From The Saturday Review. A GREAT part of the most important business of life is transacted imperceptibly, and through the unconscious agency of innumerable persons who contribute, by their choice of phrases to the gradual modification of language. Words come to bear a totally different meaning in different generations, and, in the course of the process, influence, in no small degree, the nature of the modifications which they record. The invention of the name" Whig" for a particular political party had no small historical importance, for it led people to ask what they meant by it, and at the same time gave them considerable facilities in conducting the inquiry. A more or less conscious and explicit sentiment informed those who originated the nickname that particular people had a sufficient number of points of resemblance to render them capable of being described by a common mark; and when the mark was once affixed, an inquiry into the nature and causes of the peculiarities denoted by it was natural, and, indeed, almost inevitable. of property and no official or professional position universally implies personal superiority, there is a constant tacit revolt against this use of the word, and a corresponding endeavor to apply it to the possession of those qualities by which property and rank ought to be accompanied. Thus, a meritorious story was called "John Halifax, Gentleman," the point of the title being that the hero was not a gentleman really, but only morally. Between the exclusively technical and the exclusively moral view of the word, the usage of society has struck a sort of balance, so that when we speak of a “gentleman" in the present day, we virtually assert that certain merits go together-that they usually belong to the members of certain classes-and that the person to whom the name is applied is both a member of the class and a possessor of the merits in question. What these merits are, and how far they really do belong to a few classes of society, are curious questions. The first can be answered only by attention to the common use of language; and this gives a strange result. This is a fair illustration of the process by Some of the acts which are considered as which most of the transient phases of society ungentleman-like belong to the greater and are at once described and recorded, and it is others to the lesser morals; but though constantly being applied to almost every sub- many well-meaning persons like to make out ject which is at once interesting and indefi- that whatever is wrong is also vulgar, the nite. Dean Trench's well-known volume common use of language does not warrant about Words abounds in curious instances of them in thinking so. To tell a wilful lie is it. Most of us know how "Pagan" meant, at once very wicked and very ungentlemanfirst, a countryman-then a countryman who like, and the same might probably be said of still retained the idolatry which had been most forms of stealing; but no one would banished from the towns-and, lastly, an say that there was any thing particularly reidolator without reference to his local habita- pugnant to the character of a gentleman in tion. Curious as such words are in a literary arson, or murder, or cruelty to animals. and historical point of view, it is still more Adultery and seduction would certainly be curious to watch and to try to understand ungentleman-like in so far as they involved the changes which are actually in progress either breach of special confidence or gross under our own eyes, and to attempt to ascer-specific fraud or falsehood, but not otherwise, tain the point in their history which particular words in general use and of wide application have actually reached. Hardly any word affords so good an example of this as the word "gentleman" as it is now used. In its infancy, as every one knows, it meant merely to affirm of the person to whom it was applied the possession of a particular pedigree. At present it is used in what may almost be called a miscellaneous manner, for it bears at once several different meanings, each of which is more or less connected with its original signification. Its most cbvious meaning is still that which makes it a mere term of dignity. In this sense, a man is a gentleman who has either a certain amount of independent property or who holds a certain official or professional rank; but, inasmuch as the word is felt to imply personal superiority, and inasmuch as no amount notwithstanding their moral enormity. Perhaps the most singular illustration arises in the case of offences in the use of language. It is one of the most common of all arguments against profane swearing that, besides being wrong, it is very vulgar; but though there is a certain degree of truth in this, it is only true under a very important limitation. If a man were, on all occasions and in all societies, to interlard his conversation with profane oaths, he would certainly act in a very vulgar way; but it is not vulgar, though it is certainly wrong, to swear upon provocation, in moderation, and in the society of those who are not likely to be annoyed by it. In the minor morals there is the same kind of apparent confusion. There is nothing ungentleman-like in ill-nature or selfishness, carried to the utmost length and persisted in with the utmost virulence, though It may be said that this is mere caprice, and that such distinctions-which are but specimens of a very numerous class-rest upon no principle whatever. But this is not the case. there certainly are particular manifestations severe-indulgent to faults which do not imof each of these faults which deserve that mediately interfere with social enjoyment, or reproach. A man might be a thorough gen- of which the pleasant consequences are imtleman who was in the habit of systemati- mediate, and the unpleasant ones remote, cally mortifying and wounding others by sar- and severe upon every thing which tends to castic exposures of their folly or ignorance, make the act of association uncomfortable or but it would be inconsistent with the charac- insecure. This explains the reason why lying ter of a gentleman to produce the very same and breaches of trust of all sorts are inconeffects by ridiculing a personal defect or a sistent with the character of a gentleman, domestic calamity. whilst incontinence and debauchery are not. It must be observed, however, that the moral element in the conception of the character of a gentleman is really moral, though it is partial. It stigmatizes lying, not merely because it is Almost all, if not all, the ques-unpleasant, nor merely because it is immoral, tions which can be raised upon the subject but because it is unpleasant, immoral, and may be solved upon a single principle. inartistic at one and the same time. These When people are in the habit of associating considerations tend rather to explain what is together, they inevitably, though uncon- meant by the spirit of a gentlemam than sciously, set up a certain standard of conduct, what conduct is specifically gentleman-like. conformity with which is a condition of being The solution of that question depends not so a member of the society. This standard is much upon the standard of conduct set up not fixed with exclusive reference to any one by society as upon its laws of conduct. A element of human nature, but embraces all man who has but little sympathy with the those which are concerned in the objects of one may pass muster well enough by obserythe association. Those who sympathize with ing the other. The laws of society apply the temper of the society often imbibe thor- rather to the minor than to the greater oughly the spirit of this standard, and con- morals, and, like all other laws, they are stantly show its influence in their conduct. capable of being observed almost mechaniSocieties, however, whatever may be their cally and by mere abstinence. There are, object, have not only a pervading tone and for example, a great number of social rules temper, but have almost always definite laws, which are founded upon the principle that which are of more or less importance accord- social intercourse implies respect. Thus it ing to the ends to which they are directed; is against all the laws of civilized society to and a man may implicitly and habitually call a man names, and it is against the spirit obey them without entering in any degree of civilized society on most occasions to give into the spirit in accordance with which they him pain. A man who said ill-natured things were framed, just as a judge might rigorously might be a worse man than one who called carry into execution laws of which he entirely his neighbor a fool or a liar, but he would disapproved, or as a secretary might put into have kept the law, whilst the other would shape reasonings or conclusions which he have broken it. This explains why many considered altogether absurd. trifles are ungentleman-like, whilst many serious offences are not. These remarks apply to all associations whatever. But they will throw considerable It appears from all this that a real, though light upon the different questions suggested not perhaps a very definite, meaning can be above, and upon others of the same kind, if attached to one of the assertions which, as what is in popular language called "society "has been observed, is included under the is considered as an association of a number word gentleman-the assertion, namely, that of different people, not for purposes of busi-a certain set of good qualities usually go toness, or of direct advantage, but for the sake gether. Whether the second assertion which of enjoying the pleasure of each other's com- it includes is true-namely, that those qualipany. The general standard of conduct ties are characteristic of a particular class of which such an association would set up would society-is quite another question. It is one be partly moral, partly artistic, and partly in- which every one must answer for himself tellectual. It would be somewhat narrow in from his own experience. Perhaps the opinits range, embracing only those departments ion which is at once the most charitable and of life which come frequently into view, and the least extravagant is, that though there would thus have little or no application to is no position in life in which a man may strange, occasional actions, like murder or not be a gentleman if he has it in him, there arson, which tend not so much to disturb the is also none which makes him one of itself, harmony of social intercourse as to put an and not many which are very favorable to end to it altogether. It is natural that it his being one. should be a standard at once indulgent and/ MY FIFTIETH BIRTHDAY. I USED to think, when I, a child, That rolled before my father's door, I looked at grandma as she sat, Her forehead decked with silvery rime, A white frilled cap around my face, The lines of care, the sigh of pain, The "Hush!" her lips so oft let fall, Would ofttimes join our sports and mirth; Nor make a spring-time of the hours. And threw my playthings all away. The glen in spring, for violets blue, Take weary naps in midday hours, Upon the hillside, rustling brown, And shout the rich ripe clusters down? I thought 'twere better not to be. Till now I'm fifty-now I'm old. Spectacles lie upon my nose, But no white frill looks prim and cold; My gray hair curls-I wear pink bowsI do not feel so very old. To play among the pebbles, I Would love, on that familiar shore, I'd like to go a-nutting now, And gather violets in the glen And wreathe the wild flowers round my brow, I'd like to slide upon the pond, To watch the old mill struggling there In icy chains, while all beyond Was one broad mirror, cold and glare. I'd like to see the noisy school, Let out a-nooning, as of old, Play "Lost my glove," and "Mind the rule;" My heart throbs quick-it is not cold. I hear the cry of Kate and Jane, Of Lottie, Lina, Helen and SueAh, yes! (I'll own it) in between Come George, and Dan, and William, too. I see no gloom in ripening years; Of silvery stream and woodland hill. Than childhood's play, with all its zest, And "bonnie lassies" laughing free, For woodland walks and violets blue, Have never chilled my spirit's flow, Than in the spring-time long ago. To make it all seem smooth and sweet. I know they'll greet me when I come. At every winding of the way, I've sought for love, and love have given ; For love can cheer the darkest day, And make the poorest home a heaven. O ye who're passing down, like me, Life's autumn side, be brave and strong, And teach the lisper at your knee That fifty years is not so long; Broken and shattered o'er and o'er, Gives forth a loftier, clearer song These fifty years which now are passed; Oh! guide me, guard me, till the fall Of death my form shall hide at last. Let me in love and kindness still Live on, nor e'er grow hard and cold; Bend me and break me to thy will, But may my spirit ne'er grow old! TRANS MARE. My spirit droops beneath these unloved skies, Trod by the shining feet of many rills; Yea! lovely as the new-made earth of God, When through its unpressed grass the first flowers sprung, Ere yet its silent valleys had been trod. Fair its dark woodlands sweep unto the sea, Cresting the low, soft hills with their green crowns, Through a most liquid azure sailing free The white clouds swim above the sunny downs. And there are rivers rushing like wild steeds, Tossing the white foam far, their floating manes; And soft the night-winds murmur through the reeds, And bend the long grass rippling o'er the plains. Starts from the forest path, the shy, fleet fawn. Brushing the heavy dew from strange wild flowers; And glows warm summer over lake and lawn, Not with the half-veiled loveliness of ours. But oh! 'tis all too present, and too real: No memories crown the green and gorgeous land, No magic shadows from the old ideal Haunt the lone vale-the mountain gorges grand; Floats o'er the bosom of the fair blue lake No Dryads linger in the scented woods, Nor long it listens with undoubting eyes, Nor long they weep above the leaves that shade This is the twilight land of thought, whereon A soiled and ragged selvage on the shore. O dreamer! make not here thy rapt delay. Or watch the pallid glory of a star, THE RETURNED LETTERS. I. ENUL. How she strives her grief to smother! Till at last there comes a letter: 'Tis her own, she traces there,Better she had died,-far better,"Gone away, and not known where." II. From her home across the ocean, Blotted with repentant tears, Writes the daughter her emotion How she turns to earlier years; Back her letter, torn and riven, From The Saturday Review. THE HUNTING-GROUNDS OF THE OLD WORLD.* hand across his eyes, rushed into the jungle, saying, 'Do not let him linger.' When his back was turned I placed the muzzle of my pistol to the suffering animal's temple, and pulled the trigger." THE sporting recollections of the gentleman who, with a modesty which appears to be somewhat superfluous, conceals his name under the initials H. A. L., are even more extensive and diversified than is usually the case with Indian officers. They extend not only over all parts of India, but to Circassia and Algeria; and they conclude, appropriately enough, with a chapter upon the use and different descriptions of fire-arms. H. A. L.'s style is less simple, and aims rather more at fine writing, than that of most of his fellow-sportsmen; but on the whole his book is exceedingly amusing, and its blemishes are very few and very pardonable. Since the year 184-,- for he seems as modest about the precise dates as he is about his name, he has been a hunter, constantly growing by practice mightier and mightier. His earlier feats were performed upon sambur or jungle deer, which are not unlike the Scotch red deer, except that they are considerably larger. Some of these he contrived, with the assistance of a friend, to shoot, by way of initiation into Indian sporting. His account of the pursuit of them reads very like parts of Fenimore Cooper's novels, as the deer have to be followed with all sorts of precautions through jungles which are al-abled him, whilst a second laid him dead. most impassable, and in which the track is followed up with a tact only attainable either by practice so early and continuous as to resemble an instinct, or by long and careful study and observation. Boars introduce the subject of tigers; and H. A. L., like Captain Shakespear, whose work we recently noticed, has a great deal to say upon that subject. He has the satisfaction of being able to recollect that he put to death a confirmed man-eater, which was supposed to have devoured about a hundred persons, and was proved to have killed twenty-two, as parts of that number of bodies were found in his lair by H. A. L. and his companions who beat the jungle for him. The sight was one of the most revolting that could possibly be witnessed. The comments of the party appear to have been singularly characteristic. "What a fearfully sickening sight it is,” said the first. "I wish we had brought some beer with us," added the second. "Poor woman," remarked the third; "here is a lock of her hair I found sticking to my boot. I shall keep it." A day or two afterwards H. A. L. went alone in the evening to a place where the tiger was in the habit of springing on passers-by, and was fortunate enough to attract his attention. The man-eater sprung into the path close by him, and was met by a rifle ball which dis Another tiger was at any rate somewhat more fortunate in his death-in so far, that is, as it can be considered a comfort to be revenged of one's enemies in such a case. He struck down one of H. A. L.'s native From deer H. A. L., promoted himself to servants and killed him on the stop, immewild boars, which are ridden upon with diately after which he was himself shot spears, after a fashion which can only be through the head. The hunt at which this compared to fox-hunting without hounds incident took place is excellently described. the fox being replaced by an animal which H. A. L., with a friend and his native seris perfectly qualified, both by his strength vants, encamped for a day or two near a and by his fierceness, to put both the men large pool formed by a mountain stream deand the horses who pursue him into the scending from the Neilgherry hills, which most imminent danger. On one occasion, was the resort of all the animals of the the horse of one of H. A. L.'s companions neighboring forest for the purpose of drinkwas cut down by the rush of a boar which ing. A sort of hut was erected on the top had just received a spear through the loins, of a huge black boulder ten feet high, in such and the painful duty of shooting him de- a manner that the rifles commanded all apvolved on H. A. L. himself. The story is proaches, either to the rock or the pool. All told in a really affecting manner. "I saw at day and all night the pool was visited by difa glance that it was a hopeless case, and tap- ferent birds and beasts, each animal selectping N on the shoulder, I gave a signif-ing its appropriate time. At midday all aniicant look to the small pistol that I always carried loaded in my belt. The poor animal, in spite of his agony, recognized his master, for he raised himself up partly from the ground, and rubbed his nose against his shoulder in a most affectionate manner. N kissed his forehead, and passing his *The Hunting-Grounds of the Old World. By the "Old Shekarry," H. A. L. London: Saunders, Otley, and Co. 1860. mated nature appears to be overcome by the fierce heat; but as the day wears on, butterflies flutter about, whilst bees, beetles, and myriads of insects keep up a perpetual hum, which "produces an effect singularly strange, soothing, and dreamy." This sound is varied at times by the cries of peacocks and jungle fowl, the chattering of monkeys, and the screams of paroquets. Towards evening the birds return homeward from their feed |