual amount of boyish fever and self-consciousness. With him were quiet courtesy, and self-possession. Often recurs to memory that quiet room and that quiet man. The few ornaments of the room were elegant, but there was no display. Nothing of the bear or lion was in the man's manner; he made no show of superiority; he talked with me quietly, slowly, and just as he would have done, probably, had I been the prince of social Wales. One would suppose he had been well-born, as well as well-bred; for, early advantages,

a kindly home, pleasant voices heard in childhood, are worth much to a boy; worth much to American youth, who are, too often, self-assertive, unduly independent and familiar, mistaking boldness for courage, and impudence for self-possession. A kindly voice and a kindly eye, at home, will do more for a boy than a district school. Blood will tell. Good blood in the veins is worth much. Family traits are an inheritance. The boy who starts out in life under wholesome home encouragement has an advantage. Many a boy never heard a word of encouragement at home, where it was most needed, and was almost startled by the unlooked-for commendation of some stranger. Home life often leaves its stamp in either boorishness or gentility. Boorishness, or rude strength, is not, certainly, real force.

The gentleman, of whom I have spoken, had force; it was conscious force; it was force under high culture; it was force in reserve, repressed, chastened. The usual excess of life's flowering and pompous display had been pruned to symmetry of development, and chastened to the perfection of life's fruitage. He was a man to whom great trusts were committed. He was a patron and supporter of schools.

His name stood for integrity and power. He was a man to merit "The grand old name of gentleman."

Another man has lately taken a large share of public attention. He is a man of vast energy and self-assertion; a man of great abilities, unscrupulous and scheming. When he was elected member of the House for a short term, he suddenly overshadowed and dwarfed all of his own party. He was everywhere at once. He stormed during the session. He out-talked the noisiest. Men stopped speaking when he came nigh, or when he began to speak. When he walked, he filled the passage-ways; his very presence filled hall or ante-room. Wherever he was, there was nothing else. Justice lifted her bandage to look at him, and tilted one scale! He could sit for the picture of Dickens' Mr. Stryver-the prototype of Dr. Keneally. Says Mr. Dickens: "Mr. Stryver, a man of little more than thirty, but looking twenty years older than he was, stout, loud, red, bluff, and free from any drawback of delicacy, had a pushing way of shouldering himself, morally and physically, into companies and conversations, that augured well for his shouldering his way up in life.”

There are plenty of Mr. Stryvers and David Dudley Fields-plenty of them. "Woods is full of 'em." With all the advantages and disadvantages of positive natures, they rarely fail of becoming conspicuous. They domineer; they succumb before the moral laws only. No man transgresses the moral laws without recompense, soon or late.

I have placed before you the pictures of two men. The one is of that imperious nature, which in the ages expresses itself in law, politics, religion, statecraft, and war, and is, according to time and circumstances, the absolutist, the despot, the conqueror, the reformer.-Bismarck or Luther, Julius II. or Cromwell, Lord Chief Justice Jeffrey, Cotton Mather, Brougham, or David Dudley Field.

The other is of a nature not less positive, but combines with ardent conviction the last results of culture of mind, person, and even voice. It is Monseigneur Capell, Edward Everett, Channing, Goethe, Raleigh, Abelard or Pericles. Add brilliancy, it is Macaulay; add ambition, it is Benjamin Disraeli or Aaron Burr; add an heroic purpose, it is Charles Kingsley or Charles Sumner.

I have spoken of but two classes of eminent men. to combine. If you were to choose either, which?

I have not tried

Most men's ideals are either indefinite or variable. As a man's ideal, so is he. As a man wills-wills definitely, powerfully, and eternally, so will he be.

Some of you stand on the rim of college or academic days, and another horizon opens. Hills of difficulty and vales of humiliation before you, gentlemen. Fortunate what one among you escapes four or five years of prolonged pain. You may not know such four or five years. Selfishness, the usual selfishness of the scholar, may not let you know them; stoicism may repel them; a stout heart will surmount them; culture will wring profit out of them. Blessed be the hope and enthusiasm of youth!

Culture you have gained. It may not be that which is based on experience; nor, perhaps, is it that calmness and self-mastery which age and discipline of life bring to some. It may not be that which comes by advantage of birth, together with the inheritance of culture. Perhaps, culture is now crude, and is a beginning-as youth is crude, and is a beginning.

Will you have culture broader, finer? You will gain greater knowledge-the fruits of study; will you gain culture?

In the deliberate endeavor to secure it, one becomes aware of limitations on every side. The first limitation I pick out is,

The number of years already past.

The story of life is usually told by the fortieth year. The possibilities in a man are commonly evident by that time. "But seventy years allotted to the best," and, not middle age, but youth, is the seed-time of life. Later honors come, and I am almost ready to except from my assertion the inventor and the college graduate. But, what fire and force are in a man, have usually given clear evidence before his fortieth year; often before his thirtieth.

The reputation of a thousand Englishmen was national before they were forty. Burns died at 37; Byron at 36; Shelley at 29; Keats at 25. Byron and Dickens awoke famous before they were 25. Macaulay shone out at 25; Scott at 34. Daniel Webster thought he had retired from Congress at 35. Emerson left the pulpit at 29 a marked man, and Alexander Hamilton electrified New York at 17.

The leaders in art, literature, theology, and statesmanship, took time by the forelock. Napoleon and Clive were boy generals. Brougham, great in law, statesmanship, and literature, was one of the originators of the Edinburgh Review at 22. Hume began publishing at 26; Disraeli at 21. Milton wrote his Hymn to the Nativity at 21; Bryant wrote his Thanatopsis at 18. At 28, Gibbon began his great history. At 28, Burke wrote his Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful. At 28, Wilberforce began the anti-slavery agitation in England. Fox, the most brilliant parliamentary debater England has produced, began his great career at 20.. Everett took Boston by storm at 20, and the nation at 26. Spurgeon aroused the middle class of London when he was 19. Luther, the Wesleys, Whitefield, and St. Francis Xavier set the world aflame in their youth. But all of these cases, save Clive's, and probably Bryant's, stand for hard study and much reading in earlier years. Not altogether because of genius, but by being adequate to the occasion, these early took the path toward apotheosis. Youth was their seedtime.

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