opinions. Indeed, as each one has her own individuality, not to say eccentricity, pretty strongly developed, nothing is so easy as verbal retaliation; but somehow, good will reigns among them to a considerable degree.

The Cranford ladies have only an occasional little quarrel, spirted out in a few peppery words and angry jerks of the head; just enough to prevent the even tenor of their lives from becoming too flat. Their dress is very independent of fashion; as they observe, "What does it signify how we dress here in Cranford, where everybody knows us?" And if they go from home, their reason is equally cogent, "What does it signify how we dress here, where nobody knows us?" The materials of their clothes are, in general, good and plain, and most of them are nearly as scrupulous as Miss Tyler, of cleanly memory; but I will answer for it, the last gigot, the last tight and scanty petticoat in wear in England, was seen in Cranford, and seen without a smile.

I can testify to a magnificent family red silk umbrella, under which a gentle little spinster, left alone of many brothers and sisters, used to patter to church on rainy days. Have you any red silk umbrellas in London?

Then there were rules and regulations for visitings and calls; and they were announced to any

young people who might be staying in town, with all the solemnity with which the old Manx laws were read once a year on the Tinewald Mount. "Our friends have sent to inquire how you are after your journey to-night, my dear" (fifteen miles in a gentleman's carriage); "they will give you some rest to-morrow, but the next day, I have no doubt, they will call; so be at liberty after twelve -from twelve to three are our calling-hours."

Then, after they had called :

"It is the third day; I dare say your mamma has told you, my dear, never to let more than three days elapse between receiving a call and returning it; and also, that you are never to stay longer than a quarter of an hour."

"But am I to look at my watch? How am I to find out when a quarter of an hour has passed?" "You must keep thinking about the time, my dear, and not allow yourself to forget it in conversation."

As everybody had this rule in their minds, whether they received or paid a call, of course no absorbing subject was ever spoken about. We kept ourselves to short sentences of small talk, and were punctual to our time.

I imagine that a few of the gentlefolks of Cranford were poor, and had some difficulty in making both ends meet; but they were like the Spartans,

and concealed their smart under a smiling face. We, none of us, spoke of money, because that subject savored of commerce and trade, and though some might be poor, we were all aristocratic. The Cranfordians had that kindly esprit de corps which made them overlook all deficiencies in success when some of them tried to conceal their poverty.

When Mrs. Forrester, for instance, gave a party in her baby-house of a dwelling, and the little maiden disturbed the ladies on the sofa by a request that she might get the tea tray out from underneath, every one took this novel proceeding as the most natural thing in the world, and talked on about household forms and ceremonies, as if we all believed that our hostess had a regular servants' hall, second table, with housekeeper and steward, instead of the one little charity-school maiden, whose short ruddy arms could never have been strong enough to carry the tray upstairs, if she had not been assisted, in private, by her mistress, who now sat in state, pretending not to know what cakes were sent up, though she knew, and we knew, and we knew that she knew that we knew, she had been busy all the morning making tea bread and sponge cakes.

There were one or two consequences arising from this general but unacknowledged poverty, and this very much acknowledged gentility, which were not

amiss, and which might be introduced into many circles of society to their great improvement. For instance, the inhabitants of Cranford kept early hours, and clattered home in their pattens, under the guidance of a lantern-bearer, about nine o'clock at night; and the whole town was abed and asleep by half-past ten. Moreover it was considered "vulgar" (a tremendous word in Cranford) to give anything expensive, in the way of eatable or drinkable, at the evening entertainments. Wafer breadand-butter and sponge biscuits were all that the Honorable Mrs. Jamieson gave; and she was sisterin-law to the late Earl of Glenmire, although she did practice such "elegant economy.'

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Elegant economy!" How naturally one falls back into the language of Cranford! There economy was always "elegant," and money spending always" vulgar and ostentatious"; a sort of sour grape-ism which made us very peaceful and satisfied.

the Amazons were a fabled nation of warlike women. The Greeks seem to have been the first to conceive the idea, but it has cropped up here and there since their day.

gigot: a sleeve supposed to resemble in shape a leg of mutton.

the Isle of Man is a small island in the Irish Sea that has a good deal of independence and many curious local customs. Tinewald Mount is in the Isle of Man on the way from Castletown to Peel.

Spartans: a Greek people with a contempt for pain which has become proverbial.

pattens: shoes with thick wooden soles.

esprit de corps: the fellow-feeling of those belonging to the same society.

41. IN AUGUST

By William Dean Howells

WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS

WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS (born at Martinsville, Ohio, March 1, 1837) is preeminently a novelist. He is, however, a master of many forms of literature, and his poems, his essays, his memoirs, his comedies, are always noteworthy. He began life as a printer and a journalist, but always had his mind upon literature. He published a volume of verse with a friend in 1860 and became known by poems sent to "The Atlantic Monthly." He passed four years in Venice as consul for this country and then returned to America and began more definitely the literary career

that is happily not yet closed. In his earlier days he was somewhat romantic, at least in his poetry. Afterwards he became the chief American realistic novelist. It is not, however, as a novelist merely that Mr. Howells is to be thought of. He is, and, since the death of Lowell, has been, the most distinguished representative of American letters, representative not only in the breadth of his range, but in the character of his thought.