only slight sulphureous odours behind them! Is it not palpable that there is stupidity here? It is only in rare cases that a difference as to a seat in a railway train, a tear of an inch of silk, or even a quarrel as to a doctrinal phrase respecting Christian love, would reasonably warrant the blotting out of being of fellow-creatures. What all these things ought really to do is to make the parties keen, lively, witty, and forbearing. It is pitiful to see how the opportunities of rendering life less same and dull by skilful and right-minded quarrelling

are missed.

For agreeing has not half the sources of interest that disagreeing has. A dispute is always more or less dramatic, spectacular; this scarcely ever holds true of being friendly. The rudest, most common persons can command attention while they differ; it is only when they make it up that they straightway become nobodies again. But for this strange attractiveness of quarrelling, there are many persons who would never draw a glance from outsiders throughout their whole lives. It is not until after being disappointed a thousand times by disagreements turning out to be as dull and unimportant as the absence of them, that the fascination slackens. But in the case of a serious difference between high-spirited, sound-hearted, clear-headed individuals, especially if they have been good friends before, the interest rises to its full height. Not to be able to appreciate the shifting charms of such a quarrel is proof of great intellectual obtuseness, as well as of much moral stolidity. Life has nothing to shew so variously attractive; in no other way can all the possibilities of human character be so brilliantly brought out. Literature, art, history, all find their best materials in quarrels of this kind. Look closely, and you will see it is with such incidents they most successfully deal. Very fortunately for mankind, there has in time past been some good quarrelling, of some of which the race may be proud.

But the greatest, most stupid mistake of all connected with quarrelling is made, not by the principals, but by good-natured silly outsiders. They hurry to huddle up a disagreement, as if the chief thing was to cut it short. It is scarcely possible to have a quarrel fully out now, owing to this instant interference. This is a serious error. A good quarrel will not be huddled up it always breaks out again, generally in a worse way. The only result is, that, instead of a properly adjusted difference, you have half-a-dozen fragmentary outrages, linked by a sour rankling of painfully suppressed discontent. It would be a very startling explosion in society, if all these imperfectly treated differences were at once let loose; but, as soon as it was over, the social atmosphere would be cleared immensely. A leisurely, in fact, a cold severity needs to be exercised by the outsiders. They ought rather to insist that a quarrel once begun should not end too hastily. It should be made to partake more of a judicial process; a full, absolute exhaustion of the matter being enforced. A quarrel is necessarily a public affair-the rights of the public in it ought to be far better recognised than they are. Now, everybody appears to think himself entitled to quarrel whenever and however he chooses. This needs altering entirely. Let it be clearly understood that nobody is justified in quarrelling unless he can be vivacious, witty, self-controlled in it. The present absence of all criticism of this kind does not prevent people from quarrelling; it only leaves them free to quarrel badly-to take no pains over it. But especially ought sudden, wholesale, what may be called lump, forgiveness to be discredited. Half the evils of quarrelling can be traced to the shameful abuse of this too easy resource for stupidity and indolence. To recommend forgiveness as a simple sovereign cure for all quarrels is absurd. The question always remains, which of them is to be forgiven? Very religious persons, it is true, forgive one another. cases, when very effectively done, it is the finest stroke in all the quarrel. Where it is used as part of the tactics of a dispute, it cannot fairly be objected to; the only requirement being that, to make this quite clear, the forgiveness shall be very malicious. At anyrate, it is a mistake on the part of the clergy so to cry up haste in forgiveness as an added virtue. It is not the height of religion never to quarrel, but always to do so in a becoming spirit. A man who can bear to be forgiven, without its making the disagreement worse, will not get into a quarrel without its being greatly the fault of the other person; and he will generally find his way out of it, rationally, without any need for the exercise of so celestial a virtue by the one most to blame. It is clear that to give the latter the privilege of ostentatiously pardoning the one least in the wrong, is to let him do himself a great moral injury.

If we all always agreed, it is impossible to say how slovenly we might not become in our mutual intercourse. Most friends, and nearly all married people, degenerate in that respect from the first establishment of thorough familiarity; sinking day by day into greater looseness of phrase and bearing. It is only an occasional tiff, with the permanent chance of others in the intervals, that prevents things from being yet worse. Watch two intelligent, accomplished men of the world, who are facing one another as enemies. Then you know how fine proper restraint of demeanour may become. Few lovers are half as mindful of what is due to one another. You then perceive that in the case of all noble natures it is hostility that gives to intercourse the last finishing touch of politeness. By some ladies, at such times, the grace of lofty carriage is so magnificently shewn, that to disinterested spectators it almost seems a pity they should ever become friends again. But to wish that is wrong. A quarrel ought to end at the right juncture with a happy dénouement a reconciliation; if it did not, how could the same parties ever quarrel again? However, in the present low state of the art these latter considerations do not apply in one instance out of a hundred. In the other ninety-nine, there is not the slightest pretension to elegance in the display of indignation; a quarrel instantly makes those engaging in it absurd.

In some

There is one wide rule which can be laid down in addition to the obligations on both sides to be witty, painstaking, and interesting, requirements which of themselves would go a long way to debar many people from quarrelling at all. It is for the better recognition of a certain grotesquerie which circumstances exhibit in and of themselves. There is a greatly overlooked native tendency in things in this world to make pleasant fools of all persons who have to do with them. Individuals go on

stolidly, just as if they had only persons to deal with, wholly ignoring the part played in nearly every transaction by those droll, wicked, sprightly, clever goblins of events. These often outwit men and women with a skill beyond the best unravelling. In very many quarrels the misunderstanding is one for which neither of the human parties really is accountable; it has been caused by this inevitable third actuality, which is always anonymously present moving between the two, with finger on its lip, or slily laid beside its nose. Nothing but the most watchful observation, the promptest action, and a liberal ignoring of some inexplicabilities, will prevent any business which approaches complexity from being entangled in this most innocent, yet most malicious way. Must it not often be foolish to look for a full explanation of an imbroglio from two parties, when a third one wholly overlooked has been the principal performer in it? In every case of a difference, the first thing done should be to try and find out how much of it is shiftable from the human shoulders-there should be a readiness to forego complete explanations so soon as it is seen that circumstances have had much freedom of play in the affair. Beyond this general rule, one further suggestion has to be offered. It should be absolutely laid down that a quarrel has not answered its rational purpose unless it leaves the parties better friends than before.

That is the great justifiable use of disagreeing. What rational purpose can people have in quarrelling except that they may agree better afterwards? Indeed, how can you fully agree with a man until you have differed from him? No friendship, no affection, is perfect without a quarrel having taken place between the parties. By this we mean some thing very different from the summer-tiffs between lovers, which, for the greater part, are only hypocrisies. These young folks pretend to disagree for the mere purpose of displaying in the eyes of other people their power over one another. To quarrel is the final seal of familiarity, with these trivial, preposterous, delightful individuals. So, again, a great proportion of the disturbances made by very juvenile personages may be set down as utterly insincere. A loud quarrel is the only means the light insignificant creatures have of making themselves of any social importance. They want notice, so they brawl for it. For similar reasons, we unhesitatingly strike out of the category of useful quarrelling all the habitual perfunctory excitements of a class of mean-minded persons who quarrel in turn with everybody, systematically, of prearranged design. In their case, it means simply a periodical self-inflation; it is their way, like the children, of commanding the publicity they can secure in no other fashion. Some of these ridiculous individuals have positively developed a bastard art of quarrelling, which they practise as other simpletons do dram-drinking. What they really aim at in quarrelling is a pompous reconciliation, for the effecting of which they have a cumbrous apparatus of mutual friends, letters of explanation, and absurd forms of semi-retractation. The right method of treating them is never to indulge them with the gratification of a disagreement; the point of skill being to do that without agreeing with them either. Doing neither the one nor the other places them in a state of bewilderment, their wits not being equal to the understanding an able,

utterly indifferent neutrality. The improving, perfecting quarrels we have spoken of are grave, unplanned, surprising difficulties arising between sensible people, against the wish of both parties, and which, at one stage, fatally jeopardise all prospects. If these persons, be they either friends, lovers, or husband and wife, come safely out of one of these entanglements, either having fully cleared it up, or entirely satisfied one another that it must always remain more or less unexplained, but that although both are to blame in some degree, each still is true, there is nothing so enriches subsequent life. In very noble instances, a gentle mysterious falling-short of full explanation may have advantages of its own over a blank and bald clearing-up. Room is given for trust and magnanimity, for admiration and thankfulness.

The last, perfect stage is reached when, after a sufficient experience of this kind, the quarrellers not only know that things will have to end in a reconciliation, but they are aware beforehand that neither will be found much to blame when all right allowances have been made. The art of quarrelling then becomes Christian. A scientific persuasion of the mind, as well as a loving impulse of the heart, causes perfection not to be looked for, but in its place a dearer, sweeter human coming short. By generous mutual allowances, a mean of character is well appreciated; an average rightness of intention, a partial success in its fulfilment, satisfies, is regarded as a victory. There are some couples in this happy state. A silver-haired old lady, with better blush-roses in her cheeks than those of youth, was once condoled with after a vigorous colloquy with her ancient husband in his study. What!" she said, with an amazed twinkle of the dear blue eyes-orbs that in the progress of years had grown so bright she had to subdue them with spectacles-'do you think I have been talking so angrily with John? Nonsense! It is his Monday's headache I have been arguing with; and it is astonishing how well it can argue. But a little opposition does it good.'

Our inquiry seems to resolve itself into these conclusions: First, it should be always borne in mind that in the case of the simplest quarrel there are three parties to it, circumstances forming one, which generally is opposed to the other two; secondly, reconciliation should be thorough, loving, and rendered as elegant as may be. These conditions observed, the world may quarrel as it likes.

UNDER THE SEAT.

'SMOKING-CARRIAGE, sir?' asked the tip-expecting porter, as he bore my rugs and minor packages along the platform. I said yes, and he made me comfortable, and received his sixpence. Then the guard came to look after my well-being, but got nothing more than innocent gratitude, which was perhaps all he desired. I have no doubt that I did him injustice in attributing his efforts to induce a fat old gentleman with a cough; a lean old gentleman who was snuffy; and a middle-aged gentleman enveloped in wraps, the lower part of whose face was covered up like a female Turk's, an evident window-shutter, to enter my carriage, in order to spite me.

Duty to his employers alone made him endeavour

my dear sir; let it be a consolation to you, if I should cause you any little annoyance.'

The doors were banged, the engine whistled, the train began to move. It would not stop again till we got to Peterborough, so that I was safe to be undisturbed so far. There were six seats, and I could occupy as many of them as a limited number of members permitted. I almost wished myself an Octopus, to take full advantage of the situation. Calming down, I hung up my hat, put on a gaudy piece of needle-work won in a bazaar raffle, lit my pipe, cut my papers, and began to enjoy myself.

I sat in the left-hand corner, with my back to the engine, absorbed in a big lawsuit. It is great fun to read a cross-examination, and watch how a clever lawyer will make an honest man perjure himself. It reads almost like a crime,' I remarked aloud; but then it is an honourable, lawful, and beneficial crime. Soldiers kill people's bodies, lawyers kill people's reputations, all for the good of society in the long-run.'

While I was uttering the word 'Run,' my ankles were grasped suddenly and firmly; then, before I could recover from the shock, they were jerked backwards under the seat with such force that I was thrown forwards, sprawling. I tried to rise, but my right wrist was seized, and the arm twisted till I was helpless, and presently I found myself on the floor of the carriage, face downwards, a sharp knee being scientifically pressed into the small of my back, and both arms fixed behind me. My elbows were tied together, and then the knee was removed, and my ankles were secured. During this latter operation, I kicked and struggled.

Hum!' said a deliberative voice, that will be awkward. Let's see; ah, these will do.'

'These' were my sticks and umbrella, which some one proceeded to apply as splints to the backs of my legs, using the straps which had kept them in a bundle to fix them at the ankle and above the knee. When he had done, I was as helpless as a trussed turkey.

Then I was turned over carefully and tenderly, and for the first time saw my assailant.

He was a gentlemanly looking man, dressed in a black coat and waistcoat, gray trousers, and neckcloth. His hair and whiskers were just turning grizzly, his chin and upper lip were clean shaved. His forehead was high, his eyes prominent and fixed in their expression, his nose aquiline, his mouth a slit. He was of middle height, spare but wiry; indeed his muscles must have been exceptionally elastic and feline, for you would never have thought, to look at him, that he could stow himself away under the seat of a railway carriage so compactly.

He contemplated me, with his chin in his right hand, and his right elbow on his left hand, and said thoughtfully: Just so. All for the good of society in the long-run-an admirable sentiment,

He took a shagreen spectacle-case from his Then he produced an oblong box, which he unhandkerchief, and adjusted them on his nose. locked, and placed on one of the seats. After which he sat down quietly in the place I had occupied five minutes before, a position which brought him close over my head and chest, as I lay supine and helpless at his feet.

Do you know anything of anatomy?' he asked. I was as completely in his power as a witness in the cross-examining counsel's, and prudence dictated that I should be equally ready to answer the most frivolous and impertinent questions with politeness. I said that I did not.

6

'Ah!' he said; well, perhaps you may have heard of the spleen? Exactly. Now, science has never as yet been able to find out the use of that organ, and the man who bequeathed that knowledge to posterity, would rank with the discoverer of the circulation of the blood, and confer an inestimable benefit on humanity for the remainder of the world's lease. I propose to dissect you.'

'You will not get much glory by that,' said I, forcing myself to seem to take this outrageous practical joke in good part. An ungrateful generation may or may not profit by your discoveries, but it will infallibly hang you.'

'Not so,' he blandly replied. 'I am a surgeon, who once had a very considerable practice, but I had to stand my trial for an experiment, which proved fatal, on one of my patients. The jury, unable to understand the sacrifices which an earnest inquirer is ever ready to offer at the shrine of science, declared me mad, and I was placed in confinement. You see that I can act with impunity.'

And he opened the box. I broke out in a cold sweat. Was it all real? Could the man be in earnest ? 'But,' said I, 'surely you can get dead bodies to dissect, without having recourse to a crime? And again, if generations of anatomists have failed, in twenty thousand investigations, to discover the use of the spleen-if you yourself have always failed hitherto, why should you suppose that this one attempt should be more successful than the others?'

'Because, my dear sir,' said the man, with the smile of one who has caught a bright idea, 'all former investigations, including my own, have been made on dead subjects, while I propose to examine your vital organs with a powerful magnifyingglass, while they are exercising their normal func

tions.'

'What!' I gasped. 'You will never have the barbarity'- And here my voice choked.

'O yes; I have conquered that prejudice against inflicting suffering which is natural to the mind enfeebled by civilisation. For many years, I secretly practised vivisection upon animals: I once had a cat, an animal very tenacious of life, under my scalpel for a week. But we have no time to waste in conversation. You will not be put to any needless suffering; these instruments are not my own, blunted for want of use; I took the precaution of borrowing the case of the gentleman under whose care I have been placed, before making my escape.'

While speaking thus, he took out the hideous little glittering instruments, and examined them

is no cost for materials, only trouble and consideration. The substance of the doors, as far as I could see, consisted of earth agglutinated by a secretion from the animal, and hardened to endure daily tear and wear. And the rounding is so beautifully executed, that it could not have been done better by the most skilled workman of the Turners' Company,' which is saying a good deal. As regards the hinge, it is evidently a kind of silky material, which the spiders spin for the purpose of lining their nests, and therefore somewhat analogous to the well-known spiders' webs.

The exceeding drollery of the thing inclined me to give some account of these trap-door spiders; but on learning that Mr Moggridge was engaged in preparing a work on the subject, I relinquished the intention, and left him, as much better qualified, to bring the matter explicitly and with scientific accuracy under public notice. His book is just published. It goes beyond what was anticipated, for with needful particulars about the trap-door spiders of the Riviera, it includes an equally interesting description of some remarkable ants which are found in that quarter.* With what quiet satisfaction one can turn from social and political dissensions to a contemplation of Divine wisdom displayed in the habits of creatures ordinarily treated with indifference, but whose constructive ability and forethought ought to excite the highest admiration.

Our author does not write as a cabinet naturalist, but as an observer of what has come distinctly under his notice in situ; and his work, therefore, forms an important contribution to our general knowledge of the Arachnides and Formica. After briefly referring to what was long ago discovered respecting the trap-door spiders of Jamaica, Corsica, and Italy, he proceeds to speak of two new types of these animals, which he has found at Mentone and Cannes. The dwellings of all consist of cylindrical tubes lined with a silky substance to keep them dry and comfortable; the tubes being artificial perforations in sloping banks of a soft friable material. A principal peculiarity in the Riviera spider-houses is that they are often more complex and highly finished than those found elsewhere. Instead of being no more than a single tube sloping downwards from the surface, they are frequently provided with a branch, or side-tube, sloping upwards about half-way down. Such a side-tube is a cul-de-sac, and forms as it were a spare room which is required by the exigences of the occupant. To understand the special purpose of these side-tubes, we have to bear in mind that the inmate is exposed to sundry natural enemies, such as ichneumons, wasps, centipedes, and small lizards. As a defence against these depredators, the dwelling has a strong outer door, so carefully concealed by growing plants, or otherwise, as not easily to be discovered. The aforesaid enemies, however, after minute investigation, do occasionally find out the door, and try to open it. For an attack of this dangerous nature, the spider is prepared. He lays himself down inside the door, and with back, legs, and mandibles, endeavours to prevent intrusion. If the intruder gets the door opened, the spider retreats, and taking refuge in

*Harvesting Ants and Trap-door Spiders. By J. Traherne Moggridge, F.L.S. L. Reeve & Co. London. 1 vol. 8vo. with plates. 1873.

the side-tube, leaves the enemy to plunge to the bottom. Being there disappointed in not finding his prey, he perhaps returns to find out the spider's place of retreat. In this inquiry he is effectually baffled, for the side-branch is provided with a door, which the spider has shut behind him, and keeps it closed against all attempts to open it. To shew that this is no exaggeration of what probably happens, we quote the following passages.

'When digging out these nests, after carefully removing the upper portion, I have frequently seen the lower door move across, and block up the main tube in a mysterious manner, it being in reality pushed by the spider from below, and she may sometimes be captured at her post, with her back set against the door.... Let us suppose, however, that one of her natural enemies has found its way into the nest, and is crawling down the tube. What will probably happen? Why, in the first place, the spider will slam the second door in the face of the intruder, and then, if worsted in the pushing-match which follows, quickly draw this door back again, and run up into the safety-branch, when the enemy, after descending precipitately to the bottom of the main tube, will look in vain for the spider as it searches its way up for the secret passage, now closed by its trap-door.' This seems a feasible explanation of the use of these sidebranches. Mr Moggridge does not think it probable that they are designed as places of safety for eggs, because they are found in the nests of very young spiders.

With respect to the jealous care taken to guard the street-door from intrusion, our author says: One might suppose, from what has often been repeated as to the habits of the Nemesia cœmentaria, that whenever any one attempts to open the door, the spider, which is always at home in the daytime, would dart up from the bottom of the tube, and endeavour to keep it closed by holding on from within. I cannot say what may take place during the summer months; but from October to May, have but rarely found one of these spiders ready to oppose me, though Nemesia meridionales and N. Eleonora frequently did so. Many times, wishing to provoke them, I have tapped at the door, in order to apprise the occupant of my arrival, or lifted it and let it fall again, and always in vain, though the spider was there, crouching at the bottom of the tube. Indeed, I can only recall six or eight instances in which this spider did hold down the door, and in three of these she was captured.' It would thus appear that certain species are more valiant than others; or that possibly the opposition offered to intruders may be due to the fact of there being at the time some young to be defended.

In constructing its outer door, the spider usually disguises it with a covering to harmonise with the adjoining surface. Perhaps in no case is the concealment more complete than when dead leaves are employed to cover the door. In some cases a single withered olive leaf only is spun in, and suffices to cover the trap; in others, several are woven together with bits of wood and roots.' The tools with which the animal excavates its dwelling to a depth of from eight to ten inches, and provides it with doors, consist of powerful mandibles bent downwards with a claw at the end, and generally with bristles on its lower side. As there are enemies abroad during the day, the spider may be presumed to prefer carrying on his outdoor labours