vinous fermentation, a process that all native sugar-bearing juices undergo when kept for some time at an ordinary temperature. In the process carbonic acid gas is liberated (as the chemists quaintly say), yeast is formed and rises to the surface as a scum. The action increases in violence until it reaches a climax, after which it gradually ceases; the scum is skimmed off, the turbid liquor clarifies and has the characteristic taste of wine. The sugar has disappeared and alcohol has been formed. Wine may be obtained from many fruits, such as the gooseberry, the blackberry, the elderberry, the apple, the damson, the red, black, and white currant. Raspberries yield a vinegar, and wines are prepared from ginger and parsnips. But these so-called wines require to be fortified by the addition of spirit. The real wine-producing fruit is the grape, and "wine" in ordinary language means fermented grape-juice.

The ancient Greeks almost always drank wine diluted with water, and highly esteemed the wines of Syracuse in Sicily. The wines of modern Greece are strong and full-bodied; they are roughly made, but improve considerably with age; it is said that they taste of resin. Nor are the wines of Italy, Portugal, and the Cape of Good Hope made with any great care. The wines of the island of Cyprus, which are rich in tannin, were introduced into Europe by the Knights Templar. Hungary produces Magyar sherries, Slavonian clarets, and various red wines of the character of French burgundy. Vines were introduced into England by the Romans, and in the days of their occupation there were vineyards even in the north, and many English monasteries made their own wine. the present day the vine is not cultivated at a higher latitude than Bavaria.

At

When the wines of the Rhine, of France, and of Spain had been introduced into Britain, Englishmen became good customers, and the clarets of Bordeaux were freely exported to Bristol and London long before Frenchmen generally began to appreciate them. Sherry comes from the Xeres district of Spain, and, being a somewhat expensive wine, is not drunk by the Spanish, but is made to sell to foreigners. After port-wine became known in England it remained for a long time the orthodox after-dinner wine of wellto-do Britons; later, Madeira became very

fashionable, until the destruction of the vines in that island stopped the production of the wine, which, great as was its reputation in America in colonial times, is now rarely heard of. The wines of the British colonies in Australia have, since the Indo-Colonial Exposition in London, won a permanent place upon the British market; and the wines of California are establishing a reputation in the Eastern States and in Europe.

But men having discovered that the inebriating element in all liquors is alcohol, presently desired stronger and more fiery drinks than malt liquors, wines, and such mild beverages. The name alcohol is Arabian: Al is the article, and cohl means anything sublimated. Distillation is supposed to have been known to the Chaldees, and by them transmitted to the Tartars. It is probable that strong waters were known to the Jews, but some of these were not properly distillates, but merely wines concentrated by boiling and adding sugar, as metheglin. The first alcohol in Europe came from the Levant, being imported by Genoese and Venetian merchants; it was sold to Flemish and other traders under the name of eau de vie. Spirits were not cheap in Europe till the end of the sixteenth century, when a spirit flavored with juniper berries and called genièvre became generally known. The name was corrupted into "Geneva » from a mistaken idea as to the place of its manufacture, and then curtailed into "gin." It was largely manufactured in the low countries, and was brought in by soldiers who had fought in Flanders. It is distilled from oats or potatoes, and is ready to drink as soon as made. A well-known brand of gin is "Old Tom.” The name is supposed to be derived from a favorite tomcat which, looking for mice along the tops of the vats, fell into one and was drowned. The gin from the vat into which he fell had a peculiarly pleasant flavor, the source of which was not suspected until, the vat being emptied, the skeleton of the cat was discovered.

Whiskey is much drunk in all Englishspeaking countries, neat, or mixed with water or aërated waters, and may be termed the national drink of Scotland and Ireland. The name comes from uisgebaugh, and means water of life. Whiskey may be prepared from any grain, from oats, barley, wheat, maize or rye. The best Scotch whiskey is made from malt,

and has a smoky taste, originally due to the use of peat as a fuel in its distillation, but now communicated artificially.

Jamaica rum is made from sugar-cane molasses, and when fresh is pumped to the top storey of a warehouse several stories high; from this storey to the next it is permitted to percolate through a hole in the cask; thence to the next below, and so on. This process tends to rid it of the dangerous fusel oil, and to mature it. Eau de vie, or brandy, is a French spirit distilled from wine; the finer varieties are called cognac. But the most remarkable French drink is absinthe, a strong spirituous liquor made from wormwood and other aromatic plants; when water is added to it it becomes cloudy. It is, perhaps, the most disastrous of all liquors in its effects upon those who drink it. It causes epileptic fits and a curious incurable disease of the brain.

The national drink of Japan is sakế, the brewing of which, according to Japanese records, began in the third century. Saké, as well as the Chinese samshu, is prepared in various strengths from rice. It is often flavored with spices and has a highly intoxicating effect.

Mescal is a strong intoxicant much drunk in Mexico; it is a distillate from pulque, the juice of the maguey. The Mexicans also distil from sugar-cane a strong rum, appropriately named aguardi ente or burning water.

The northern nations of Europe are harder drinkers than the southern. In the wine-growing districts of France and Hungary the laborer rarely drinks anything stronger than the wines of the country, with which he is supplied by his employer; but the Russian drinks vodka, a strong rye-spirit; the Pole, the Swede, and the Norwegian look upon corn-brandy as a necessary of life, and the consumption of gin by the London poor is enormous.

The natives of Alaska distil a fiery raw spirit from molasses or sugar, with flour, yeast, and potatoes. Their stills are of a very primitive type, generally consisting of an old kerosene can and a musketbarrel; for the latter they often substitute the long hollow stem of a certain kind of seaweed. The American customs officers do what they can to suppress the manufacture of this spirit, which is called hoochinoo, for, whenever any considerable quantity of it has been prepared by the Indians, a wild orgy is the result. But

the stills are set up in caves and forests, and are very carefully concealed.

Perhaps the most singular drinks are those produced by the mastication of certain roots. Of this sort is the Marquesan islander's aroo, obtained from masticated cocoanuts, which are chewed and spit out into a bowl. The bowl is filled up with water, its contents are stirred up and allowed to settle. Another drink of the South Sea islander is ava, made from avaroot, and common at all Fijian ceremonies. After it has been chewed, and water poured on it, the liquid is strained into an immense wooden bowl, the avamaker and his companions singing all the while. It is a rule that the ava-chewers must have clean and sound teeth, and they are liable to punishment if they swallow any of the precious juice. In Guiana a liquor called picvoree is made from cassava-bread, and in Chili and Brazil chica is prepared from maize-dough, thoroughly chewed by old women.

When we observe how almost every natural production that can be made to yield an intoxicating drink is pressed into man's service, and forced to do its best, or worst, we are strongly impressed with the futility of all schemes for rendering men total abstainers. That man, being man, will run after strong drink seems indisputably certain; so long, therefore, as his nature remains essentially what it is, it seems best to try to get him to drink wholesome liquors moderately. The golden rule in drinking as in other things is "Nothing in Excess."

ARTHUR INKERSLEY.

WHEN it comes to be realized by the great majority of the universe that severity and harshness are usually the result of a poverty of intellect that fails to comprehend human nature, and that charity, sympathy, gentleness, and good feeling are the sure fruits, not only of a kindly heart, but of an educated brain, a long step will have been taken towards the increase of human welfare and happiness.

IT IS quite possible to go through an endless variety of experiences, to suffer deeply and enjoy keenly, to see all the countries of the world, to hear what great men have to say, and to live to a good old age with a past full of stirring occurrences, and yet have very little to add to the wisdom, or knowledge, or interest of mankind. It is not a man's actual experience, but that which he has gained from it, that determines its value to himself and, through him, to society.

S

TYLE comes the nearest to being the

man reconstructed by himself - the man repeated and reduplicated. We know Webster, Choate, Lincoln, and Sumner, by the way their sentences are constructed, and surely no one would mistake Thackeray for Dickens, or either one for Scott. I have seen a pleasant challenge in college days, when short passages were read from a score of standard English authors, with the aim of tripping a good scholar as to their origin. And I have known a few young fellows of even twenty whom you would rarely find mistaken. No matter if they had not read the given passage-it was the style, the form, and not the matter, that gave them instantly a cue to the author. I could wish that this fine knowledge of English, and acquaintance with English authors, were more general.

With

This power of knowing men by their style is increased, if once or more we have heard them, or even seen them. I am sure that to have heard Wendell Phillips would much more than double the pleasure of reading, and the influence to be derived from a study of, his orations. I cannot say the same of Webster; for, rotund, grand, majestic as he was, his style stands alone, unique in literature, and quite as majestic as himself. the older English authors we must form acquaintance purely through their books. Yet this intimacy may be very close, so that one may feel that the author is his friend and companion. Whoever has at favorite author, if he analyzes his feelings, will find that it is not altogether the matter or thought that has charmed him, but the style. It is like the tone of a friend's voice. It is his way of putting things that arrests one, and really we may not much care what he is talking about, we like him anyway.

The formation of style is, therefore, quite a thing beyond our power. A man of strong characteristics will have a necessary style. He must be himself in what he says, and in the way he says it. The classic ideals are well enough, because to study Cicero, or even the somewhat too precise style of the Addison school, will help us to restrain our eccentricities; yet we must, in the end, be ourselves. It is not quite unlike the hand

writing, which, however, for awhile conforming to Spencerian rules, will break loose when the brain begins to work, and it will affirm who is behind it. It is clear that our heredity must go not only into our speech, but into our writings. It is still farther a provable fact that nationality and locality shape our expression.

Versatility is a gift, but it is also a matter of culture. A man may be versatile in his power of handling a wide range of topics; he may, also, be versatile in his power to adapt himself to the mode of expression best adapted to each topic. Miss Murfree well concealed herself in the firm masculinity of her style — or what passes for the masculine; I mean strength of outlining and vigor of sentiment; but her style is always one. Grant Allen is an instance of the other sort; a man capable of quite concealing his own personality his recognized self. Had Gladstone signed his magazine articles by a pseudonym, he would probably not have been discoverable, unless by his expressed love of Greek character, life, and literature. Dickens's versatility lay in his sentiment, which played through a wide range, from contemptuous sarcasm and masculine love, to very tender and simple pathos and woman-gentleness. One of our American authors of note finds it impossible to write a book, or even a magazine article, without a covert sneer. He is chaffing either the reader or the subject. Another may be readily known by his pert women. He cannot get on at all without a mean, or in some way disagreeable, woman. These are not characteristics that go alone. They affect the style altogether. American style has been as peculiarly national a growth as features, social customs, and political institutions. A good study you will find in Tyler's "History of American Literature" so far, at least, as the history is completed.

Our

The colonists developed a manner of expression less mannerly and sycophantic than that which had long been current in England. They had no nobles to win as patrons. They came to America for freedom. They wrote and spoke with peculiar boldness and a touch of defiance. Tyler tells us that "the first lispings of American literature were heard along the

speech in defence of Americans. "The gentleman tells us America is obstinate; America is almost in open rebellion. I rejoice that America has resisted. Three millions of people so dead to all feelings of liberty as voluntarily to submit to be slaves would have been fit instruments to make slaves of the rest. I know the valor of your troops. I know the skill of your officers. In such a cause your success would be hazardous. America, if she

fell, would fall like the strong man, she would embrace the pillars of state and pull down the Constitution with her." This is all nerve, and stroke follows stroke, sharp and quick; and the victory is won by repeated blows, rather than by one great effort. You would say, if you did not know to the contrary, that this was the American, and Webster the cooler phlegmatic Englishman.

Henry Ward Beecher combined more of the elements of an American sort than any other orator we ever heard- that is, he was not American from one side only, but from all sides. His humor was American; his offhand method was American; his appeals to common sense were American; his tenderness of sentiment was American; his flexibility and versatility were American. His style had that charm which one gathers in nature from light and shade, from the rapid chasing of cloud shadows over a valley. George William Curtis says of him: "His power over the emotions of an audience was unsurpassed in this country, probably since Patrick Henry. Thomas Corwin and Seargent Prentiss were as great masters of humor and patriotic appeal upon the stump, but Beecher added to these a pathos, sentiment and poetic tone in which the others did not excel. Our greatest living American orator is Robert Ingersoll. In many respects he is another Beecher, but a somewhat exaggerated Beecher. He has more thoroughness, more liberty, but not more courage, and not so exquisite a power of poetic instinct. He is blunter and more true to conviction; sees more clearly, but feels less keenly than Beecher. We are sure to produce more men of this type. Our Declaration of Independence, in one form or another, is always on our lips. Just now it is the independence of antiquated science and its superincumbent theology that we are insisting on. I have in my life one great regret, that I never heard

Tom Corwin. Him I believe to have been, all in all, the completest American. But these four would rank together in style: Henry, Corwin, Beecher, Ingersoll. »

The study of persons is far more likely to enlarge our power than the study of style; for the person is the living style. I have among my acquaintances a man of considerable genius, who can conform his method of expression to any one of the noted men he has known. He tells me he is sometimes half-possessed with the notion that he is, as the spiritualists say, observed. He has the habit of fixing his mind on any one such man of genius, until he sees him and hears him, and is, as we say, conscious of him- en rapport with him. His sentences then begin to conform to the man of whom he thinks. I believe many of us have considerable of this power, and that whatever of versatility we possess is this ability to think in sympathy with a character.

Did you ever see a person when walking involuntarily imitate the step and manner, even the oddities, of those in front of him. Perhaps if you carefully consider yourself, the next time you indulge in pedestrianism, you will find you. are doing this very thing and it is very quiet sometimes, as well as very perplexing. You will swing your arms like one, hold them a little akimbo like another, limp a trifle like a third, or hitch the thighs. So take care or you may do some very odd thing. I do not wish to make you uneasy about your ways, and spoil the pleasure of your promenades on the avenue, but I want you to see how easily one can imitate the physical style. There is more monkey in man than there is man in monkey. This is how we adopt the style of a man's mental expression. It is not supernaturally done, but most naturally, and the trouble is to avoid it. A minister that I know well tells me he has struck out many a passage from his discourses, imagining, from the style, he had stolen them, and dreading a charge of plagiarism. "Yet," he adds, "I think they are all my own children.»

Voluntary imitation of others is, I think, more difficult than involuntary. No such successful attempt was ever made, before or since, as that by Horace and James Smith in their "Rejected Addresses" and in "Warreniana." The list of accurately but humorously imitated authors includes