Editor's Chair.
19
g
ff
opportunity of giving you a siiort piece of
advice. If, sir, you propose to lie mine
host' you wlil lie kind enough hereafter
to set before us nnd the public generally
the real article. If you enn give us the
tails already cut oft and nicely arranged,
so much the belter."
HINTS ON STYLE.
By referring to the good examples writ
ten by our ancestors upon lasting monu
ments, it would seem, upon first thought,
that any one might make himself master
of some good style.
But "out of the abundance of the heart
the mouth speaketh." This will always
be as true as it is ancient. Though we re
fer forever, we will still have expressions
of our own, whose depth and beauty shall
depend upon the fullness and sagacity of
our own bosoms. True, it would bo
strange if wo should make no use of the
happy sayings of the wise. But each per
son must be to some extent original, and
therefore unlike every one else. Style
must be the very breathings of the spirit
that is within. And if you write and wish
your words to be immortal, remember
that tliis immortality will depend wholly
upon what you say and how j'ou sa' it.
Thus in their words the spirits of the An
cients ever dwell upon the earth, and
though they lived loug ago, and though
they have been speaking to the world
daily ever since, still it has never grown
weary of their counsels, for their words
are ever fresh. The dipping and rolling
thala&M washed the sands of Troy three
thousand years ago, says Homer, just as
it does today. It is the what and the how
that may bless every sentence with perpe
tuity. Then there must be something always
to say and something of interest. Most
writers make very great mistakes right
here.My friend, Mr. Jean Squeeze, thinks
if he can only get his urticlc in print, his
name in the paper, he is all right. It mat
ters not whether he talks about the Ceu-
tennial, farming or cooking, whether he
throws in superlatives a foot nnd a half
long, he still says nothing. His composi
tion but portrays the shallowness of his
wit. Yet, bullied by his own self-conceit,
lie imagines if he can draw his article out
as long as from here to Hell Gate, he will
bo called "a promising young man, etc."
He never stops to think that lie had only
a very shallow thought to start with, and
that the more paper ho spreads it over the
more quickly it will evaporate. So he goe3
on spreading, and heaven only knows
when he would end if his material would
only hold together. It is not golden, you
see, but of some wishy-washy stuff that
disappears under his very process. But
then what he has to say does not disgust
you so much as the way he says it. He
is an awful poet, by the way, my friend,
Mr. Squeeze. And he likes to show it.
So he slyly slings in here nnd there, not in
metro however, that would bo bad taste,
but in mere pncticnl figures, of a bold
and dashing nature, some rich, sublime
products of his imagination. At one step
he is sounding the very depths of the sea,
at the next step he breathes pure air on the
lofty tops of the snow-cupped mountains.
At one time he ravishes you with his mel
low descriptions of the orange groves of
California, the very next instant lie has
you seated in the little yellow ball over
the dome of St. Peters, looking dizzily
down upon the ancient city. At one time
he shows you the battle of Marathon, then
softly taking j'ou by the hand, he spins
away, in the hundrcth part of a second,
over dark rolling years and deep l'eaving
seas, to the surrender of Cornwall is. I
get tired swear that I will follow him no
longer.
But then there is my friend, Miss Felicia
Megrims. She likes to sit at the window
on some calm, moony night in June, when
Night has laid his cool dewy cloak upon
the earth, while the moon fur oft' swoons
away in sadness. She thus grows intense
lv poetical, also, as she sits alone while
the birds have fallen asleep and only adis-
ra -wtnnnn jymi.m.mr' l Wji
