a few characters combined in a complicated manner into one. Another mode of attestation is by affixing the stamp of a seal, not in wax, but in red ink.' Sir John Davis, in his work on the Chinese, from which we have just quoted, further remarks: The Chinese attach much consideration to the graphic beauty of their written character, and make use of inscriptions for ornamental purposes, as may be often seen on the specimens of porcelain brought to this country. The advantage of simplicity (and a very great advantage it is) constitutes the merit of our alphabetic writing, but that of variety and picturesque effect may fairly be claimed by the Chinese. The importance of caligraphy as an accomplishment is naturally esteemed more highly among them than it is in Europe; and large ornamental inscriptions or labels are frequently exchanged as remembrances among friends, or used as pictures are among us, for purposes of taste and decoration.' The Chinese spend much time and labour over the acquisition of a neat and elegant handwriting, and when they have attained this object of their ambition, they frequently turn it to what appears to the foreign mind a most curious use-namely, the writing of the huge scrolls referred to above, and the inscription of moral sentences on fans, &c.

Answering in some measure to our Roman and Italic type, black-letter, &c. the Chinese have six different styles of writing their characters-namely, 1, the Chuan or Seal character; 2, the style of official attendants; 3, the pattern style; 4, running hand; 5, abbreviated running hand; and 6, the style of the Sung dynasty.

1. Foreigners commonly call this the Seal character from its being generally only used for seals or stamps, ornamental inscriptions, &c. Its Chinese name is said to be derived from the person who invented it. It is the oldest form of writing next to the original pictorial hieroglyphics, and is distinguished into two kinds, the greater and inferior. The former is used for seals and stamps, and is also to be seen on some kinds of goods, especially on porcelain; the characters all look extremely alike, and seem to be an inextricable labyrinth of rectangular lines. The latter kind is also sometimes used for seals, in prefaces of books, and ornamental inscriptions.

2. The style of official attendants was first employed about the commencement of the Christian era, and was invented for the use of the clerks and writers in public offices. Nowadays, it is most often used in prefaces and for inscriptions; it requires no special study to read it, as it is very clear and distinct, and differs but slightly from the following.

3. The pattern style has been gradually formed by the improvements of good writing. No Chinese can have any claim to literary merit unless he can write neatly and correctly in this style. It is the usual form of Chinese writing, and books are sometimes printed in it.

4. The running hand' is almost a literal translation of the Chinese expression for this kind of writing. The characters are written in an easy and free manner, without the writer's pen being necessarily raised from the paper; in this style, however, only those abbreviations which are to be found in the dictionaries are allowed. A neat business writer commonly uses this 'running hand,' and it is also very often employed for prefaces of

books and inscriptions, in scrolls and tablets, for shop-signs, &c. Schoolboys are taught to write both this and the pattern style at the same time, by means of copy-books with characters arranged in parallel columns.

5. The translation of tsao-tsze,' the Chinese term for what is above called the abbreviated running hand, is 'plant or grass character,' and foreigners generally call it by the latter name. It is an exceedingly free style of writing, and full of the most puzzling abbreviations, which often render it difficult even for natives to decipher; and Europeans rarely, if ever, attain to such a knowledge of this kind of handwriting as to be able to read anything written in it without the aid of an experienced Chinese. We have heard it facetiously likened to the effect which would be produced by dipping a spider's legs in ink, and letting him crawl over a sheet of paper! When writing in this style, a Chinaman often lets his pen run from character to character without taking it off the paper, and makes his own abbreviations, to avoid the labour of the numerous strokes required in some characters, if written in the pattern style.' To understand this kind of writing fully, necessitates special study, and its chief use is in first drafts of letters, despatches, &c. It is also employed, to a certain extent, by men of business, and is sometimes found in inscriptions and in prefaces of books, especially those of aged writers.

The sixth form of writing came into use about the tenth century, during the Sung dynasty, as a more elegant form of printing than the other classes above enumerated. It is believed that, since the time of its invention, no material alteration has taken place in the manner of forming the characters, which differs from the style of official attendants and the pattern style mainly in the greater stiffness of the strokes forming the characters, and in a certain squareness of appearance. This still continues to be the style most used for printing books, at anyrate those which have any pretensions to being well and carefully got up. Only persons, however, employed in writing for printing-offices are required to learn it, as it is not used for any other purpose.

Of these six forms of writing, the pattern style and the running hand are the only two which are studied by most Chinese, but well-educated men generally have a knowledge of some of the Seal characters.

As we have observed before, the Chinese take extraordinary pains to learn to write neatly, and to form the characters in a duly proportioned manner. Boys are taught by placing thin tracing-paper over their copies, and they practise an easy use of the pen, so necessary for elegant writing, by constantly writing characters on a painted board; by dint of great labour, many eventually learn to write a beautiful hand, which even Europeans, entirely unacquainted with the language, will admire, if only for the perfect symmetry and minuteness of detail with which the complicated strokes composing the characters are put together. The Chinese student is very particular about his pen and ink, and he is even fanciful on the subject of the ink-slab, on which the latter is carefully rubbed with a little water. The pens (or, as they are sometimes called, 'pencils') rather resemble our camel-hair brushes, and are made, the better kind from the hair of the sable and fox, and the commoner sorts

from that of the deer, wolf, cat, &c.; the stick or handle is of bamboo; and each pen has a little case or sheath of bamboo or metal to protect the hair from injury, for the tip of the pen is so fine that care has to be taken to keep it in good order for writing with. The ink is made from lampblack, &c. mixed with glue and similar substances, and is always scented with musk. The cakes are often adorned with curious devices and short sentences, stamped in gilt and coloured characters. The inkslab is made of different kinds of stone, carefully ground smooth, and has a small cavity or depression at one end to hold water; but some students have a species of small cup placed beside them with a little water in it. This cup is sometimes handsomely carved out of a piece of jade-stone, and fitted on to a wooden stand; it is furnished with a small ladle, not unlike a salt-spoon. Nearly all paper in China is made from the woody fibre of bamboo, and is mostly of a yellowish colour; it has no strength, and is very easily torn, and the effect of water upon it is much the same as upon our blottingpaper. The articles described above are called by the Chinese Wên-fang sze pao;' that is, the four precious implements of the library.

Some Chinese writers hold that movable characters, made of burnt clay, and placed in a frame, were invented towards the close of the Sung dynasty, about A.D. 1280. This method of printing, however, does not seem to have been found successful, for native printers now do their work, as it has been done for centuries past, on the stereotype principle. Movable metal characters have been in use for some years in the few foreign printingoffices at Hong-kong and Shanghai, but the innovation does not make way with the natives, and in point of fact it does not seem, in our opinion, very well suited to their language, which is so different in its nature from those of other nations. With an alphabetical language, movable type lightens the printer's labours immensely; but such is not the case with Chinese; for to print an ordinary book, probably at least upwards of two or three thousand distinct characters would be required, and in some instances this amount would have to be multiplied by ten; while to print a complete dictionary, we believe we are correct in stating that between forty and fifty thousand distinct and separate characters would be wanted.

The process of printing a book in China is somewhat as follows: Two pages are written by a person, trained to the business, on a sheet of thin paper, divided into columns by black lines, and in the space between the two pages are written the title of the work, and the number of the chapter and page; when the sheet has been printed, it is folded down through this space, so as to bring the title, &c. partly on each page. The sheet, when ready for printing, is pasted face downwards on a smooth block of wood, made usually from the or plum tree. As soon as it is dry, the paper is rubbed off with great care, leaving behind an inverted impression of the characters. Another workman now cuts away all the blank spaces by means of a sharp graver, and the block with the characters in high-relief passes to the printer, who performs his work by hand. The two points that

pear

he has to be most careful about are to ink the characters equally with his brush, and to avoid tearing the paper when taking the impression. Proclamations, visiting-cards, &c. are all printed in

the same manner. An economical way of printing small handbills and advertisements for walls is to cut the characters in wax instead of wood; but they soon get blurred, and the printing from them is often almost illegible. From a good wooden block some fifteen thousand sheets can be printed; and when the characters have been sharpened up a little, it is possible to obtain eight or ten thousand more impressions.

FLOWERS OF THE HEART.

THERE are some flowers that bloom, Tended by angels even from their birth, Filling the world with beauty not of earth, And heaven-born perfume.

Along Life's stony path,

To many a toiling pilgrim, cheer they bring,
And oftentimes in living glory spring
Beside the poor man's hearth.

Fairest of all the band

(E'en as the snowdrop lifts its fearless head, In storm and wind, unmoved, unblemished), Truth's precious blossoms stand.

The daisy's star is bright,

O'er vale and meadow sprinkled wide and free,
So to the shadowed earth doth Charity
Bring soft celestial light.

O cherish carefully

The tender bud of Patience; 'tis a flower Beloved of God! in sorrow's darkest hour 'Twill rise to comfort thee.

So, when all else hath gone

Of joy and hope, through winter's icy gloom,
The Alpine violet puts forth its bloom
Where sunbeam never shone.

Strong Self-denial's stem

Of thorns, clasp well, for, if not upon earth,
In paradise 'twill burst in roses forth,
Each present thorn a gem.

These are the flowers that bloom,
Tended by angels even from their birth,
Filling pure hearts with beauty not of earth,
And heaven-born perfume.

NOTE.-The story, A Young Hero, in Chambers's Journal of 15th February, owes its origin in part to a ballad of the same name in a small volume entitled Half an Hour with a good Author (published by Hotten, Piccadilly), which also contains other poems well worth perusal.

The Publishers of CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL beg to direct the attention of CONTRIBUTORS to the following notice: 1st. All communications should be addressed to the 'Editor, 47 Paternoster Row, London.'

2d. To insure the return of papers that may prove ineligible, postage-stamps should in every case accom3d. All MSS. should bear the author's full CHRISTIAN pany them. name, surname, and address, legibly written.

4th. MSS. should be written on one side of the leaf only.

Unless Contributors comply with the above rules, the

Editor cannot undertake to return rejected papers.

Printed and Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS. 47 Pater

noster Row, LONDON, and 339 High Street, EDINBURGH. Also sold by all Booksellers.

No. 483.

SPEAKER AND REPORTER.

A PUBLIC speaker is looked at from multitudinous points of view, according to predisposition or fancy. But the reporter looks at the speaker in a way, and with an interest, peculiarly his own. Not a fig cares he whether the speaker is impressive, or convincing, or enthusiastic, or sound and orthodox, or with a Grecian nose, an eye of Kean as Richard III. or the attitude of T. P. Cooke in Black-eyed Susan. His standard is unknown to the general public; his measuring-rod would be of no use to them. To explain this peculiar point of view, may I ask you, gentle reader, to peep into the portraitgallery of speakers I have known,' which I, as a reporter, have formed in my many years' experience? First, then, here is a London clergyman, whose sermons and speeches I often used to take when I first entered the profession; he is my 'cut-anddry' type. He always speaks as if he had learned everything off by heart, and his utterances read like reports of parliamentary commissions. He invariably runs on to sixthly and lastly, and no further. His speeches are like lawyers' briefs-a more or less respectable array of facts; a superstructure of argument; an appeal to the jury. Our friend is always in great request among social reformers, as, for instance, the teetotalers. He can tell exactly how many gallons of gin are being annually consumed in the United Kingdom; he can say off-hand what percentage of the national income is derived from the consumption of malt liquor, and can in an instant reduce the amount to a mixed denominator of coals, blankets, and tracts. In another aspect, he is the terror of railway boards, for at the half-yearly meetings he is more than a match for the accountant himself, and makes most awkward inquiries with regard to that issue of debenture stock,' and the compatibility of the highly flourishing state of your property, gentlemen,' with a dividend of one and a quarter per cent. Well, this gentleman and all others of his type were a great terror to me in my young days. He is not a fast speaker, but

PRICE 1d.

his words have a knack of falling on the ear with the irritating effect of the drops of water on the head of the proverbial Inquisition victim. He is so very calm and cool himself, and his utterance is so mechanical, that it ought to be the very easiest work in the world to report him; but the reverse is really the case. His precision, so far from inspiring confidence, makes the young reporter quite agitated; and the clear conviction that the omission of a single word will infallibly be detected, often makes it next to impossible to write anything at all. One's nerves are always on the strain with him, for he has the constant air of being just about to make a weighty statement, the point of the whole speech, which, if you lose, you lose everything. He learns off by heart, too, numerous extracts from books and newspapers, which he runs off fluently, giving but scanty references to their sources. For these reasons, Mr Cut-and-dry is one of the most difficult men to report. But such considerations as these I have mentioned are unknown except at the reporters' table, and should an unprofessional friend happen to see me poring uneasily over the notes of Mr Cut-and-dry, he instantly ejaculates: Why, you must be a poor hand, if you can't take him! He's the easiest man in the world to report, I should think!' The only answer I vouchsafe to such a remark is that which I once myself received, when I imprudently ventured to offer, in the green-room of a transpontine theatre, a humble opinion on some one's acting: a look of mingled pity, contempt, and annihilation, the look with which an allopathic doctor hears mention of a homeopathic doctor, or that of an hotel waiter when you tell him you don't take wine.

Then here is Mr Cut-and-dry's pendant, Mr Ramble. This speaker wanders off into unknown paths, like a Cockney tourist attempting to ascend a Scotch mountain; darts off at right angles, profusely perspires, and ends by discovering himself to be within a few feet of his starting-point. Mr Ramble's sentences are like a short-memoried gentleman's comic song, or a terminable building society, or a young lady's fancy-work, or the

schemes of the Metropolitan Board of Worksall beginnings and no end. Mr Ramble never creates what he is pleased to call 'sentences' under a dozen clauses; and a verbatim report of his speech, were the reporter ever rash enough to write one, would weary the reader's eyes with its innumerable colons, dashes, and parentheses, and would put the largest printing establishment, and the most composed compositor, out of sorts' in no time. A friend of mine, who used to report the lectures of a certain renowned professor of physiology, told me he counted in one of the professor's sentences seventeen parenthetical clauses, one within the other; but my friend could never have taken Mr Ramble's, or he would never have thought of mentioning such a trifle. Mr Ramble remarks that the Society whose claims he advocates is a noble one; that nobility is a quality much to be cultivated; and, speaking of cultivation, that reminds him of an anecdote told him by a farmer when he was a boy-and boyhood, they must know, was the time for making impressions and educating the mind-but with the present theories of education he could not entirely agree. Education naturally leads Mr Ramble to religion, and religion, as naturally, to politics and the lastcontested election. The subject then speedily develops into local government, and his grievances as overseer of his parish; and then, warned by a frown from the chair that his allotted time has elapsed, he has to make an ignominious rush back to the shelter of the noble Society, covering his retreat with a glass of water. If I am taking Mr Ramble for a newspaper, my course is somewhat easy spread out the anecdotes, and condense the rest as much as possible; but if it is a private verbatim report which is required, and which will no doubt be offered for Mr Ramble's kind revision, the difficulty is terrible. How often have I wished, with aching head, that Mr Ramble would take to heart the lines of a Chicago poet :

Whatever you have to say, my friend,
Whether witty, or grave, or gay,
Condense as much as ever you can,
And say in the readiest way;

And whether you speak on rural affairs,
Or particular things in town,
Just take a word of friendly advice--
Boil it down!

Here is another old friend: Sir Serene Plagiary, I call him. He is a great favourite with the public. He generally appears late in a meeting. In disregard of his subject, he out-rambles Ramble. He certainly has, nominally, a subject on which to speak, but he troubles the subject little, and apparently it troubles him not at all. Classic and poetic allusion is Sir S.'s forte, a fort from which he can never be driven by any siege-guns of sarcasm which the press or criticising friends may bring up. His subject is a mere colourless thread, his scraps of quotation the beads of varied hue which glitter and dazzle in the light-a light, whoseever it be, certainly not Sir S.'s. What he last quoted always reminds him of a line from some other authorthose beautiful lines of Moses' poet, or that lively passage in Cowper, or that maxim of Tupper's; and out they all come, à propos de bottes. He plays with Greek and Roman names as a juggler with balls or knives. An axiom from Bacon is followed by a couplet from Tennyson, while a

the

Shakspearean soliloquy, and an allusion to one of Aristophanes' characters, looms in the offing. Rocket succeeds Catherine-wheel, squib follows squib, with endless repetition; and for the final blaze, a special fancy device, varied as ingredients of the witches' caldron in Macbeth, is reserved, and luckily few notice the smoke. After all this illumination, the Diogenes' lantern of the poor next speaker, if any one has the rashness to constitute himself such, burns ghastly dim by comparison. Now what is the poor reporter to do with a speech like this? Often, as if on purpose to catch you, Sir S. will quote the blank verse utterances of bards entirely unknown to fame, which are so like prose, that you unwittingly incorporate them in the text, without, however, any but the very few initiated being any the wiser. But Sir S. is as lynx-eyed as other speakers, when reports of his speeches are in question, and is down upon you like a thunderbolt, for any such unfortunate slip. But I have hardly shewn my greatest bugbear yet. When I do so, you will start with surprise at my want of taste.' He is no other than Joseph Miller, Esq. Junior, whose conversational style puts his audience so thoroughly at their ease, and whose smart jokes hold their attention from beginning to end of his speech. Now, it is a curious fact, that though there is nothing so pleasant to listen to, there is nothing in the world so difficult to report as a good joke. If the reporter has in him any appreciation at all of 'a good thing'-and he generally has, by force of contrast with the numerous bad things it is his lot to publish to a long-suffering public-the temptation to be carried along with it, to enjoy the witticism, and forget to write, is almost overpowering; to lay down his pen, and to listen and laugh with the rest of his fellow-creatures, comes so very natural. So far from note-taking being merely mechanical, as those suppose who know little about it, it, on the contrary, requires, even from its most practised professors, the constant and minute attention of the mind. Now, a witty story, as I say, almost irresistibly calls off the attention of the mind from the writing of short-hand, to continue which is an heroic effort of self-denial very difficult to make.

We have now to say something of a very different class of speakers, for whose existence the Prophet of Chelsea (be it writ with reverence) is perhaps more to blame than any other. Though I acknowledge that Mr Carlyle is my favourite author, yet I cannot forget that I owe to him many a sad heartache, many a desperate struggle, many a blotted and illegible 'note.' The language in which Mr Carlyle writes, having little affinity to any dialect or speech previously known, has, as is proper, received a special name— -Carlylese. This language is used by no one but Mr Carlyle himself, granted; but he has many followers (at a very respectful distance) in the mystic paths of Thought, and their language may best be described as Carlyle-and-water. The strong points of these gentlemen are the Odd, the Startling, the Abrupt, the Unexpected, the scarce Understandable. They love a turn of phrase which shall be like no other turn of phrase, past, present, or future; they seek expressions so profound that no one shall be able to attach any conceivable meaning to them, except themselves. Now, the very basis and key to the possibility of verbatim reporting at all is the