Precis Writing

PRECIS-WRITING

A precis (A French word ( pronounced pressee) connected with the English word Precise) is a summary, and precis-writing means summarising. Precis-writing is an exercise in compression. A precis is the gist or main theme of a passage expressed in as few words as possible. It should be lucid, succinct, and full (i.e. including all essential points), so that anyone on reading it may be able to grasp the main points and general effect of the passage summarised.

Precis-writing must not be confused with paraphrasing. A paraphrase should reproduce not only the substance of a passage, but also all its details. It will therefore be at least as long as, and probably longer than, the original. But a precis must always be much shorter than the original; for it is meant to express only the main theme, shorn of all unimportant details, and that as tersely as possible. As the styles of writers differ, some being concise and some diffuse, no rigid rule can be laid down for the length of a precis; but so much may be said, that a precis should not contain more than a third of the number of words in the original passage.

I. USES OF PRECIS-WRITING

Precis-writing is a very fine exercise in reading. Most people read carelessly, and retain only a vague idea of what they have read. You can easily test the value of your reading. Read in your usual way a chapter, or even a page, of a book; and then, having closed the book try to put down briefly the substance of what you have just read. You will probably find that your memory of it is hazy and muddled. Is this because your memory is weak? No; it is because your attention was not fully centred on the passage while you were reading it. The memory cannot retain what was never given it to hold; you did not remember the passage properly because you did not properly grasp it as you read it. Now precis-writing forces you to pay attention to what you read; for no one can write a summary of any passage unless he has clearly grasped its meaning. So summarizing is an excellent training in concentration of attention. It teaches one to read with the mind, as well as with the eye, on the page.

Precis-writing is also a very good exercise in writing a composition. It teaches one how to express one's thoughts clearly, concisely and effectively. It is a splendid corrective of the-common tendency to vague and disorderly thinking and loose and diffuse writing. Have you noticed how an uneducated person tells a story? He repeats himself, brings in a lot of irrelevant matter, omits from its proper place what is essential and drags it in later as an after-thought, and takes twenty minutes to say what a trained thinker would express in five. The whole effect is muddled and tedious. In a precis you have to work

within strict limits. You must express a certain meaning in a fixed number of words. So you learn to choose your words carefully, to construct your sentences with an eye to fullness combined with brevity, and to put your matter in a strictly logical order.

So practice in precis-writing is of great value for practical life. In any position of life the ability to grasp quickly and accurately what is read, or heard, and to reproduce it clearly and concisely, is of the utmost value. For lawyers, businessmen, and government officials it is essential.

II. METHOD OF PROCEDURE

You must make up your mind from the beginning that precis-writing means intensive brain-work. There is no easy short cut to summarising a passage. To tear the heart out of a passage means concentrated thought, and you must be prepared for close attention and hard thinking.

Reading. -- (a) First read the passage through carefully, but not too slowly, to get a general idea of its meaning. If one reading is not sufficient to give you this clearly, read it over again, and yet again. The more you read it, the more familiar will it become to you, and the clearer will be (i) its subject, and (ii ) what is said about that subject. Ask yourself, "What is it I am reading? What does the author mean? What is his subject? What is he saying about it? Can I put in a few words the pith of what he says?"

Usually you are required to supply a title for your precis. This is a good stage at which to do this. Think of some word, phrase or short sentence that will sum up briefly the main subject of the passage. Sometimes this is supplied by what we may call a key-sentence. This key-sentence may be found at the beginning or at the end of the passage. For example, look at Exercise 148, No. 20, in which the first sentence gives the subject, all the rest of the passage being an expansion and illustration of it: "Hospitality is a virtue for which the natives of the East in general are highly and deservedly admired". This at once suggests the short title of "Eastern Hospitality". But you will not always find such convenient key-sentences in the passage you have to summarise. In their absence, you must get a clear idea of the subject from the passage as a whole, and then sum it up in a suitable heading.

The effort to find a suitable title at this stage will help you to define in your mind what exactly the subject, or main theme, of the passage is.

Further reading is now necessary to ensure that you understand the details of the passage as well as its main purport. Take it now sentence by sentence, and word by word. If the meanings of any words are not clear, look them up in a dictionary. Detailed study of this kind is necessary, because a phrase, a sentence, or even a single word, may be of prime importance, and the misunderstanding of it may cause you to miss the whole point of the passage.

You should now be in a position to decide what parts of the passage are essential and what parts are comparatively unimportant and so can be omitted without any loss. This process of selection is not so easy as some people think. Beginners select; but they often select in a haphazard or mechanical way. It requires some practice to be able to say, “This is essential to the meaning of the passage, and that is only incidental and unimportant." The best guide, of course, is the subject or main theme of the passage. If you have a clear and correct idea of that you will soon see what is important and what is unimportant.

At this stage it is useful to jot down your conclusions in brief notes-writing down the subject, the title, and the details which you consider essential or important. (This is a better plan than underlining sentences and phrases in the original.)

Writing. -- (a) Rough Drafts :- You should now be ready to attempt the writing of the precis; but be sure of the limits within which it must be compressed. If the number of words is given you, this is easy; but if you are told to reduce the passage to say, a third of its length, count the number of words in the passage and divide by three. You may use fewer words than the number prescribed, but in no case may you exceed the limit.

It is not likely that your first attempt will be a complete success. The draft will probably be too long. In fact you may have to write out several drafts before you find how to express the gist of the passage fully within the limits set. A good deal of patience and revision will be required before you get it right. It is a good plan to write the first draft without having the actual words of the originial passages before one's eyes.

(b) Important Points:-The following points must be kept in mind:

The precis should be all in your own words. It must not be a patchwork made up of phrases and sentences quoted from the original.

The precis must be a connected whole. It may be divided into sections or paragraphs, according to changes in the subject-matter, but these must not appear as separate notes, but must be joined together in such a way as to read continuously.

The precis must be complete and self-contained; that is, it must convey its message fully and clearly without requiring any reference to the original to complete its meaning.

It is only the gist, main purport, or general meaning of the passage which you have to express. There is no room in a precis for colloquial expressions, circumlocutions, periphrasis or rhetorical flourishes. All redundancies of expression must be rigorously pruned. If faithful reproduction of the main theme js the first essential of a summary, conciseness is the second.

The precis must be in simple, direct grammatical and idiomatic English.

The Art of Compression:-You are not bound to follow the original order of thought of the passage to be summarised, if you can

express its meaning more clearly and concisely by transposing any of its parts.

In condensing, aim rather at remodelling, than at mere omission. We may omit mere repetitions, illustrations and examples; but we change figures of speech into literal expressions, compress wordy sentences, and alter phrases to words.

Take a few examples :-

"His courage in battle might without exaggeration be called lion-like".

He was very brave in battle.

"The account the witness gave of the incident moved everyone that heard it to laughter." The witness's story was absurd. "There came to his recollection." He remembered.

"The clerk who is now in his employ."

His present clerk.

"They acted in a manner that rendered them liable to prosecution."

They acted illegally.

"He got up and made a speech on the spur of the moment."

He spoke off-hand.

"John fell into the river and, before help could reach him, he sank."

John was drowned in the river.

"He was hard up for money and was being pressed by his creditor."

He was in financial difficulties.

"The England of our own days is so strong and the Spain of our own days is so feeble, that it is not possible, without some reflection and care, to comprehend the full extent of the peril which England had from the power and ambition nf Spain in the 16th century." (51 words.)

We cannot nowadays fully realise what a menace Spain was to England in the 16th century. (16 words.)

Indirect Speech:- As a rule, a precis should be written in indirect speech, after a "verb of saying" in the past tense. For example:-

"Whether we look at the intrinsic value of our literature, or at the particular situation of this country, we shall see the strongest reason to think that of all foreign tongues the English tongue is that which would be the most useful to our native subjects." - Macualay

Condensed in indirect speech:-

Lord Macaulay said that England's noble literature and the universality of her language made English the foreign language most useful for India.

The change from direct to indirect speech calls for attention to the following points :-

Correct sequence of tenses after the "verb of saying" in the past tense.

Clear differentiation of the various persons mentioned in the passage. Care must be taken with pronouns he, she and they. To avoid confusion proper names should be used occasionally.

Correct use of adverbs and other words indicating time.

Proper choice of "verbs of saying", to indicate questions, commands, warnings, threats or exhortations.

Great care must be taken to avoid lapsing into direct speech - a very common fault.

Some passages, however, are best summarised in direct speech.

Revision :- When you have made your final draft, carefully revise it before you write out the fair copy. Be sure that its length is within the limits prescribed. Compare it with the original to see that you have not omitted any important point. See whether it reads well as a connected whole, and correct any mistakes in spelling and punctuation, rammar and idiom.

Then write out the fair copy neatly, prefixing the title you have chosen.

III. TO SUM UP

First carefully read the passage, if necessary, several times, apprehend clearly its main theme or general meaning.

Examine the passage in detail, to make sure of the meaning of each sentence, phrase and word.

Supply a short title which will express the subject.

Select and note down the important points essential to the expression of the main theme.

Note the length of number of words prescribed for the precis, and write out a first draft.

In doing this remember that you are to express the gist of the passage in your own words, and not in quotations from the passage; that you should condense by remodelling than by mere omission; and that your precis must be self-contained and a connected whole. Add nothing; make no comment; correct no facts.

Revise your draft Compare it carefully with the original to see that you have included all the important points. If it is too long, still further compress it by omitting unnecessary words and phrases or by remodelling sentences. Correct all mistakes in spelling, grammar and idiom, and see that it is properly punctuated. Let the language be simple and direct.

Write out neatly the fair copy under the heading you have selected.

SPECIMEN - 1

One great defect of our civilization is that it does not know what to do with its knowledge. Science, as we have seen, .has given us powers fit for the gods, yet we use them like small children.

For example :- we do not know how to manage our machines. Machines were made to be man's servants; yet he has grown so dependent on them that they are in a fair way to

become his masters. Already most men spend most of their lives looking after and waiting upon machines. And the machines are very stern masters. They must be fed with coal, and given petrol to drink, and oil to wash with, and must be kept at the right temperature. And if they do not get their meals when they expect them, they grow sulky and refuse to work, or burst with rage, and blow up, and spread ruin and destruction all round them, So we have to wait upon them very attentively and do all that we can to keep them In a good temper. Already we find it difficult either to work or play without the machines, and a time may come when they will rule us altogether, just as we rule the animals.

SUMMARY

MEN AND MACHINES

We do not know what to do with our knowledge. Science has given us superhuman powers, which we do not use properly. For example, we are unable to manage our machines. Machines should be fed promptly and waited upon attentively; otherwise they refuse to work or cause destruction. We already find it difficult to do without machines. In the course of time they may rule over us altogether.

SPECIMEN - 2

A stamp is, to many people, just a slip of paper that takes a letter from one town or country to another. They are unable to understand why we stamp collectors find so much pleasure in collecting them and how we find the time in which to indulge in our hobby. To them it seems a waste of time, a waste of effort and a waste of money. But they do not realise that there are many who do buy stamps, many who find the effort worth-while and many who, if they did not spend their time collecting stamps, would spend it less profitably. We all seek something to do in our leisure hours and what better occupation is there to keep us out of mischief than that of collecting stamps? An album, a packet of hinges, a new supply of stamps, and the time passes swiftly and pleasantly.

Stamp-collecting has no limits and a collection never has an end; countries are always printing and issuing new stamps to celebrate coronations, great events, anniversaries and deaths. And the fascination of collecting is trying to obtain these stamps before one's rivals. Every sphere of stamp-collecting has its fascination - receiving letters from distant countries and discovering old stamps in the leaves of dusty old books. A stamp itself has a fascination all its own. Gazing at its little picture we are transported to the wilds of Congo, the homes of the Arabs, and the endless tracks of the Sahara desert. There is a history in every stamp. The ancient Roman Empire and the Constitution of America, India's Independence and the Allied victory, are all conveyed to our mind's eye h> means of stamps. We see famous men, pictures, writers, scientists, soldiers, politicians and famous incidents. Stamps, so small and minute, contain knowledge that is vast and important.

SUMMARY

STAMP-COLLECTING

To many people a stamp is merely something necessary for sending a letter. They regard stamp-collecting as a waste of time, effort and money. But there are many people who love buying stamps and find this hobby worthwhile and more profitable than other leisure pursuits. Collecting stamps helps to pass the time quickly and pleasantly.

Stamp-collecting is limitless and endless. Countries are always issuing stamps to celebrate important events. It is fascinating to receive letters from distant countries and to discover stamps in old books. A stamp itself has a charm. Stamps show us geographical

and historical pictures, famous people and incidents. These small things contain vast knowledge.

Exercise

Write summaries of the following passages of about one-third of the original length:-

In every country people imagine that they are the best and the cleverest and the others are not so good as they are. The Englishman thinks that he and his country are the best; the Frenchman is very proud of France and everything French. The Germans and Italians think no less of their countries and many Indians imagine that India is in many ways the greatest country in the world. This is wrong. Everybody wants to think well of himself and his country. But really there is no person who has not got some good and some bad qualities. In the same way, there is no country which

is not partly good and partly bad. We must take the good wherever we find it and try to remove the bad wherever it may be. We are, of course, most concerned with our own country, India. Unfortunately, it is in a bad way today. Many of our people are poor and unhappy. They have no joy in their lives. We have to find out how we can make them happier. We have to see what is good in our ways and customs and try to keep it, and whatever is bad we have to throw away. If we find anything good in other countries, we should certainly take it.

There are hundreds of superstitions which survive in various parts of the country, and the study of them is rather amusing. We are told, for example, that it is unlucky to point to the new moon or to look at it through glass, but if we bow nine times to it we shall have a lucky month.

Now suppose you tell a scientist that you believe in a certain superstition - let us say, that the howling of a dog is a sign of death. The scientist will immediately require evidence before he can accept your belief. He will want figures to prove it. It will be useless to quote two or three cases; he will want hundreds. He will want also to know (a) if it ever happens that the howling of dogs is not followed by a death, (b) if ever a person's death is predicted by the howling of dogs. The answer to the former question is in the affirmative, and to the latter in the negative. Your superstition will not bear investigation. It may impress an ignorant person; but it cannot face the light of facts. Your case would not cany conviction in a court of law.

Apart from this process of testing by results, any intelligent man will want to know ihe "reason why". What connection can there be between a howling dog and an approaching death? Can it be cause and effect? Can it be that the dog has a gift of foreseeing such events? Or is the dog the instrument employed by some uncanny power that moves invisibly in our midst?

Over-eating is one of the most wonderful practices among those who think that they can afford it. In fact, authorities say that nearly all who can get as much as they desire, over-eat to their disadvantage. This class of people could save a great more food than they can save by missing one meal per week and at the same time they could improve their health.

A heavy meal at night, the so-called “dinner”, is the fashion with many and often it is taken shortly before retiring. It is unnecessary and could be forgone, not only once a week but daily without loss of strength. From three to five hours are needed to digest food. While sleeping, this food not being required to give energy for work, is in many cases converted into excess fat, giving rise to over-weight. The evening meal should be light, taken three or four hours before retiring. This prevents over-eating, conserves energy and reduces the cost of food.

Trees give shade for the benefit of others and while they themselves stand in the sun and endure scorching heat, they produce the fruit by which others profit. The character of good men is like that of trees. What is the use of this perishable body, if no use of it is made for the benefit of mankind? Sandalwood - the more it is rubbed the more scent does it yield. Sugarcane - the more it is peeled and cut into pieces, the more juice does it produce. Gold - the more it is burnt, the more brightly does it shine. The men who are noble at heart do not lose these qualities even in losing their lives. What does it matter whether men praise them or not? What difference does it make whether riches abide with them or not? What does it signify whether they die at this moment or whether their lives are prolonged? Happen what may, those who tread in the right path will not set foot in any other. Life itself is unprofitable to a man who does not live for others. To live for the mere sake of living one's life is to live the life of dogs and cows. Those who lay down their lives for the sake of a friend, or even for the sake of a stranger, will assuredly dwell forever in a world of bliss.

We must insist that free oratory is only the beginning of free speech; it is not the end, but a means to an end. The end is to find the truth. The practical justification of civil liberty is not that the examination of opinion is one of the necessities of man.

For experience tells us that it is only when freedom of opinion becomes the compulsion to debate that the seed which our forefathers planted has produced its fruit. When that is understood, freedom will be cherished not because it is a vent for our opinions but because it is the surest method of correcting them.

‘The unexamined life', said Socrates, 'is unfit to be lived by man'. This is the virtue of liberty, and the ground on which we may best justify our belief in it, that it tolerates error in order to serve the truth. When more men are brought face to face with their opponents, forced to listen and learn and mend their ideas, they cease to be children and savages and begin to live like civilized men. Then only is freedom a reality, when men may voice their opinions because they must examine their opinions.

The only reason for dwelling on all this is that if we are to preserve democracy we must understand its principles. And the principle which distinguishes it from all other forms of government is that in a democracy the opposition not only is tolerated as constitutional but must be maintained because it is in fact indispensable.

The democratic system cannot be operated without effective opposition. For, in making the great experiment of governing people by consent rather than by coercion, it is not sufficient that the party in power should have a majority. It is just as necessary that the party in power should never outrage the minority. That means that it must listen to the minority and be moved by the criticism of the minority.

I designed, after my first voyage, to spend the rest of my days at Baghdad, but it was not long ere I grew weary of an indolent life, and I put to sea a second time, with merchants of known probity. We embarked on board of a good ship, and after recommending ourselves to God, set sail. One day we landed on an Island covered with several sorts of fruit-trees, but we could see neither man nor animal. We walked in the meadows, along the streams that watered them. Whilst some diverted themselves with gathering flowers, and others fruits, I took my wine and provisions, and sat down near a stream betwixt two high trees, which afforded a delightful shade. I made a good meal, and afterwards fell asleep. I cannot tell how long I slept, but when I awoke the ship was no longer in view.

In this sad condition, I was ready to die with grief. I cried out in agony, beat my head and breast, and threw myself upon the ground, where I lay some time, overwhelmed by a rushing current of thoughts, each more distressing than the last. When I gazed towards the sea I could discern nothing but sky and water; but looking over the land I beheld something white; and coming down, I took what provision I had left, and went towards the object, which was so distant that at first could not distinguish what it was.

As I approached, I thought it to be a white dome, of a prodigious height and extent. I drew near to it, and walked round it; but found no door to it; and I found that I had not strength nor activity to climb it, on account of its exceeding smoothness. I made a mark at

the place where I stood, and went round the dome, measuring its circumference; and lo ! it was fifty full paces; and I meditated upon some means of gaining an entrance into it; but no means of accomplishing this occurred to me.

By this time the sun was about to set, and all of a sudden the sky became as dark as if it had been covered with a thick cloud. I was much astonished at this sudden darkness but much more when I found it occasioned by a bird of a most extraordinary size, that came flying towards me. I remembered that I had often heard mariners speak of a miraculous bird called the roc, and conceived that the great dome which I so much admired must be her egg. Shortly afterwards, the bird alighted, and sat over the egg.

It is very easy to acquire bad habits, such as eating too many sweets or too much food, or drinking too much fluid of any kind, or smoking. The more we do a thing, the more we tend to like doing it; and, if we do not continue to do it, we feel unhappy. This is called the force of habit, and the force of habit should be fought against.

Things which may be very good when only done from time to time, tend to become very harmful when done too often and too much. This applies even to such good things as work or rest. Some people form a bad habit of working too much, and others of idling too much. The wise men always remembers that this is true about

himself, and checks any bad habit. He says to himself, "I am now becoming idle," or "I like too many sweets," or "I smoke too much" and then adds, "I will get myself out of this bad habit at once."

One of the most widely spread of bad habits is the use of tobacco. Tobacco is now smoked or chewed by men, often by women, and even by children, almost all over the world. It was brought into Europe from America by Sir Walter Raleigh, four centuries ago, and has thence spread everywhere. I very much doubt whether there is any good in the habit, even when tobacco is not used to excess; and it is extremely difficult to get rid of the habit when once it has been formed.

Alcohol is taken in almost all cool and cold climates, and to a very much less extent in hot ones. Thus, it is taken by people who live in the Himalaya Mountains, but not nearly so much by those who live in the plains of India. Alcohol is not necessary in any way to anybody. Millions of people are beginning to do without it entirely; and once the United States of America have passed laws which forbid its manufacture or sale throughout the length and breadth of their vast country. In India it is not required by the people at all, and should be avoided by them altogether. The regular use of alcohol, even in small quantities, tends to cause mischief in many ways to various organs of the body. It affects the liver, it weakens the mental powers, and lessens the general energy of the body.

The great advantage of early rising is the good start it gives us in our day's work. The early riser has done a large amount of hard work before other men have got out of bed. In the early morning the mind is fresh, and there are few sounds or other distractions, so that work done at that time is generally well done. In many cases the early riser also finds time to take some exercise in the fresh morning air, and this exercise supplies him with a fund of energy that will last until the evening. By beginning so early, he knows that he has plenty of time to do thoroughly all the work he can be expected to do, and is not tempted to hurry over any part of it. All his work being finished in good lime, he has a long interval of rest in the evening before the timely hour when he goes to bed. He gets to sleep several hours before midnight, at the time when sleep is most refreshing and after a sound night's rest, rises early next morning in good 'health and spirits for the labours of a new day.

It is very plain that such a life as this is far more conducive to health than that of the man who shortens his waking hours by rising late, and so can afford in the course of the day little leisure for necessary rest. Any one who lies in bed late, must, if he wishes to do a full day's work, go on working to a correspondingly late hour, and deny himself the hour or two of evening exercise that he ought to take for the benefit of his health. But, in spite of all his efforts, he will probably produce as good results as the early riser, because he misses the best working hours of the day.

It may be objected to this that some find the perfect quiet of midnight by far the best time for working. This is no doubt true in certain cases. Several great thinkers have found by

experience that their intellect is clearest, and they can write best, when they burn the midnight oil. But even in such cases the practice of working late at night cannot be commended. Few men, if any, can exert the full power of their intellect at the time when nature prescribes sleep, without ruining their health thereby; and of course the injury done to the health must in the long run have a bad effect on the quality of the work done.

 The human race is spread all over the world, from the polar regions to the

tropics. The people of which it is made up, eat different kinds of food, partly according to the climate in which they live, and partly according to the kind of food which their country produces. Thus, in India, the people live chiefly on different kinds of grain, eggs, milk, or sometime fish and meat. In Europe the people eat more flesh and less grain. In the Arctic regions, where no grain and fruits are produced, the Eskimo and other races live almost entirely on flesh, especially fat.

The men of one race are able to eat the food of another race, if they are brought into the country inhabited by the latter; but as a rule they still prefer their own food, atleast for a time - owing to custom. In hot climates, flesh and fat are not much needed.

but in the Arctic regions they seem to be very necessary for keeping up the heat of the body.

The kind of food eaten also depends very often on custom or habit, and sometimes upon religion. Brahmins will not touch meat; Mohammedans and Jews will not touch the flesh of pigs. Most races would refuse to eat the flesh of many unclean animals, although, quite possibly, such flesh may really be quite wholesome.

All races of mankind have their own different ideas on this matter. Thus the English used to laugh at the French because the latter ate frogs' legs and some kind of snails; the Australians dislike rabbits although the English eat them; and the Burmese eat the flesh of crocodiles and elephants.

Nevertheless there are many reasons for these likes and dislikes. Thus, swine in eastern countries are very dirty feeders, whereas in Europe they are kept on clean food. The result is that their flesh is eaten in Europe but not in India. Men dislike eating the flesh of all draught animals. Hence the Englishman will not eat horse-flesh, and the Hindu will not touch the flesh of cattle.

Lastly, certain savage peoples used to be cannibals - that is to say, they ate human flesh - though this custom has now fortunately almost ceased throughout the whole world There is another reason for disliking certain kinds of flesh, and a very good reason too. It is because these kinds are apt to contain dangerous parasites, which may get into the blood of those who eat the flesh. Certain kinds of swine, for example, are dangerous as food, as their flesh contains a parasite in the form of a little worm.

Dear boy, now that you are going a little more into the world I will take this occasion to explain my intentions as to your future expenses, that you may know what you have to expect from me, and make your plan accordingly. I shall neither deny nor grudge you any money that may be necessary for either your improvement or pleasures; I mean the pleasures of a rational being. Under the head of improvement I mean the best books, and the best masters cost what they will; I also mean all the expense of lodgings, coach, dress servants, etc., which, according to the several places where you may be, shall be respectively necessary to enable you to keep the best company. Under the head of rational pleasures I comprehend, first, proper charities to real and compassionate objects of it; secondly, proper presents to those to whom you are obliged, or whom you desire to oblige; thirdly, a conformity of expense to that of the company which you keep; as in public spectacles, your share of little entertainments, a few pistoles at games of mere commerce and other incidental calls of good company. The only two articles which I will never supply are, the profusion of low riot, and the idle lavishness of negligence and laziness. A fool squanders away without credit or advantage to himself, more than a man of sense spends with both. The latter employs his money as he does his time, and never spends a shilling of the one, nor a minute of the other, but in something that is either useful or rationally pleasing to himself or others. The former buys whatever he does not

          want, and does not pay for what he does want. He cannot withstand the charms of a toy-shop; snuff-boxes, watches, heads or canes, etc., are his destruction. His servants and tradesmen conspire with his own indolence to cheat him, and in a very little time he is astonished, in the midst of all the ridiculous superfluities, to find himself in want of all the real comforts and necessaries of life. Without care and method the largest fortune will not, and with them almost the smallest will, supply all necessary expenses. Keep an account in a book, of all that you receive, and of all that you pay; for no man, who knows what he receives and what he pays, ever runs out.

                         

           A great part of Arabia is desert. Here there is nothing but sand and rock. The

                         

sand is so hot that you cannot walk over it with your bare feet in the daytime. Here and there in the desert are springs of water that come from deep down under the ground so deep that the sun cannot dry them up. These springs are few and far apart, but wherever there is one, trees grow tall and graceful, making a cool, green, shady place around the spring. Such a place is called an oasis.

                         

The Arabs who are not in the cities live in the desert all the year round. They live

in tents that can be put up and taken down very easily and quickly so that they can move from one oasis to another, seeking grass and water for their sheep, goats, camels and horses. These desert Arabs eat ripe, sweet figs, and also the dates that grow upon the palm trees; they dry them, too, and use them as food all the year round.

These Arabs have the finest horses in the world. An Arab is very proud of his riding horse, and loves him almost as much as he loves his wife and children. He never puts heavy loads upon his horse, and often lets him stay in the tent with his family.

The camel is much more useful to the Arab than his beautiful horse, however, for he is much larger and stronger. One camel can carry as much as or more than two horses. The Arab loads the camel with goods and rides him, too, for miles and miles across the desert - just as if he were really the "Ship of the Desert," which he is often called.

Ferdinand and Isabella, informed of the return and discoveries of their admiral, awaited him at Barcelona with honour and munificence worthy of the greatness of

his services. The nobility came from all the provinces to meet him. He made a triumphal entry as a prince of future kingdoms. The Indians brought over as a living proof of the existence of new races in these newly-discovered lands, marched at the head of the procession, their bodies painted with diverse colours, and adorned with gold necklaces and pearls. The animals and birds, the unknown plants, and the precious stones collected on these shores, were exhibited in golden basins, carried on the heads of Moorish

or Negro slaves. The eager crowd pressed close upon them, and wondrous tales were circulated about the officers and companions of Columbus. The admiral himself, mounted on a richly caparisoned charger presented by the king, next appeared, accompanied by a numerous cavalcade of courtiers and gentlemen. All eyes were directed toward the man inspired of Heaven, who first had dared lift the veil of Ocean. People sought in his face for a sign of his mission and thought they could discern one. The beauty of his features, the majesty of his countenance, the vigour of eternal youth joined to the dignity of age the combination of thought with action, of strength with experience, a thorough appreciation of his worth combined with piety, made Columbus then appear (as those relate who saw him enter Barcelona) like a prophet, or a hero of Holy Writ or Grecian story.

"None could compare with him," they say; "all felt him to be the greatest or most fortunate of men."

Ferdinand and Isabella received him on their throne, shaded from the sun by a golden canopy. They rose up before him, as though he had been an inspired messenger. They then made him sit on a level with themselves, and listened to the circumstantial account of his voyage. At the end of his recital, which habitual eloquence had coloured with his exuberant imagination, the king and queen, moved to tears, fell on their knees and repeated the Te Deum, a thanksgiving for the greatest conquest the Almighty had yet vouchsafed to sovereigns.

Up the River Hudson in North America are the Catskill Mountains. In a certain village at the foot of these mountains, there lived long ago a man named Rip Van Winkle. He was a simple and good-natured person, a very-kind neighbour and a great favourite among alt the good wives of the village. Whenever there was a squabble in the family of Rip, the women in the village always took his part and laid all the blame on Dame Van Winkle.

The children of the village too would shout with joy, whenever they saw him. He helped at their sports, made playthings for them, taught them to fly kites and shoot marbles and told them long stories of ghosts, witches and Indians.

Rip had no love for labour, if it would bring him profit. He would sit for a whole day on a wet rock and fish without a murmur, even though he did not catch a single fish. He would carry a light gun on his shoulder for hours together and shoot only a few squirrels or wild pigeons.

He would never refuse to assist a neighbour even in roughest toil. The women of the village often employed him to run their errands and to do little jobs for them. In a word, Rip was ready to attend to anybody's business but his own. He was, however, one of those men who take the world easy. He would eat coarse bread or fine, whichever

could be got with least thought or trouble. And he would rather starve on a penny than work for a pound.

If left to himself, Rip would have whistled away life in perfect contentment. But his wife always kept drumming in his ears about his idleness, his carelessness and the ruins he was bringing on his family. Rip had but one way of replying to all her lectures-he shook his head, cast up his eyes and said nothing. He had one good friend at home and that was his dog Wolf which was as idle as the master.

The man who is perpetually hesitating which of the two things he will do first, will do neither. The man who resolves, but suffers his resolution to be changed by the first counter-suggestions of a friend, - who fluctuates from opinion to opinion, from plan to plan, and veers like a weather-cock to every point of the compass, with every breath of caprice that blows - can never accomplish any thing great or useful. Instead of being progressive in any thing, he will be at best stationary, and more probably retrograde in all. It is only the man who first consults wisely, then resolves firmly, and then executes his purpose with flexible perseverance, undismayed by those petty difficulties which daunt a weaker spirit, that can advance to eminence in any line. Take your course wisely, but firmly; and having taken it, hold upon it with heroic resolution, and the Alps and Pyrenees will sink before you.

Nature seems to have taken a particular care to disseminate her blessings among the different regions of the world with an eye to this mutual intercourse and traffic among mankind, that the natives of the several parts of the globe might have a kind of dependence upon one another, and be united together by their common interest. Almost every degree produces something peculiar to it. The food often grows in one country, and the sauce in another. The fruits of Portugal are corrected by the products of Barbadoes, and the infusion of a China plant is sweetened by the pith of an Indian cane. The Philippine islands give a flavour to our European bowls. The single dress of a woman of quality is often the product of a hundred climates. The muff and the fan come together from the different ends of the earth. The scarf is sent from Jie torrid zone, and the tippet from beneath the pole. The brocade petticoat rises out of the mines of Peru, and the diamond necklace out of the bowels of Indostan.

It is the height of selfishness for men, who fully appreciate in their own case the great advantage of a good education, to deny these advantages to women. There is no valid argument by which the exclusion of the female sex from the privilege of education can be defended. It is argued that women have their domestic duties to perform, and that, if they were educated, they would bury themselves in their books and have little time for attending to the management of their households. Of course it is possible for women, as it is for men, to neglect necessary work in order to spare more time for reading sensational novels. But women are no more liable to this temptation than men. and most women would be able to do their household work all the better for being able to refresh their minds in the intervals of leisure with a little reading. Nay, education would even help

them in the performance of the narrowest sphere of womanly duty. For education involves knowledge of the means by which health may be preserved and improved, and enables a mother to consult such modern books as will tell her how to rear up her children into healthy men and women and skilfully nurse them and her husband when disease attacks her household. Without education she will be not unlikely to listen with fatal results to the advice of superstitious quacks, who pretend to work wonders by charms and magic.

But according to a higher conception of woman's sphere, woman ought to be something more than a household drudge. She ought to be able not merely to nurse her husband in sickness, but also to be his companion in health. For this part of her wifely duty education is necessary, for there cannot well be congenial companionship between an educated man and an uneducated wife, who can converse with her husband on no higher subjects than cookery and servants' wages. Also one of a mother's highest duties is the education of her children at the time when their mind is most amenable to.

instruction. A child's whole future life, to a large extent, depends on the teaching it receives in early childhood, and it is needless to say, that this first foundation of education cannot be well laid by an ignorant mother. On all these grounds female education is a vital necessity.

The effect produced on the mind by travelling depends entirely on the mind of the traveller and on the way in which he conducts himself. The chief idea of one very common type of traveller is to see as many objects of interest as he possibly can. If he can only after his return home say that he has seen such and such a temple, castle, picture gallery, or museum, he is perfectly satisfied. Therefore, when he arrives at a famous city, he rushes through it, so that he may get over as quickly as possible the task of seeing its principal sights, enter them by name in his note-book as visited or, in his own phraseology 'done', and then hurry on to another city which he treats in the same unceremonious way.

Another kind of traveller in all he sees finds entertainment for his foolish spirit of ridicule. The more hallowed any object is from historical and religious associations or artistic beauty, the more he delights to degrade it by applying to it familiar terms of vulgar slang that he mistakes for wit. Such a one brings disgrace upon his nation by the rude insolence with which he laughs at foreigners and their ways, and everything else that attracts the notice of his feeble understanding. At the end of his wanderings he returns to his home a living example, showing

How much the fool that hath been taught to roam

Excels the fools that hath been kept at home.

Far different is the effect of travels upon who leave their native country with minds prepared by culture to feel intelligent admiration for all the beauties of nature and art to be found in foreign lands. Their object is not to see much, but to see well. When they visit Paris or Athens or Rome, instead of hurrying from temple to museum, and from museum to picture gallery, they allow the spirit of the place to sink into their minds, and only visit such monuments as the time they .have at their disposal allows them to contemplate without irreverent haste. They find it more profitable and delightful to settle down for a week or so at centres of great historical and artistic interest or of remarkable natural beauty, than to pay short visits to all the principal cities that they pass by. In this way they gain by their travels refreshment and rest for their minds, satisfaction to their intellectual curiosity or artistic tastes, and increased knowledge of the world and its inhabitants. Such people, who have travelled with their eyes open, return to their native land with a greater knowledge of its glories and defects than the stay-at-home can ever have.

It is in the temperate countries of northern Europe that the beneficial effects of cold are most manifest. A cold climate seems to stimulate energy by acting as an obstacle. In

the face of an insuperable obstacle our energies are numbed by despair; the total absence of obstacles, on the other hand leaves no room for the exercise and training of energy; but a struggle against difficulties that we have a fair hope of overcoming, calls into active operation all our powers. In like manner, while intense cold numbs human energies, and a hot climate affords little motive for exertion, moderate cold seems to have a bracing effect on the human race. In a moderately cold climate man is engaged in an arduous, but no hopeless struggle with the inclemency of the weather He has to build strong houses and procure thick clothes to keep himself warm. To supply fuel for his fires, he must hew down trees and dig coal out of the bowels of the earth. In the open air, unless he moves quickly, he will suffer pain from the biting wind. Finally, in order to replenish the expenditure of bodily tissue caused by his necessary exertions, he has to procure for himself plenty of nourishing food.

Quite different is the lot of man in the tropics. In the neighbourhood of the equator there is little need of clothes or fire, and it is possible with perfect comfort and no danger to health, to pass the livelong day stretched out on the bare ground beneath the shade of a tree. A very little fruit or vegetable food is required to sustain life under such circumstances, and that little can be obtained without much exertion from the bounteous earth.

We may recognize much the same difference between ourselves at different seasons of the year, as there is between human nature in the tropics and in temperate climes. In hot weather we are generally languid and inclined to take life easily; but when the cold season comes, we find that we are more inclined to vigorous exertion of our minds and bodies.

One of the peculiarities which distinguish the present age is the multiplication of books. Every day brings new advertisements of literary undertakings, and we are flattered with repeated promises of growing wise on easier terms than our progenitors.

How much either happiness or knowledge is advanced by this multitude of authors, is not very easy to decide.

He that teaches us anything which we know not before, is undoubtedly to be loved as a benefactor; and he that supplies life with innocent amusement, will be certainly caressed as a pleasing companion.

But few of those who fill the world with books, have any pretensions to the hope either of pleasing or instructing. They have often no other task than to lay two books before them out of which they compile a third, without any new materials of their own, and with little application of judgement to those which former authors have supplied.

That all compilations are useless, I do not assert. Particles of science are often very widely scattered upon topics very remote from the principal subject, which are often more valuable than formal treatises, and which yet are not known because they are not promised in the title. He that collects those under proper heads is very laudably employed; for though he exerts no great abilities in the work, he facilitates the progress of others, and, by making that easy of attainment which is already written, may give some mind more vigorous or more adventurous than his own, leisure for new thoughts and original designs.

But the collections poured lately from the press have seldom been made at any great expense of time or inquiry, and therefore only serve to distract choice without supplying any real want.

Hospitality is a virtue for which the natives of the East in general are highly and deservedly admired; and the people of Egypt are well entitled to commendation on this account. A word which signifies literally "a person on a journey" ("musafir") is the term most commonly employed in this country in the sense of a visitor or guest. There are very few persons here who would think of sitting down to a meal, if there were a stranger in the house without inviting him to partake of it unless the latter were a menial; in which case, he would be invited to eat with the servants. It would be considered a shameful violation of good manners if a Muslim abstained from ordering the table to be prepared at the usual time because a visitor happened to be present. Persons of the middle

classes in this country, if living in a retired situation, sometimes take their supper before the door of their house, and invite every passenger of respectable appearance to eat with them. This is very commonly done among the lower order. In cities and large towns, claims on hospitality are unfrequent; as there are many wekalehs, or khans, where strangers may obtain lodging; and food is very easily procured; but in the villages, travellers are often lodged and entertained by the Sheikh or some other inhabitant; and if the guest be a person of the middle or higher classes, or even not very poor he gives a present to his host's servants, or to the host himself. In the desert, however, a present is seldom received from a guest, By a Sunneh law, a traveller may claim entertainment from a person able to afford it to him, for three days.

21. Day by day her influence and dignity increased. First of all she received the title of Noor Mahal, 'Light of the Harem' but was afterwards distinguished by that of Noor Jahan Begam, 'Light of the World.' All her relations and connexions were raised to honour and wealth No grant of lands was conferred upon any one except under her seal, In addition to giving her the titles that other kings bestowed, the Emperor granted Noor Jahan the rights of sovereignty and government. Sometimes she would sit in the balcony of her palace, while the nobals world present themselves, and listen to

her dictates. Coin was struck in her name, with this super-scription:'By order of the King Jehangir, gold has a hundred splendours added to it by receiving the impression of the name of Noor Jahan, the Queen Begam.' On all farmers also receiving the Imperial signature, the name of 'Noor Jahan, the Queen Begam,' was jointly attached. At last her authority reached such a pass that the King was such only in name. Repeatedly he gave out that he had bestowed the sovereignty on Noor Jahan Begam, and would say, 'I require nothing beyond a sir of wine and half a sir of meat.' It is impossible to describe the beauty and wisdom of the Queen. In any matter that was presented to her, if a difficulty arose, she immediately solved it. Whoever threw himself upon her protection was preserved from tyranny and oppression; and if ever she learnt that any orphan girl was destitute and friendless, she would bring about her marriage, and give her a wedding portion. It is probable that during her reign not less than 500 orphan girls were thus married and portioned.

Dante was of moderate height and after reaching maturity, was accustomed to walking somewhat bowed, with a slow and gentle pace, clad always in such sober dress as befitted his ripe years. His face was large, and the lower lip protruded beyond the upper. His complexion was dark, his hair and beard thick, black, and curled, and his expression ever melancholy and thoughtful.

In both his domestic and his public demeanour he was admirably composed and orderly, and in all things courteous and civil beyond any other. In food and drink he was most temperate, both in partaking of them at the appointed hours and in not passing the limits of necessity. Nor did he show more epicurism in respect of one thing than another, He praised delicate viands, but ate chiefly of plain dishes, and censured beyond measure those who bestow a great part of their attention upon possessing choice things, and upon the extremely careful preparation of the same, affirming that such persons do not eat to live, but rather live to eat.

None was more vigilant than he in study and in whatever else he undertook, insomuch that his wife and family were annoyed thereby, until they grew accustomed to his ways, and after that they paid no heed thereto. He rarely spoke unless questioned, and then thoughtfully, and in a voice suited to the matter whereof he treated. When, however, there was cause he was eloquent and fluent in speech, and possessed of an excellent and ready delivery. In his youth he took the greatest delight in music and song, and enjoyed the friendship and intimacy of all the best singers and musicians of his time. Led on by this delight he composed many poems, which he made them clothe in pleasing and masterly melody.

People moan about poverty as a great evil; and it seems to be an accepted belief that if people only had plenty of money, they would be happy and useful and get more out of life. As a rule, there is more genuine satisfaction in life and more obtained from life in the humble cottage of the poor man than in the palaces of the rich. I always pity the sons and

daughters of rich men, who are attended by servants, and have governesses at a later age; at the same time I am glad to think that they do not know what they have missed.

It is because I know how sweet and happy and pure the home of honest poverty is, how free from perplexing care and from social envies and jealousies-how loving and united its members are in the common interest of supporting the family that I sympathize with the rich man's boy and congratulate the poor man's son. It is for these reasons that from the ranks of the poor so many strong, eminent, self-reliant men have always sprung and always must spring. If you will read the list of the "Immortals who were not born to die," you will find that most of them have been born poor.

It seems nowadays a matter of universal desire that poverty should be abolished. We should be quite willing to abolish luxury; but to abolish honest, industrious, self-denying poverty would be to destroy the soil upon which mankind produces the virtues that will enable our race to reach a still higher civilization than it now possesses.

The situation of Columbus was daily becoming more and more critical. In proportion as he approached the reason where he expected to find land, the impatience of his crews augmented the favourable signs which increased his confidence where

decided by them as delusive; and there was danger of their rebelling and obliging him to turn back, when on the point of realizing the object of all his labours. They beheld themselves with dismay still wafted onward over the boundless wastes of what appeared to them a mere watery desert surrounding the habitable world. What was to become of them should their provisions fall? Their ships were too weak and defective even for the great voyage they had already made, but if they were still to press forward, adding at every moment to the immense expanse behind them, how should they ever be able to return, having no intervening port where they might victual and refit? Were they to sail in until they perished, or until all return became impossible? In such case they would be the authors of their own destruction.

On the other hard, should they consult their safety and turn back before too late, who would blame them? Any complaints made by Columbus would be of no weight; he was a foreigner, without friends or influence; his schemes had been condemned by the learned and discountenanced by people of all ranks. He had no party to uphold him, and a host of opponents whose pride of opinion would be gratified by his failure. Or, as an effectual means of preventing his complaints, they might throw him into the seas. and give out that he had fallen overboard while busy with his instruments contemplating the stars, a report which no one would have either the inclination or the means to controvert.

Columbus was not ignorant of the mutinous disposition of his crew, but he still maintained a serene and steady countenance--soothing some with gentle words, endeavouring to stimulate the pride or avarice of others, and openly menacing the refractory with signal punishment, should they do anything whatever to impede the voyage.

The great Roman orator, Cicero, in his celebrated treatise on Friendship, remarks with truth that it increases happiness and diminishes misery by die doubling of our joy and the dividing of our grief. When we do well, it is delightful to have friends who are so proud of our success that they receive as much pleasure from it as we do ourselves. For the friendless man the attainment of wealth, power, and honour is of little value. Such possessions contribute to our happiness most by enabling us to do good to others but if all those whom we are able to benefit are strangers, we take far less pleasure in our beneficence than if it were exerted on behalf of friends whose happiness is as dear to us as our own. Further, when we do our duty in spite of temptation, the mental satisfaction obtained from the approval of our consciences is heightened by the praise of our friends; for their judgement is as it were a second conscience, encouraging us in good and deterring us from evil. Our amusements have little zest and soon pall upon us if we engage in them in solitude, or with uncongenial companions, for whom we can feel no affection. Thus in every case our joys are rendered more intense and more permanent by being shared with friends.

It is equally true that, as Cicero points out, friendship diminishes our misery by enabling us to share the burden of it with others. When fortune has inflicted a heavy unavoidable

blow upon us, our grief is alleviated by friendly condolence, and by the thought that as long as friends are left to us, life is still worth living.

But many misfortunes which threaten us are not inevitable and in escaping such misfortunes, the advice and active assistance of our friends may be invaluable. The friendless man stands alone, exposed, without protection to his enemies and to the Wows of fortune; but whoever has loyal friends is thereby provided with a strong defence against the worst that fortune can do to him.

The best friend a man has in this world may turn against him and become his enemy. His son or his daughter, that he has reared with loving care, may prove ungrateful. Those who are nearest and dearest to us, those whom we trust with our happiness and our good name, may become traitors to their faith.

The money that a man has he may lose. It flies away from him perhaps when he needs it most.

A man's reputation may be sacrificed in a moment of ill-considered action. The people who are prone to fall on their knees to do us honour when success is with us, may be the first to throw stones of malice when failure settles its cloud upon our heads.

The one absolutely unselfish friend that man can have in this selfish world, the one that never deserts him, the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous is his dog.

A man's dog stands by him in prosperity and in poverty, in health and in sickness. He will sleep on the cold ground, where the wintry winds blow and the snow drives fiercely, if only he may be by his master's side. He will kiss the hand that has no food to offer, he will lick the wounds and sores that come in encounter with the roughness of the world.

He guards the sleep of his pauper master as if he was a prince. When all other friends desert he remains.

When riches take wings and reputation falls to pieces, he is as constant in his love as the sun in its journey through the heavens. If fortune drives the master forth an outcast in the world, friendless, homeless, the .faithful dog asks no higher privilege than that of accompanying him to guard against danger, to fight against his enemies. And when the last scene of all comes, and death takes the master in his embrace, and his body is laid away in the cold ground, no matter if all other friends pursue their way, there by the graveside will the noble dog be found, his head between his paws, his eyes sad but open in alert watchfulness, faithful and true even to death.