THE CLAVIS ACROSTICA. A KEY TO "DUBLIN ACROSTICS." PART IX. HE answer to No. 15 is "Lost Time" with the lights levant, ogni, storm, and Terence. There is an allusion to blacklegs in Mr. Reeves' lines, and to lasciate ogni speranza and to Charles Kingsley's best lyric. The answer to No. 16 is "Hard Cash" with the lights havoc, Alabama, recess, and dervish. As usual J. W. A's ingenuity has not been at fault, except that he is a little weak in negro melodies and not familiar with the lines, "I come from Alabama, With my banjo on my knee." The initials affixed to the next two "Dublin Acrostics" show that the authors were the late Thomas Harris, Q.C., and Judge O'Hagan. No. 18. Of common birth, of elements the same, 1. If measured, you will always trace 3. Than wildest Nænia wilder still, 4. The brain-sick youth hath startled all 5. Your bookish theoric "'s a fool, "Tis I afford the safest rule. 0. SYMPATHY OF THOUGHT. HAT a solid pleasure it is to meet some one, who not only likes but understands us! It is not enough to be liked, though it is much and very much. then, as our disagreeable ones do with those who dislike us, or whom we dislike, But to be liked and understood makes life for the time being eminently worth living. To like, to be liked, to understand, to be understood: ea demum firma amicitia est. Men, who may be otherwise prosy bores, are delightful companions, when these conditions are verified. This is especially so in the case of literary and thoughtful people. Men who can say the things they would, who can express patiently, passionlessly, fearlessly views, persuasions, convictions on every subject of thought, who can listen without thinking of what they are going to say themselves, who can put themselves into others' states and circumstances, who are thinkers, not prejudiced passionate partizans (often much better men, but nothing like so charming to deal and converse with), men, who know what they know and what they do not know: such men, when they meet under favourable conditions, verily revel in "the feast of reason and flow of soul." Such meetings are rare enough, I think. They mostly happen by chance. Prearranged they are generally disappointing. Spontaneity is lacking. It has been said, "no one can be amusing to order;" the same seems true of interesting and thoughtful talk. Of course all who have the same likings, who VOL. XXV. No. 293. 44 are interested in the same kinds of things, will always have plenty to say about them; hence talking is so pleasurable, even though it be mainly commonplace. It recalls past pleasurable states, it causes pleasurable anticipations, it relieves and consoles in numberless ways. Talk that is not trifling or commonplace, talk that is the product of real thought and not mere repetition of what is said or written by others, is one of the rare and delicate pleasures of intellectual life. Addison says: "fine writing consists in sentiments that are true, but not obvious." High-class talk is just the same, the expression of a mind capable of appreciating justly and for itself the subject under discussion. It was said above, such talk is mostly brought about accidentally. It often happens that people meet, who could talk so from having knowledge and power of expression, yet little or nothing comes to the surface. Nothing occurs to suggest or stimulate into conscious activity what lies dormant. They may essay to start some topic, but it is not at the time sympathetic. They are for the present mutually uninteresting. They separate sadder, not wiser; puzzled at their own dullness, envying the commoner sort who so easily find enjoyment in one anothers' very ordinary conversation and pursuits. To be able to think and talk like a thinker is no small matter. It may not be the best way to enjoy life. The Wise Man concedes that. Experience confirms it. Enjoyment of life we all long for. It is not common, certainly not on a large scale or for long. But to keep occupied is one of the best ways to make the best of life, and the very best, when we keep occupied in the right way. It is not always easy to keep occupied. Many complain they cannot find occupation. It is often very hard to suggest to people how they are to occupy themselves. It is one of the greatest benefits of a cultivated mind, that reading and thinking and writing and speaking are so many ways of useful, and more or less pleasurable, occupation. Idleness and listlessness are awful miseries-how great only the idle and listless know. Cultivated minds are by no means a guarantee against idleness and aversion to occupation. Persistent afforts are necessary for all against the insidious syren sloth. But a cultivated mind is always able with moderate effort to become energetic and find work ready to hand. Thinking is harder work than reading or writing. Still one may think too much. Too much thinking saps intellectual energies of other kinds, and indeed energy in general. Hamlet is said to be an instance of how too much meditation destroys energy. He speculates about everything, which makes him the most interesting of dramatic characters; but he always procrastinates. A mere thinker is a higher kind of idler, and often not much happier. A mere reader is much on the same moral level. A reader and thinker should teach orally or in writing, if he would bring forth worthy fruits. One may regret having made a solitary of himself by giving way too much to such instincts. He may see with sorrow that he would have been a wiser and more contented man, if he had entered more into participation with social activities; but he can do good work still. Not every one will care for or appreciate such work. No doubt thought gives an exquisite flavour to speaking and writing, but the flavour is often enough "caviare to the general." In many minds it produces irritation and disgust. Not every kind of thoughtfulness, but some kinds most pleasurable to some. There are able and educated men who cannot perceive, or at any rate appreciate, every flavour imparted by real thoughtfulness. They have talent, and they understand and value talent. They duly appreciate clear and brilliant and persuasive statements of facts and truths and known arguments; but the suggestiveness of thoughful groping after answers to the mind's obstinate questionings, the dim and subtle adumbrations of infinite realities, the grasping and fusing of mysterious incongruities and seeming inconsistencies in the spheres of mental struggles and longingsall these are an unitelligible bore to them. us over Thoughtfulness is not all or even mostly concerned with vague and mysterious realities. It is employed about, and adds its peculiar charm to, the ordinary affairs of life and objects of thought. Thoughtful remarks on these things are full of interest and frequently help us along and get difficulties by providing us with some spur to exertion or some cheering way of looking at things. "Nothing is either good or bad, but thinking makes it so ;" and so, if we get a view of things that makes them less trying or more cherry, we are greatly helped thereby. In fact most of our miseries come from the way we consider things, from the exaggerated opinion we entertain of their worth or worthlessness. We long for things we have not, we envy those who possess them, we despise what we have, while others envy us their possession. Seeing all this by the aid of a shrewd or wise remark often cures us of our distorted vision and ill-balanced judgment. To be helped over small worries and difficulties is no small benefit, for our most clinging miseries are produced not by great trials but by comparatively petty troubles. But the utility of thought is not its whole good. By no means. Its great good is itself. The power of thinking for oneself is the highest outcome of the cultivation of the intellect and hence a great thing in itself. There are no advantages without disadvantages. Thinking tends to make one a lonely being. "Never less alone than when alone" is all very well, but very few are sufficient for themselves. We are by nature social. Congenial society is one of the greatest and most indispensable pleasures of life. Like all pleasures, it may be, and very often is, over indulged. It is of great importance to be able to do with a moderate amount of it. Being able to be alone and to like it, to converse with oneself, thinking, reading, writing, help much against yielding too much to the pleasures of social intercourse, when such can be had, and go far to supply for it, when not to be had. What a full and delicate pleasure it is to get hold of a book that gives us fresh and interesting thoughts and sentiments, and stimulates us to form more of the same kind for ourselves. Then we realize the truth of Mill's saying about Ward, "thought sympathizes with thought." One who has himself worked at and struggled with the puzzles and problems of human life, immediately recognizes with delight a writer or speaker, whose words reveal the genuine thinker, the fair-minded inquirer, the discoverer of truths small and great, or aspects of truth. Any one who sees and expresses old or well known truths in a new light, is a discoverer. He enjoys himself and affords to others the surprise and joy of discovery, the interest and wonder of novelty in the sphere of intellect and imagination. All kinds of pleasure pall. Men tire of everything. Those who possess all the means of enjoying themselves, often find it impossible to do so. The tædium vitæ asserts itself everywhere. People wonder at this. But this world is not made to be happy in. No wonder, then, if thinkers tire of thinking and find it often "weary, stale, flat and unprofitable" like the other" uses |