the court-one knows not why-and he returned, after this long absence, to his native land. Then began the third, the last, the most important chapter of his life. This was in the year 1476. He brought over his presses and his workmen with him; and he settled at Westminster.

It is not necessary to enumerate the books which Caxton printed. Books of romance, chivalry, and great achievements were demanded by the knights and nobles. Books of service were wanted by the church. Caxton provided these. Anxious to run his press at a profit, he tried no experiments, and was content to be a servant rather than a teacher.

Those who will take the trouble to visit the British Museum and there examine for themselves the treasures which the nation possesses of early printing will be astonished to observe the rapid advances already made in the art of printing when Caxton undertook its practice. The type is clear and strong-clearer type we have never made since; the ink is perfectly black to this day; the lines are even and in perfect order; the binding, when an ancient binding has been preserved, is like any binding of later times. But the shape of the book was not newly invented, nor the binding,. nor the form of the type; in these matters the printer followed the copyist.

Bru' ges (jěz), a city of Belgium.

Gut' en berg (goo' těn bĕrg), the reputed

inventor of printing.

in gen' ious (yŭs), inventive genius.

Mainz (mints), a city of Germany.
Re'

cuy ell', an old English word signifying a collection.

ADVICE TO A FAVORITE NEPHEW.

(From a Letter to Bushrod Washington.*)

NEWBURGH, January 15, 1783.

Remember, that it is not the mere study of the Law, but to become eminent in the profession of it, which is to yield honor and profit. The first was your choice; let the second be your ambition. Dissipation is incompatible with both; the company in which you will improve most will be least expensive to you; and yet I am not such a Stoic as to suppose that you will, or to think it right that you should, always be in company with senators and philosophers; but of the young and juvenile kind let me advise you to be choice. It is easy to make acquaintances, but very difficult to shake them off, however irksome and unprofitable they are found, after we have once committed ourselves to them. The indiscretions and scrapes, which very often they involuntarily lead one into, prove equally distressing and disgraceful.

Be courteous to all, but intimate with few; and let those few be well tried before you give them your confidence. True friendship is a plant of slow growth, and must undergo and withstand the shocks of adversity before it is entitled to the appellation.

Let your heart feel for the afflictions and distresses of every one, and let your hand give in

*Bushrod Washington became an eminent jurist. For thirty years he was a Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States.

proportion to your purse; remembering always the estimation of the widow's mite, but, that it is not every one who asketh that deserveth charity; all, however, are worthy of the inquiry, or the deserving may suffer.

Do not conceive that fine clothes make fine men, any more than fine feathers make fine birds. A plain genteel dress is more admired, and obtains more credit than lace and embroidery, in the eyes of the judicious and sensible.

The last thing which I shall mention is first in importance; and that is, to avoid gaming. This is a vice which is productive of every possible evil; equally injurious to the morals and health of its votaries. It is the child of avarice, the brother of iniquity, and father of mischief. It has been the ruin of many worthy families, the loss of many a man's honor, and the cause of suicide. To all those who enter the lists, it is equally fascinating. The successful gamester pushes his good fortune till it is overtaken by a reverse. The losing gamester, in hopes of retrieving past misfortunes, goes on from bad to worse, till grown desperate he pushes at everything and loses his all. In a word, few gain by this abominable practice (the profit if any being diffused), while thousands are injured.

Perhaps you will say, "My conduct has anticipated the advice," and "Not one of these applies to me." I shall be heartily glad of it. It will add not a little to my happiness to find those to whom I am nearly connected pursuing the right walk of life. It will be the sure road to my favor, and to those honors and places of profit, which their

country can bestow; as merit rarely goes unrewarded.

I am, dear Bushrod, your affectionate uncle, GEORGE WASHINGTON.

sto' ic, one free from all passions; unmoved vo' ta ry, one devoted to anything. by joy or grief.

OUR REUNITED COUNTRY.

CLARK HOWELL.

(From a Speech delivered at the Peace Jubilee, Chicago, October 19, 1898.)

In the mountains of my State, in a county remote from the quickening touch of commerce, and railroads, and telegraphs-so far removed that the sincerity of its rugged people flows unpolluted from the spring of nature - two vine-covered mounds, nestled in the solemn silence of a country churchyard, suggest the text of my response to the sentiment to which I am to speak to-night. A serious text, and yet out of it there is life, and peace, and hope, and prosperity, for in the solemn sacrifice of the voiceless grave can the chiefest lesson of the republic be learned, and the destiny of its real mission be unfolded.

So bear with me while I lead you to the ruststained slab, which, for a third of a century — since Chickamauga -has been kissed by the sun as it peeped over the Blue Ridge, melting the tears with which the mourning night had bedewed the inscription :

"Here lies a Confederate soldier.
He died for his country."

The September day which brought the body of this mountain hero to that home among the hills which had smiled upon his infancy, been gladdened by his youth, and strengthened by his manhood, was an ever-memorable one with the sorrowing concourse of friends and neighbors who followed his shot-riddled body to the grave; and of that number no man gainsaid the honor of his death, lacked full loyalty to the flag for which he fought, or doubted the justice of the cause for which he gave his life.

Thirty-five years have passed; another war has called its roll of martyrs; again the old bell tolls from the crude, latticed tower of the settlement church; another great pouring of sympathetic humanity, and this time the body of a son, wrapped in the stars and stripes, is lowered to its everlasting rest beside that of the father who sleeps in the stars and bars.

There were those there who stood by the grave of the Confederate hero years before, and the children of those were there, and of those present no one gainsaid the honor of the death of this hero of El Caney, and none were there but loved, as patriots alone can love, the glorious flag that enshrines the people of a common country as it enshrouds the form that will sleep forever in its blessed folds. And on this tomb will be written:

"Here lies the son of a Confederate soldier.

He died for his country."

And so it is that between the making of these two graves human hands and human hearts have reached a solution of the vexed problem that has