"Gleanings From The Blue."

than " good . " In the early days of the Christian Church , when we might expect absolute serenity and virtue , we read of querulous widows and hypocritical philanthropists . Whence , then , arises this idea of departed excellence ? It is just possible that it is a bit of grumble . Discontented with the present , men throw a halo over the past : human nature loves a grievance , and having found one , hugs it . Of a piece with this , as it seems to some , is the hackneyed regret for childhood : what humanity generally does for its own past , that each individual does for his : that is to say , extols it at tae expense of the present . The past being hopelessly gone , what can be a simpler

and safer grumble than to profess regret for it ? The broken toys and scalding tears of childhood are carefully forgofcteu , while the present uneasiness is exaggerated . If we would but be honest with ourselves , we should find that the past was not so nice and the present not so nasty as we profess it to be . It has been hinted that poets are mainly responsible for these fictions : to quote passages depicting the delights of a sensual and otiose past would be an endless task . Instances will occur to all . One poet , however , stands out as a noble exception . Homer makes a hero profess his belief that his generation is better than the one preceding , and in another passage

represents childhood as not being altogether blissful , by introducing a simile of a child running by the side of its weary mother and ceaselessly wailing until it is picked up and carried . Homer spoke from experience , not from a frenzied imagination . Aristophanes professes to regret the " good old times " of Marathon , but hard measure need not be meted out to him , for there is a natural affinity between comedy and conservatism —an affinity , by the way , lost sight of by Punch in recent days , somewhat to the detriment of that publication . Eemembering this affinity , the writer was astonished to hear an advanced Radical talk of the good old times in language often used by a rigid Conservative .

The wonder ceased with the thought that extremes meet . In answer to inquiry , both agreed in placing the Golden Age fifty years ago . This coincidence seemed to imply reality , until it was remembered that this was the period of their youth , and also that the time was too recent to admit as yet of impartial or authentic history . If we turn to history , not merely strings of dates and lists of battles , but such as is recorded by novelists , we shall find it hard to fix the date of the " good times . " Thackeray is supposed to give a fair picture of the period whereof he treats , and certainly in the Georgian era , which he describes , there is nothing so very lovely that we need desire or regret it . And turning to another great writer—Charles Dickens—his recently-published letters show plainly how his righteous soul was vexed by the sentimental regrets for an imaginary past .

Thus neither in the earliest records of humanity , nor in those of Christianity , nor , again , in those times just distant enough to be called " old , " do we find a monopoly of what is " good . " If it were a mere matter of sentiment , it would not , be worth while to attack this " poetic licence ; " but as a fact , this view of the past implies and fosters a discontent with , and ingratitude for the present , and this leads humanity as a body , and each man as an individual , to be contented with a low standard of morality . If the natural tendency of human nature in general , and of each human nature in particular , is downwards ( as the phrase "good old times" implies ) rather than upwards , neither a nation nor a man will make a real effort to rise . The words act like a prophecy that fulfils itself .

We commend much the " freshness of the " lines " 0 uhi Campi , " theii sense ancl bri ghtness of youth . They are trul y redolent of green fields , hawthorn lanes , and summer flowers . 0 UBI CAMPI . I am tired , I am tired , I ' ve been stewing for weeks Over musty collections of Romans and Greeks ,

Over mummies and dummies in sawdust and bran ; I can't understand them and don't know who can . I am tired , I am tired of Cicero ' s jokes ; Oh , surely the Romans were very dull folks : Bucolics and Tusculans put them together , Compared with Miss Braddon they don't weig h , a feather . Just think of those antediluvian times

, Of Virgil or Horace reciting their rhymes : AVith a voice full of passion , and gesture to mate it , In toga and slippers—I can't contemplate it . Then take them and fling them all out to the winds j Let JEolus collar whatever he finds . He is welcome , for I , for a lo g time to come , Shall not be in need of their aumiliuni .