"Not for this only we lament his loss

Not for this chiefly we account him blest; But that all this he cast beneath the cross, Content for Christ to live, in Christ to rest.”

Those who knew Praed best hold most strongly to the conviction that he would have taken a foremost place among public men if he had lived. This, in truth, is the most obvious commentary on his workshad he but lived! The shadow of an untimely death seems to rest upon the many graceful productions of his occasional hours, and it is impossible to turn over the faded pages of his schoolboy magazine without thinking with regret of the early grave in which youth and ambition, genius and hope, were extinguished together.

mercy on me, and forgive me my sins. I have gone to see my Maker, and I hope the Lord will forgive me and take me. Mother, pray for your poor girl, and kiss my poor sisters for me, and let them have my books between them. My poor brain is all on a work. Jack Archer, when you see my poor body I hope you will look at me and say, That is through me,' which you well know is a fact. I would rather die like this than do as you told me. Good-by, and God bless you! Those are my last words. May the great God look down in mercy on me! 0 heavenly Father, have mercy on me! O God, look down in mercy on me! My name is Hannah Brooks, No. 1 Bromley Buildings, BreadStreet Hill, City."-Examiner.

ON Tuesday an adjourned inquest on the body | half, and then to be cast off. Oh, God have of a poor girl, eighteen years of age, named Hannah Brooks, who was drowned at St. Paul's Wharf steamboat pier, on the 17th ult., was resumed. Mr. Hann, the summoning officer, handed to the deputy coroner the following touching letter which had been sent to the girl's mother: "John Archer, I hope you will not drive another poor girl to an early grave as you have done me. It is through you that I have done this, for I could not bear the shame you have brought me to, and then laughed at me after being a poor silly fool to you. I hope God will forgive me for this act that I have done, and I hope that God will bless my sisters, brothers, and my mother and father. Mother, you cursed me when I was a girl, and your curse has clung to me, but I hope you will not curse my sisters in case it may cling to them, as it has to me. May God forgive me this crime I have committed. You all thought that I should not do it, but I hope the Lord will have mercy on my poor soul, but I could not bear the disgrace, so you may blame Jack Archer for your poor girl's miserable end. None of you will grieve for me I know, for you said that I had brought you to shame and disgrace. While I write this I am shedding bitter tears to think that I should be so wicked. I have not got a friend in this world to speak to me or give me a kind word. No, I may go on the streets before my mother would give me a bit of bread. Jack Archer said that I might go on the streets for my living, after being what I have to him for two years and a

A MANCHESTER paper states, on what it considers to be most respectable authority, that a wonderful discovery has recently been made in electricity as applicable to purposes of the elec tric telegraph: "Incredible as it may seem, it is said that experiments have established the fact that intelligible signals can be exchanged between distant stations without the intervention of any artificial conductor whatsoever, and with equal success, whether the intervening space be wholly or partially land or water."

From The Examiner. THE GYMNASTIC TRAINING OF TROOPS. ANY one who has lately seen the French infantry must have been struck by the celerity of their movements. Their quick march nearly, if not quite, equals the trot of horse, and the men keep it up without any apparent effort or fatigue. They seem to have acquired a peculiarly nimble way of picking up their feet to borrow a phrase of the jockeys, and it gets them over the ground at a rate which would leave our best light infantry far behind. If celerity of movement be as important on land as it is known to be at sea, the speed of the French infantry will be a point of great superiority in campaigning. The step of our troops is quickened, but it does not come up to the French, who are trained to it by gymnastic exercises. Their physical powers being inferior to those of the English, they improve and develop them to the utmost, and make the most of the man such as he is. As in their cookery, art makes up for the inferiority of material. The English standard of stature and strength is the very first in Europe, but little or nothing is done to cultivate the natural advantages. Our armies have always had the character of being tardy and slow. Thiers says that their generals may be forgiven for causing them to be slaughtered, but not for fatiguing them. To be sure, he is not a very fair authority, but a better witness, the German Commissioner with the Duke of Wellington at Waterloo, states that Blucher endeavored in vain to hasten the march of the English army upon Paris, and that the duke confessed the impossibility of quickening the movement of his troops so as to keep up with the Prussians, who were accounted the very slowest of any continental army. The old school will say, what matters it that the men were slow to move if they beat the enemy? And this is the stock argument against every improvement. With brown Bess our troops beat the French in Spain and Flanders, but then they had a worse sort of brown Bess opposed to them; and bad as our weapon was the fire of our infantry was accounted the very best nourished (we borrow the French word) in Europe, that is to say in the world. And when the French adopted the improved arm, the Minié rifle, it compelled our reluctant military authorities to introduce a corresponding improvement in our weapon, and the En

field was adopted. Why, then, do we neglect what is next in importance to the efficiency of the arm, the speed of the legs that are to carry it to its positions in action?

Oh, some old martinet will say, "See how loosely these Frenchmen scramble along, how badly they wheel, and how ill their line is dressed, while our fellows march like a wall. Slow and sure." But the French in their loose way get ultimately, and quickly, too, into the right position, and their line, though not ruled with mathematical precision, serves for all the purposes of war, though not of the trimmest show on parade-ground. If by outmarching us they secure the advantage of an important position, it will be no consolation that our line in the wrong place is better formed.

In the Peninsula Lord Wellington had brought the British army to a full equality with the French in movement, the business of the campaigns having been the training. But what are we now doing in peace, while the French are supplying the training to bring up their soldiers to something more than the pitch of excellence attained in campaigning? There are improvements no doubt in manoeuvres, but here what can be made of the soldier's limbs is not studied as it is in France. But if any English regiment were put under the training of the French, it would by force of its natural physical advantages surpass the very best our neighbors could produce. We have been led to these remarks by some interesting statements in the Paris correspondence of the Times :—

“A Paris paper, referring to the last manoeuvres of the Infantry of the Guard in the Champ de Mars, speaks of the various modifications that have been introduced at various times into the old regulations of 1831. The commencement of the changes in question was a formation in two ranks instead of cussion locks and of rifled barrels, the dimithree. Then came the introduction of pernution of the weight carried by the soldier, and, finally, the full development of the soldier's activity, and of the mobility of masses of troops. The double quick,' or running step, known as the pas gymnastique, and the bayonet exercise, have been found greatly to promote the suppleness and activity of the ted into the regulations of the 17th of April. soldier, and they have been definitively admit 1862, as principles of military education. The pas gymnastique, which is neither more nor less than a steady run, improves the sol

dier's wind, and by practice, can be kept up for a long time. It enables bodies of infantry to transfer themselves, in action, to any part of the field where they may be needed in an extremely short time, arriving in good order and in good wind. There can be no doubt of the value of this kind of exercise, but it must manifestly be constantly kept up, in peace time as well as in war, since a few months' discontinuance would neutralize much of the benefit of previous training.

"The bayonet drill, by giving the soldier confidence in his weapon and teaching him to handle it adroitly, furnishes him with a powerful means of attack, as well as a precious means of defence in the case of his finding himself surrounded by several adversaries. Considered, finally, as the bases of the instruction of the recruit, the gymnastic step and the bayonet fencing rid him of the original slowness and want of agility of the peasant who is being transformed into a soldier. The two great principles established are the development of the agility of the soldier, and the mobility of masses which is attained as its result. Thus is all our infantry transformed into light infantry, apt for rapid movements, the which, joined to the national dash (élan) of our troops, may produce the greatest results.'

spise lead and give the preference to steel. With the bayonet one is surer of the result. The favorite tactics of the Zouaves have been thus summed up by General Cler (a distinguished French officer who commanded a regiment of Zouaves at the capture of Sebastopol): "They spread themselves in skirmishing order, get as near as possible to the enemy, bewilder him by one or two close volleys, and attack with the bayonet, turning his flanks at the same time." Success has almost invariably crowned this manœuvre, although there might be serious objections to it with other men than Zouaves. In fact, when they thus dash forward they are dispersed in disorder, and it seems impossible to rally them in case of an attack by cavalry. But these regiments possess such an intelligence of war, such a surprising rapidity of evolutions, so great an individual solidity, that a line of skirmishers, scattered over a considerable extent of ground, transforms itself into a square in the space of a few minutes. The officers who have tried their men and know their value leave them the utmost liberty possible. Instead of thwarting their formidable impetus by uselessly dressing them in line, they content themselves with leading them against the feeblest point of that of the enemy. Moreover, the Zouaves themselves have a particular instinct in recognizing the vulnerable place against which their efforts should be brought to bear.'"

"The improvements introduced into the army of so bellicose a nation as the French cannot but be of interest, and worthy of noting by all other European powers. The tactics of the Zouaves especially-a branch of The tactics of the Zouaves may be a questhe French infantry which, in case of a long and serious war, would be likely to be largely tion for military judgment, and different opinaugmented-are of a particularly formidable ions may prevail about them, but we cannot nature to troops that are not prepared for conceive any rational objection to developthem, or which do not possess in perfection ing the agility of the soldier and maximizing that calmness and solidity which high discipline and long service alone can completely bestow. And France has always in Africa forty thousand men, whom it would take little more than a change of uniform to convert into Zouaves. A recent writer on the Algerian army made the following remarks on the Zouaves ::

The superiority of French soldiers is in great part to be attributed to the intelligent manner in which they fight. Among them the Zouaves have acquired a special reputation for spontaneity of action; they are the artists of the battle-field. The part they play in an engagement necessitates particular qualities; they are specially apt at surprises, coups de main, and in those acts of daring which often decide the fate of the day. They are the advanced guard, the heads of columns of an army. Their favorite arm is the bayonet; in musketry they have but moderate confidence; so many balls have whistled harmlessly by them that they de

the mobility of troops. It was not long ago that men dropped down exhausted on a short march to Windsor, one actually died, and the probability is that something of this sort would happen to any regiment in this country put upon a forced march of five-andtwenty miles, which a French regiment trained to marching quickly would perform without distress, and gayly. We doubt extremely whether a battalion of the Guards would effect a march to Windsor in five hours without leaving men lame and exhausted on the road, and we have heard a high military authority express his opinion that those fine household troops would be much better exercised in marches to Wormwood Scrubs or Wimbledon Common, there to waste powder in blank-cartridge practice, than in their squibbing field days, almost on the threshold of their barracks, in Hyde Park. The ground

is ill-chosen both for the neighborhood and not to profit the hearer. The same utterthe exercises of the men. Hyde Park is now the largest square in London, and the firing of the troops is a nuisance to the inhabitants of the surrounding houses, and dangerous to the riders and drivers of horses passing along the much frequented Bayswater road immediately adjoining. How much better that the troops should at the same time both learn to use their limbs in something like a march, and to fire in volleys, or to pop away in skirmishing order, by removing their exercising ground to a moderate distance of six or seven miles. But they would lose flesh, and not look so fine, and there is no answer to that objection. With the French the case is quite different, for their troops are for use, like our sailors, not for show.

ance may be an impertinence, an unpalatable truth, or a disagreeable thing, according to time and circumstance. For example, in a fit of absence, we perpetrate some solecism in dress or behavior. It is an unwelcome truth to be told it, while there is yet opportunity for remedy, or partial remedy. It is an impertinence to be informed of it by a stranger, who has no right to concern himself with our affairs. It is a disagreeable thing when the occasion past-our friend enlightens us about it, simply as a piece of information. We all of us, no doubt, have friends, relations, and acquaintances who think it quite a sufficient reason for saying a thing that it is true. Probably we have ourselves known the state of mind in which we find a certain fact or opinion a burden, a load to be got rid of; and, under the gross mistake that all truth must be spoken, that it is unFrom The Saturday Review. candid and dangerous not to deliver a testimony-convinced that truth, like murder, SAYING DISAGREEABLE things. will out, and that our friend, sooner or later, SOME people, not otherwise ill-natured, must learn the unacceptable fact-we come are apt to season their conversation with dis- to the conclusion that it is best for all paragreeable sayings, unpleasant comments, un- ties to get the thing over by being one's self comfortable insinuations. Such a person, the executioner. We have most of us acted we sometimes hear, is a good sort of fellow, the enfant terrible at some time or other. but he has a way of saying disagreeable But this crude simplicity of candor, where it things. Such a woman can be very charm-is the result of the mere blind intrusive asing when she pleases, but In fact, sertion of truth, is a real weight; and the these people are never spoken of for three primary law of politeness, never to give unconsecutive sentences without a qualification. necessary pain, as soon as it is apprehended, A disagreeable thing is distinguished from is welcomed as a deliverer. Children and an impertinence, which it often closely re- the very young have not experience enough sembles, by certain marks. In the first place, for any but the most limited sympathy, and an impertinence we need not stand, but the can only partially compare the feelings of other we often must, aware that it is the re- others with their own. Indeed, the idea of sult of certain conditions of our friend's the comparison does not occur to them. But mind, which, as we cannot hope to alter, we there are people, who, in this respect, remust resign ourselves to. An impertinence main children all their days, and very awkmay or may not be true-its main design, ward children, too-who burst with a fact as independent of truth, is, more or less, to in- the fool with his secret, and, like the hairsult. It is of the essence of a disagreeable dresser in Leech's caricature, are impelled thing that it should be true true in itself, to tell us that our hair is thin at the top, or true as representing the speaker's state though nothing whatever is to come of the of feeling. And yet an unpalatable truth is communication. These, as Sidney Smith not technically a disagreeable thing any more says, turn friendship into a system of lawful than an impertinence, though, of course, the and unpunishable impertinence, from, so far being told it is an unpleasant operation. It as we can see, no worse cause than incontiis necessary for us, now and then, to hear nence of fact and opinion-feeling it to be unpalatable and unwelcome truths; but a a sufficient and triumphant defence of every disagreeable thing is never a moral necessity perpetration of the sort, that it is true. -it is spoken to relieve the speaker's mind," Why did you tell Mr. So and So that his

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sermon was fifty minutes long?" "Because ognized. The memory becomes loaded with I had looked at my watch." "Why did you supposed slights. Every part of the man is remind such a one that he is growing fat and instinct with grievances, which inevitably old ?" "Because he is." "Why repeat exhale in disagreeable things. We hear them that unfavorable criticism?" "I had just in covert insinuations. We read them in read it." "Why disparage this man's par-rigid smiles. They look out of cold, forbidticular friends? " "I don't like them." ding eyes. They declare themselves in stiff, Why say to that young lady that her dress repelling courtesies. And the mischief does was unbecoming? I really thought so." not end here. There is no habit more catchIt is, however, noticeable in persons of this ing. Tempers amiable enough when let obtrusive candor that they have eyes for alone develop under a stimulus. It is not blemishes only. They are never impelled a wholly unpleasant excitement to find ourto tell pleasant truths-from which, no doubt, selves observing all the forms of friendly and we may infer a certain acerbity of temper, kindly intercourse, yet giving as good as we though these strictures may be spoken in get, or at any rate parrying with spirit. seeming blunt, honest good-humor. Still, There is only one class of persons in the they talk in this way from natural obtuse-world-the perfectly humble-minded-who ness and inherent defect of sympathy. These never say disagreeable things. are the people who always hit upon the wrong thing to say, and instinctively ferret out sore subjects. They are not the class we have in our thoughts. Indeed, they incapacitate themselves for serious mischief, as their acquaintance give them a wide berth, and take care not to expose their more cherished interests to their tender mercies. It requires some refinement of perception to say the more pungent and penetrating disagreeable things. We must care for the opinion or the regard of a person whose sayings of this sort can keenly annoy us. A man must have made friends before he can wound them. A real expert in this art is never rude, and can convey a disregard approaching to contempt for another's opinion, hit him in his most vulnerable points, and send him off generally depressed and uncomfortable, without saying a word that can be fairly taken hold of. Of course the people most distinguished in this way are disappointed people. In the examples that occur to us, we perceive that life has not satisfied them-they do not occupy the place in men's minds which they feel they deserve. But this is no explanation, for the tendency is just as likely to have caused the disappointment as the disappointment the tendency. People who start in life with high, though not wholly ungrounded notions of their own deserts, definite claims, and elaborate self-appreciation, are certain to be in constant collision with their friends, and with society. Their sense of their own rights and merits is perpetually infringed. Their friendship or service entails an obligation which is never duly rec

Nobody acknowledges himself to be an habitual offender in this line. No man will own himself careless of giving pain. When we do become conscious of having thoughtlessly wounded our neighbor's feelings or self-love, it may commonly be traced to the blinding sway of some conviction held in a one-sided, selfish spirit. All strong prepos sessions destroy sympathy, and, like absence of mind, induce an exclusive attention to our own objects or wishes. To judge from their biographies, religious professors are exceedingly apt to err in this direction — unless, perhaps, it be that they say disagreeable things more deliberately, and more on principle, than the laity. The young lady who answered her friend's announcement of her approaching marriage by the inquiry, if she had ever remembered that her future husband might die, thought she was preaching a sermon, but was simply saying a disagreeable thing. The occasion called for sympathy, and preaching was an obtrusion of self and its speciality-an unconscious expedient for bringing down her friend from a high pesition of interest to a level something below her own. The habit of saying disagreeable things belongs impartially to both sexes, but the manner and the motive differ. Our example illustrates the feminine form. There is commonly a touch of jealousy to be traced in a woman's trying or irritating sayings, however remote and far-fetched. However abstract and general the remark may be, an insight into circumstances will probably furnish the clue-will bring some personal and particular cause to light which has held sym