Lae pp, ‘i age area sl oe / hin Bas . sal aoe - . Piis is true Liberty, when Free Born Men, having to advise the Public, may speak free.”—FEvcxivives. ini . estan ranean SS SINGLE Corres Two CEnTs. AY iN W ‘ ‘ % A a 7 4 ¢ Davy Examiner Ce einen eae ST UTeRTAT UN) ALMANAC FUN UL & YEA wv. , . 3 ie i T 1 FuUDI'sulbg Go: f Water and ctetown, : i, CHARLOTTETOWN, P. E. ISLAND, TREMENUQUS SLAUGHTER. a (ae RIPTION— | - . EFS ft 3 “as GLEA IG ui SAL B , mm ithly, quar- ' Wh B. Na, y advertisements, UEMBER, 1886, First Quarter i 10h. 12.5m., a. m,, ' Full Moon lOth bs eae 4 m., W. 3 ] ) rj , 2h., 26.6m., a.m.,8. EB. “4 New Mon 25 bh, 42.1m., a. m., N. E. * +} : zs AY OF WEEK . Pe an _ — Day Ni ts rises water} len’h mimorn faftrn h m | Wednesday i 284 Sill 44) 1 51: 8 41 2 tm Lay } Siaft 16; 2 3 39 >I y ; : 0 43; 3 2! 38 is rday 91 1 9} 4 23 37 iS lay ; 9} 1 34) 5 29 36 6' Monday ie 8} 1 59) 6 33 34 7| fuesd > 82261735 33 V ednesday ; S| 2 57| & @ 32 9 ] rsday 7 8° 3 31; § I0 Si 101} ¥ 3; «St 4 11 9 52! ~.30 li s ; sy ’ oS ‘ 53 10 33 29 12. Su \ ; tO S| 5 Sill 14 28 13) Monda Si 6 56)11 57 a7 14) ht la ! 8:8 Aaft 39 25 Is VW Lv : 9 9 10| 1 23 26 16) Tha y : 9110 27, 2 2| 2% 17 la i4 911 39: 3 5 25 Isis la + lOimorn! 4 13 25 1v sun : } ; 7) Dl g 31 24 20) Mouda 10} 2 02) 6 50 24 21) 1 7 il} 3.12; 7 7 25 22) W ecdne : 17 12} 4 22) 8 48 25 23) Thurs is 13] 5 28 ) 34 25 24) Fi is l 6 31/10 16 25 23| Saturd isi 1417291055, 2 25) Sunday 19) 15) 8 20)11 34 26 27| Monday i) 9 Smorn| 26 28 Tuesday } 7 47; 0 10 27 29 Wednesday 16}10 16 0 45 27 30\ Thursday i9} 17/10 50} 121; 28 $1! Friday 7 17'11 12; 2 O' 8 28 NOTICE. LL rsons ina A h novi iti the 15th day of DEVCE to Subscriber are iat all Accounts unpaid after MBER next, will be banded inte his attorney for immediate coHec- tion. J. B. MACDONALD. y & wky BAGS | Ch'town, Nor. 25, 1886 FRR 4 ” FUTATO aes 4 JUST REC EIVED, 5.000 shipping Bags. | WEEKS & BEER. TT = BOSTON. WitThR ARRSRGENUZNT THS PALACE O} STEAMERS rHk baTcRHAT ONAL S.S. CO. Leave &t. John for Boston, via Eastport and Port- land, every Monday, and Taursday at 8.00 a. m. Ware from Chariottetown to Boston, 36,50, 2nd ciass ; $9.50, Ist class. For tickets and other information apply to .. SHARP, éL or to your nearest Nov. 15, 1886—eod wky R'y., P. cece a ON et eee i, ARTE: , GEN fu! ji dissivd wees en ; ' 5 F. W. HALES, E. L. Steam Nav. Co. Ticket Agent. & CO, AL f oi : Harchants, (2) 4TLAifis AVENUE, B0sS8TON, MASS: —— i} iy > A ee, ee ne BARCLAY & UU, GENE | Commission & Soipplig Merchants, 22 Fancy dey Goods Atlautic Avenue, Beston tAL — — rienes , ivi Pal SH years’ expert £'4 Over fifty thouyant notatecs received by us l iel Verses ¢ fraghts at shori notica. ' por's x spe 1a Sied Potat A ned Labsters, Bers June 17, 36 -Smo ead ; in thie market. | i bushels P. E. I. ast fall. Onr patrons tharterel for potato Weite for morket o28, Mackerel, “an- i | donald’ Qe {ONTEMPLATING making extensive alterations in m) ) store, early in the new year, which will necessitate my closivg for some time, [ will | MY ENTIRE STOCK OF NOW dll ld | : ) es, rere en— STAPLE & FANGY DRY GOODS i RY C-L-O-T-H-I-N-G | AT A TREMENDOUS SACRIFICE. | Siecsoht dealt All the stock of Finey Dress Goods and Dress Cloths at 333 per cent discount. All the Cloths and Tweeds at a discount of 33) per cent. Knit Wool Goods, Shiwis and Manatles at 33 1-2 percent discount Grav, discount, Velvets, Plushes; Ribbon and all Millinery Goods at 33 1-2 per cent discount. All the stock of Men’sand 8oys Clothing. Gents’ Furnish- ings, Overcoats, Reefers und Suits at a discount of 33 1-2 per cent. All Cot'on Goods at a discount of 25 per cent. —_——_—_—0 The entire stock must be clearad before the first of the New Yeur. You can depend on getting the BEST BARGAINS ever offered in this city. Wes All Goods Sold tor CASH only, J. B. MACDONALD, ~ White and Scartet Flinnels at 33 1-2 per cent QUHHN STREET. FUR GOODS. o | LADIES’ Sleigh Robes, Astracan Jackets, Fur Coats, , Fur-lined Cloaks, Fur Caps, LOW PRICES. | Fur Tippets, | | Muffs, in Fur Gloves, —AL80— ; Seal, A large assortment of Beaver, Men’s Furnishings, | ; Otter, Shirts, : Persian Lamb, Collars, | Astracan, Cuffs, Monkey, Braces, Belgian Seai, &c. Hosiery, Ladies’ Caps, Ties, ‘Children’s Caps, Paramatta and Rubber Mutffs, &c. Coats, Very Large: Stock. a a Underelothing, &c., at Prices as Low as any in the trade, at Lowest Prices. Habe V wee oe HO STANLEY BROS. ’ Browa’s Bleck, Opposite Market House. Ch’'tuwn, Nov. 16, 1980-—dy & why SATURDAY, DECEMBER 11, 1886. | The Study of English Literature. That great and good man, Lord Macaulay, pronounced a beautiful panegyric upon our “nglish Literature, when he referred to it as ** that noble literature,the most splendid as well as the most durable of the many glories of England.” But he might just as truthfully and verhaps with greater emphasis, have declared it to be one great factor in the formation of “nglish character ; that which has for centur- ies been directing the channel of English thought and feeling; and which to-day stands pre-eminently the Lest index to English, life wil institutions. Away over the waters, looking out upon the stern wild bosom of the German Ocean, stands the mighty upland of Whitby. There, under the shadow of the grand old monestry of St. Hilda, more than 1200 years ego,Cw#dmon, the drst true English poet, sang the ‘ beginning of created things.” How many the years that have passed away since then ! and yet we still fee! the thrill of that very music which resound- el through the banqueting halls of KingOswin. fhe voice of the poet, indeed, is hushed, but the song still flows on, for we find that almost ten hundred years afterwards, the same strain which sounded its choral note in the para- phrase of Cedmon, and which had been re echoed through century after century, rose into the sublimity of melody when the Puritan poet of England sang the song of the loss of Paradise. Thus we see the continuity of Waglish verse, and they who, to-day, sing the yeauties of the English Language are only re-echoing in a higher and, let us hope, a purer strain, the melodies of the grand old masters of English poetry. Sut not alone in the region of poetry dq we ‘ind this continuity exemplified ; the same fact is equally observable in the sphere of prose. From the time of that illustrious Saxon, King Alfred, to his worthy successor, our beloved (Queen upon the throne, not a link is wanting in that chain which connects us with the prose of the past. Volume after volume has, within the past century,been added to the accumulat- ed millions of centuries; but the same spirit, the stern, patriotic,English nobleness,meets us alike in the histories of Beda and®Orsius, as in the more elaborate works of our ownHume, Robertson and Gibbon. It is the same in every other department of prose literature: and the fact that our English literatnre of to- ‘lay is the same literature, grown older, that was born upon the heights of Whitby, isa fact franght with ‘‘ mighty aud interesting. in- Huences” to the world at large, but espeeially to that lesser world with which we teachers wre more particularly concerned—the world of youth, with all its susceptibility and all its pliability. It is, then, with theZstudy of English literature, in its applicability to the school and the world that I wish to make a few remarks-—remarks which,I feel it my duty to explain, are founded upon a very shallow experience. Passing through the elite assemblies of foreign capitals, where the ‘pets of fortune’ gither round the festal board to do honor, it may be, to the departed great, one cannot but be struck by the brilliancy of the scene. The magnificence of splendor which crowns the occasion is not lost to the eye of the spectator. He fully enjoys the luxury of beholding, and vainly imagines that every detail of the wondrous panorama is indelibly imprinted up- on his mind. But let, in rapid suvcession, pageant succeed pageant, and festivity reign after festivity, let him dash down the cup with one hand, as he rushes to grasp anew the brimmining bowl with the other, and then, after time has lent a breathing space, let him go back into these scenes, and he will surely find that all he can gather of the past tourna- ments is but a glimmering of lights, diamonds and names. Thus, it seems to me, it is with the study of English Literature as it is pursued in our com- mon schools. Within the short period of a few months, the student gallops through suatches of song and fragments of prose, is in- troduced to one author here and another one éhere, reads selections from Burke, Addison, Goldsmith, Shakspeare, Byron, Mackenzie, anda host of other worthies, until he has practically exhausted the range of brilliant writers ; and when he comes forth from such a course of study as this, what does he really know about English Literature? Can he say that he has truly entered into the spirit of even one author? Does he know how to weep with this poet and laugh with that one; to love with the philosopher and hate with the misanthropist ; to roam with the traveler and experiment with the chemist; to soar with the astronomer and delve with the geologist ; can he, as it were, feel the feelings and think the thoughts ci the writer whom he is perus- ing? If not, then has he never truly entered upon the study of literature; he has been spending his time for that which is not, for he has never yet enjoyed that sweet commu- nion of sympathy whick kindred spirit holds with kindred spirit. He has only been whirl- ing, with lightning speed, through the hun- dred avenues of prose and verse, and he will surely come forth from the enchanted land with a mere glimmering of lights, diamonds and names—the toys, the trifles, the veriest foibles of literature. He has never felt him- self go out from himself, never lost himself amid the delights of fascinated imagination, never wandered into the mazes of another's making ; and until he has done so, he knows not how to study, or rather enjoy, literature. But surely such efforts as these are above the capacity of the common school student, and by the common school student I wish to be understood to mean any pupil who has per- fected himself in the subjects of the Fifth Grade. Are we not imposinga task upon him be- yond the powers of his immature mind? I think not. Were he to put atthe disposal of one, three, or even tive celebrated authors, the time and energy which he now expends in roaming over vast territories of prose and verse, how much more would it profit and instruct him? Besides, the labor would be far less difficult. How much easier is it to grasp the idea from a poem presented in its entirety than to do so from a mutilated fragment, and how much of the beauty, the individuality, the pretty con- nection, the. variety, the truth, of the work is lost sight of in the petty selection. I take up the Fifth Royal Reader, and the book opens at page 64—it is the ‘“ Parting of Marmion and Douglas.” Who wrote this poem? Sir Walter Scott. And this to the young student writing, without connection, without variety, without plot, is presented asa specimen of the great bard. He whose works are so cele- i brated for those very qualities, and who might so profitably and easily be studied in the whole, is to be cut up into little nothings, and set up for literary analysis. I protest against such injustice to the reader. I protest against such injustice to the author. Is there not j enough exercise for thought, enough beauty of expressive, of divtion, is Sir Walter Scott—this insignificant piece of; variety of construction, enough stern, practi- cal truth in a few of the most popular of our English Classics, that we should have to roam as beggars over almost the whole range of literature from Chaucer to Tennyson, and from Moore to Thomas Carlyle? I believe that in every work of literature, the student should be made fully acquainted with the cir- cumstances under which the work was writ- ten, with the feelings which called it forth, with the purpose for which it was intended, with the life of the person who wrote it, and lastly, but of course more par- ticularly, with the work itself. Any course of literary study that does not admit of its subjects being thus minutely handled, fails in its true object, and I fear is lit- tle less than a waste of time. In the light then of this conviction, I am unable to see how any student can, within the short time allotted to him, become fully acquainted with the literary selections of the Fifth Royal Reader ; I fail to see how he can obtain but a superticial, and for that reason, a very dan- gerous knowledge of the subject matter cf that book. The area over which he has travel is not only great, but he is met at every pace by new scenes and strange faces, and it would be little surprising indeed if, even at the last, he still finds himself amid new scenes and strange faces. Nor to. the student of the Sixth Royal Reader am I able to give much more encour- agement. Before he can enter upon any ex- tract that bears the slightest resemblance to a completed whole, he must have threaded his weary way through no fewer than thirty-three different selections, and when, at length, he emerges from this literary mixture, how is he rewarded? He is rewarded by having set be- fore hima selection, which, in comparison with the grand original, is but a barren, shriv- elled, cut up mixture of disconnected prose and verse. And thisis the young student's share of the ‘Lady of the Lake’—a work which literary criticism has pronounced to be replete with all the grace, the beauty, the ro- mance, the truth of poetic narration. 3ut the compilers of this reader have made one more desperate effurt to present the young student with a classic, and have succeeded ad- mirably in mutilating the Play of King John to their own satisfaction. The reader is plunged, without introduction, without bio- graphical explanations, without proper histori- cal references, into the middle scene of -the middle act of that complicated play, and _piti- lessly left to struggle and gasp there until with the aid of history and his own fertile imagination, he reaches terra firma. In the year 1199, there leaped upon the his- torical stage, a proud, ambitious woman. Men called her queen, the King of England called her mother, and a mother she was whose influence died not with her death. Where does she appear in the Play of King John which is given tous? Not there. The tempest of war rages in all its fury beneath the walls of Angiers, and Frenchman and Eng- lishman are locked in a deadly struggle. But hark ! a truce is sounded. The roar of can- non ceases. A weddi is proclaimed, and the loveless union of prince and princess con- firms the peace of two treacherous monarchs. A cry of anguish rises from the mother heart of loving Constance. She feels that her worst fears are being realized. Majestically, she looks down upon her gloating conquerors, alone in her grief, alone in her purity. This angelic being, this sweet personification of motherly love and motherly grief, floats through the whole play as almost the only presence of human virtue and beauty. And yet, in our fragment, she is merely allowed, ere she disappears forever, to utter a few heart-rending remarks about grief, while the beautiful Blanche is not vouchsaved even one word. And why are these things so? Is it be- cause no further connection is required in any extract than such as will permit it to be taken as an exercise in grammar? Can nothing be fitter or more ennobling in the study of be lish literature than the process of tearing this poem apart into clauses and breaking that one up into little parts of speech ? Or, is it prac- tically impossible to make literature serve higher ends than those it does in our present torturing system of parsing and analysing? Well, strange and daring as the remark may appear to the learned compilers of our Royal Readers, I venture to say that it is possible— that is, if instead of the hundreds of little bits of literature that are annually doled out to students, they were kindly permitted to spend their time and energy upon a few of the masterpieces of our master minds. It might then perhaps become possible for them to get some idea of beauties of diction and _ correct- ness of thought ; to know something about the pleasures of imagination and the delightful peace that arises from the contemplation of truth. Now, however, it is an indisputable fact that the average literary accomplish- ments of our common school student consist in a bare knowledge of the names of some of our popular authors, afew dry facts in their lives, and a very insignificant list of definitions. Perhaps I should also include a somewhat jumbled idea of countless little mutilated fragments of literature. But further I dare not go. Indeed, to suit the majority of instances, it is probable that I have already granted too much, but even the best case is a sufficient exposure of pitiable lack of literary knowledge. Just here, however, in order to arrive at the root of the matter, it may very properly be asked if there should not be be- hind every young student, a spirit, and that spirit a living, moving, teacher, who would the reader a reality. Ihave all faith in the powers of an honest energetic teacher; but I ary fragments as the teacher has ‘o deal with in the advanced Royal Readers. this subject, however, in somewhat of a differ- ent light, are the remarks of a late writer in the Educational Weekly; and I will quote his advice for the information of the fraternity. With far-seeing sagacity and noble generosity poor ignorant teachers that if we ish to ob- of Marmion and Douglass,” all we have to do is to read Sir Walter Scott's poem of ‘‘Mar- mion.” Who can estimate the Coutts and the breath, the heighth and the depth of such valuable information? I suppose, in the same way, if we wish eee to understand ‘‘The Death of Kittle Nell” and ‘‘The Saxon and the Gael,” we have only to read Charles Dickens “Old Curiosity Shop” and Scott's ‘‘Lady of the Lake.” And so, to become acquainted with the literary selections of the Fifth Royal Reader, it will merely be necessary for us to peruse some hundred or so different works,after whick we way perhaps, consider ourselves competent to teach that book. The advice is, without doubt, most splendid; but J need not pursue at¥urility furthtr: The fact is have no faith in impossibilities, and I consider | also, and more especially, a picture of the p it next to impossible to vitalize so many liter-| ent. Presenting | sured of mind, this correspondent kindly informs us, tain a good idea of the story of the ‘ Parting’! VOL. 19.—NO. 162. strikingly evident that a change is unavoid- able, that s6mething is necessary, which we do not now possess, ere the teacher can pro- perly perform his duties in the subject of literature, before he can educate student into a true taste for literature, brin him up in the principles of Composition Rhetoric, and send him forth tnto the “and with an enthusiastic desire for literary and that something 1 believe to be not more enlightened teachers as proper le 7 | wherewith to study literature. > All literature may be classed unde heads, ‘‘Prose” and ‘*Poetry;” and these may be sub-divided into numerous speci: jects of which Elocution, History an. ANd graphy,are those which most particular! , cern the common schoo! student, ai; him alone these remarks are int xv to apply. J Under the heading of Elocution are incl: , our @dinary reading books, and certa these, so far as the advanced pupil is cone ed, are wretchedly unsuited to the ends which they must have been intended. Lit«, ture is not a mere collection of words and s tences upon some particular subject. [t i medium of printed characters, very often 4 voice from the dead. It is the exponent of some great mind, and therefore we cannet properly enter upon the study of the work until we know the history of the mind that wronght it. Biography then should take the first place in any series of advanced reading book. Indeed, it is surprising, considering, the many noble lessons that may be gleaned from the experiences of even our meanest citizen, that biography has not long since be- come a leading study in our schools, while the fact of the matter is that it has no place whatever in our curriculum. But to the sub- ject. If, for instance, Lord Macaulay be the author under consideration, first give the student some idea of the man himself. Let him know Lord Macaulay from the time when a child of four years old he sat on the nursery floor, with a piece of bread in one hand and a history of the world in the other, until he sees him as the world thirty years ago saw him—‘‘A man who could do many things well”-—one who honorably acquitted himself as a statesman, an orator, a poet, an essayist and an historian. Then will the reader sit down with a hearty pleasure, a zealous delight, to pore over anything that comes from the pen of the grcat Macaulay. The next thing is to select; and with regard to this matter 1 would sav whatever extracts be chosen, let them at least be comprehen- sive enough to give a true likeness of the author's mind, let them be complete in them- selves, and be accompanied by such explau- ations as will enable the students to read them with pleasure and with profit. It will be necessary to inform him when they were written, under what circumstances they were written, why they were written and how they have achieved their ends. In fact, everything regarding their production which will be o true assistance to the reader should be freely and cheerfully given. With regard to Mac- aulay, three or four of his finest essays,a strik- ing chapter from his history, and a few choice poems will, ] think, afford admirable literary food for the student,and Swill sufficiently illus- trate the peculiar style and practical erucition of this celebrated writer. Then, with the aid of such knowledge as has been indicated above, the reader will come forth from the study of these selections really knowing some thing about them; and when, in like manner, he has treated not only Lord Macauiay, but for example, Scott, Lamb, Tennyson, Burns, Smith and Thos. Carlyle, he will find that he has not been spending his time for nought, that he has unconsciously acquired the art of discrim- inating between the false and the true in lit- erature, that he has learned to admire beauty of style and clearness of thought, to love knowledge for its own sake, to feel intensely and to express vividly his thoughts and feelings in good old Saxon terms. Such then is the manner in which, | think, what has been here designated the “epartment of elo- cution should be treated, so as to become to the reader what, in its true sense, it really is an exponent of the greatest thoughts of our doubtedly, give the student enlarged and enlightened views of mankind, and thus be a constant aid to him in the wider subject of his- tory, which is the second department in our study of English literature. History may be regarded as a painting, a science, or a philosophy; but the philosophical part is not for the common school student, History should be, to him, a simple story- book-——-a mere collection of tales. It should be written in an elegant, pleasing style, and valued nearly as highly for the manner as for the matter. For the young English student it might very properly consist of tales about the ancient Romans and Britons, pictures of Druidical temples and Roman civilization, stories about the fierce plunderings of the wild Northern tribes, with all that legend relates concerning the settlement of the bng- lish, graphic accounts of the lives of such noted characters as William the Conqueror, Simon de Montford, Joan of Are, Henry VIII, Cardinal Wolsey, Thos. Cromwell, John Hampden, James Il. and William III, might also be introduced in a very interesting man- ner, and I venture to say that the young stu- dent would learn more real history im six months from a work after this styl¢, than he could in two years from the dry, uninteresting text-books that are now placed before him, breathe upon these dry literary bones the|Old England would become as real to him as breath of life, and then they might become to his father’s farm, and that with scarcely any effort whatever on his part. But history should be not only a picture of the past, but This, [have no doubt, will seem to many a very strange remark, for I feel as- that there are hundreds of pupils \throughout the schools of this Province, who ee almost be consi lered learned so far as ithe affairs or ancient Norman ‘ngland are { concerned, and yet who could not, to save | their very lives, give three facts about Glad. ‘stone, Bismarck, Sir John Macdonald—men | who to-day are making the world’s history, But where are we to obtain this knowledge! Around us and above us isa class of persons | who make the furnishing of such information @ business, and they are quite willing to sup. ply us with any amount of their handiwork. it is needless for me to say that I refer to journalists, and so far do | refer tothem that I would wish to see the newspaper introduced into schools. But “4 hile i Cons le : the ' hool a fit place for the new spaper, 1 do not by any i means consider every newspaper a fit one for the school. Before the newspaper can possi- bly take its place as a text-book, it must, in common with other literary works, possess qualities that entitle it to rank as literature. Its articles should be truthful, impartial, graphic representations of whatever is worth knowing in tev world about us, ead a young « the voice of one speaking to us through the . greatest minds—the study of which will, un- - ee pS 5 es mpm. A a a